Harry Potter and the Story by Dad
by Dad9
Summary: A post HBP book seven substitute started well before DH. It is a HHr book. Ron and Ginny stay likable. I try to stay with the canon as much as possible and will eventually explain all actions and abilities. Please read the intro for more details.
1. Chapter 1

Introduction

This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only. I have no claim to the works or characters created for the Harry Potter universe written by J.K. Rowling.

This story takes place just after Dumbledore's funeral. I try to keep it as much based on the original works as possible but the inconsistencies of the books sometimes make that problematic. This story was also well along the way before Deathly Hallows was released so anything in the seventh official book will have nothing to do with this story. Also, I haven't written anything longer than a letter in about thirty years so don't hang me out to dry for a few chapters. Once I finish the story, I plan to do a work-over of the whole thing to fix errors and tidy up a bit.

The Harry in my story has accepted his roll in the war against Voldemort and is actively trying to fight it. With the help of Hermione and Ron, he sets up the infrastructure and makes allies in pursuit of this. He also develops his magical abilities to a greater degree. With just a few exceptions, he does not become significantly more powerful than in the first six books but learns to harness it better. I do try to explain my reasons behind the actions and abilities of the Harry and the other characters during the story itself. Some of it is extrapolation of the original books and some of it is conjecture or logic. If you don't like my reasoning, I will still sleep at night. I might make an occasional comment at the end of a chapter but don't count on it. Some explanations might take a few or even several chapters to be fully realized so be patient.

This story spends a great deal of time on relationships and motivations. I like to get into why people act the way they do/did. This includes Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You'll see a lot of things from his point of view.

My story does correct one major plot failure in the original books. Actually, it's more of a correction to what was a minor subplot in the real books. Having Ginny get together with Harry and Ron end up with Hermione allowed an easy, feel-good epilog, but it really had little to do with the story. The various romances were never intended to have much to do with anything as far as the main story was concerned and almost all were based on jealousy, which isn't much to build on. From my perspective, Ginny is nice enough but Hermione is the girl for Harry. At the very least, she is NOT the girl for Ron and vice versa. The logical choice, as was almost achieved in the last book, was for Harry and Hermione to realize that they can always count on each other. Even when Ron left them, for a time, something I don't think he would have actually done, by the way, Hermione welcomed him back with open arms. Meanwhile, Ginny is virtually nonexistent until the very end, yet she still ends up with Harry. It just isn't that believable. If you can't accept that fact, don't read any further. I have seen fit to leave the beaten path of other H/Hr shippers by having both Ron and Ginny remain perfectly good characters who are able to actively contribute to the struggle against Voldemort so there is some good news there for the Ron and Ginny fans.

*** The story involves a rape scene and references to it in later chapters. It is not graphically depicted.

There will also be a student/teacher relationship. It isn't as shocking as a Minerva/Harry fling would be but something I think is more believable. ***

I began this story near the end of 2006 so the first 52 or so chapters were written before the last book came out. At the rate things are progressing, I will probably have about a hundred and thirty chapters at about 800,000 words.

Enjoy the trip.

Dad9

P.s. I started with the name Harry Potter and the Story by Dad for lack of anything better. I will keep it that way.

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Harry Potter and the Story by Dad

Chapter 1 - The Train Ride Home

June 9, 1997 - Around Noon

Harry Potter sat in his compartment on the Hogwarts Express deep in thought. So much had happened in the last few days that he was glad to have this time to reflect and plan for the future. This was a new experience for him, since up until recently his future was largely scheduled by the calendar. Normally, he would take the train back to number four, Privet Drive where he would spend a fair amount of the summer with his relatives, the Dursleys, to ensure that the magical blood protection created by his mother's sacrifice to save him would protect the house and all who lived there for a while longer. After a while, he would be allowed to go to the Burrow to finish the summer with one of his best friends, Ron Weasley. Molly Weasley would then do her best to see that he gained some weight while keeping him, Ron and Ron's sister Ginny, out of trouble. At the end of the summer, he would then accompany the rest of the school-age Weasleys back to Kings Cross to catch the Hogwarts Express. This pattern had never bothered Harry because the best part of the summer had always been when he had left his real relatives, who treated him like some kind of a leprous servant, and went to stay at Ron's house where he was treated like a son and brother.

This year, however, was different. Yes, Harry would have to go to the Dursleys again. But this time, he would only stay the night. After that, he would be on his own and would move into his house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Or could he? Now that he thought about it, could he even get into the house now that the secret keeper, Professor Dumbledore, had died? And what about the everyday business of living? What were the expenses involved in owning and living in a house? Did he have to pay taxes or bills or wages or fees? And if so, to whom? Now that the day Harry was looking forward to for so long, the day he would be "of age" as they put it, was drawing near, did he have any idea about how to be a responsible adult? Clearly, before he could start working on his quest, he would have to get his affairs in order.

About this time, Ron and Hermione, having finished their prefect duties, came into Harry's compartment and sat down. Normally, Ginny would join them but since Harry had just recently broken up with her, she was probably not too well disposed to spend several hours in a confined space with him. Fortunately, since many parents had taken their children directly home from school, there was plenty of room on the train and three to a compartment was not out of the ordinary.

"I've never seen the train this quiet for the trip home," said Hermione as she sat down across from Harry. "Normally, the end of year ride is one of the most raucous times of the year."

"Makes sense, though," stated Ron, as he took the spot next to Hermione. "Not even Fred and George would get too much mischief going on the day of a funeral."

"I know," said Harry. "I sure don't feel like celebrating. In fact, the more I think about actually getting home and on my own, the more depressed I become."

Hermione looked thoughtfully out the window. After a few minutes she broke her gaze and turned to the other two. "Well, we have to start planning," she said. "I think that a good place to start is listing our resources. We need to know that we won't be financing our little adventure by begging on street corners."

"We won't," Harry said, matter-of-factly. "I have quite a bit of gold in my parents' vault at Gringotts and Sirius left me some more, although I don't know how much." Suddenly realizing the depth of his ignorance about normal life, he continued, "I don't have any idea of actual numbers, though, and I don't know what expenses are in the magical world so maybe we should check into it."

"Actually, Harry," continued Hermione, "for all intents and purposes, you and I are both Muggle-born when it comes to that sort of knowledge. I can tell you the price of quills and parchment but not much else. This looks like your moment in the sun, Ron."

Ron shifted uneasily in his seat. "Well, actually," he began, blushing slightly, "we never really discussed finances around the dinner table much."

This presented a problem. With no real idea of the cost of living and no accurate idea on the amount of funds they had available, there was very little planning that they could do.

"We need to bring someone in that we trust that knows about these things," declared Harry at last. "They would need to be able to keep our business secret while still helping us with the information we need." They sat silently for about twenty seconds before all three looked up at once and said, "Lupin."

Remus Lupin, former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, best friend of Harry's father and godfather, werewolf and member of the Order of the Phoenix was, of course, the perfect choice. Having spent the last two years infiltrating the werewolf underground, Remus would have first hand knowledge of daily expenses while on the run. He also was out of a job now that Harry captured Fenrir Greyback and his participation in the defense of the castle was known. If anyone could be trusted and willing to help, it was Lupin.

"Great," said Ron. "When should we arrange to meet?"

"Well," replied Hermione. "The sooner the better, I guess. Maybe we could meet him at Grimmauld Place sometime soon," she suggested.

"Why wait?" said Harry. They both looked at him quizzically and he continued. "This is not exactly classified information we want and we have several hours to kill so maybe we could meet now, if he isn't busy."

"How are we supposed to contact him?", asked Hermione.

Harry responded by simply saying "Dobby!" in a clear and commanding voice. Within seconds, the house-elf appeared before them.

"Harry Potter called Dobby?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "I was wondering if you would like to do us a little favor."

"Of course! Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants," replied Dobby, a little too subserviently to suit Hermione's taste. "What does Harry Potter want Dobby to do?"

Harry thought for a moment. "You know, Dobby, there will probably be quite a few things that we could use your help with. Perhaps now would be a good time to ask if you would be willing to work for me on a permanent basis." This surprised all three people not named Harry Potter.

"Harry Potter, sir," Dobby sobbed. "Dobby would be proud to work for Harry Potter. He will do whatever Harry Potter wants."

"Harry," began Hermione, "one of the things we wanted to discuss with Professor Lupin was expenses. Do you think it is a good time to hire staff before we have a good idea on our resources?"

Normally, she would have a point. In this case, however, Harry's experience and instincts told him there would be no problem, except for Hermione.

Ignoring Hermione, Harry continued. "Dobby, I will hire you and will agree to whatever you and Hermione agree on for terms and wages." He continued, "Please find Professor Lupin and ask him if he could meet with us on the train. If he agrees, bring him here. Otherwise, find out where and when we could talk to him."

Dobby nodded and vanished.

"Harry!" snapped Hermione. "Didn't you hear me? I don't see how we can hire Dobby without first seeing how much money we have available."

Harry tried to hold back his laughter. Slightly chuckling, he said, "Really, Hermione. Do you think you can pay Dobby more than a galleon a week? You'll be lucky if he doesn't make you take his money."

Before she could respond, Dobby came back. "Master Harry Potter, sir. Mr. Lupin is saying he is being ready in about 15 minutes," said the elf. "Dobby is fetching him to Master then."

"Thank you, Dobby," replied Harry. "Please do not call me "Master," OK? I am your employer, not your owner. Please just call me Harry."

Dobby obediently nodded his head and said "It will be as Mas.... Mr. Harry Potter says."

Harry then had a thought. "Dobby? If you agree to work for me, or I should say us, then I want you to understand that we don't want anyone knowing anything about what we are doing that doesn't need to. Do you understand?"

"Dobby thinks he does, Harry Potter but Dobby will be needing to talk to the wizards that brings the food and candles and everything for Harry Potter's house," said Dobby.

"That will be fine, Dobby," said Harry. "You will have to tell them what we need for food and candles and such but if anyone who doesn't need to know asks about what we are doing, then we don't want you to tell. OK?"

Dobby responded, "Dobby will keep Harry Potter's secrets to the best of Dobby's ability, but there will be no elf magic to help Dobby if bad wizards force Dobby to tell."

"Hmm," hummed Ron. "That is a problem but not a likely one. I doubt that any Death Eater would consider the ramifications of a free house-elf. Nevertheless, we may have to keep some secrets from Dobby, just in case."

"I agree," agreed Harry. "Or we could just treat him like one of us. After all, any of us could be forced to talk, too. I doubt we could find anyone who would be more helpful than Dobby here."

"Dobby is doing whatever Harry Potter asks and is not going to give up his secrets if he can helps it," exclaimed Dobby with an almost pleading look in his eyes. "The Great Harry Potter freed Dobby and Dobby is never forgetting. Dobby will be strong and not tell anyone Harry Potter's secrets if Dobby can help it!"

"That's good enough for me, Dobby," said Harry, patting the elf on his shoulder. "I couldn't expect any more than that." The elf bowed with tears in his eyes. "Now, it must be about time to get Lupin. You had better go wait for him."

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby and was gone with a crack.

"We should probably check with Lupin on house-elf rules as well as everything else. Maybe he has some suggestions," offered Hermione.

"Yes," replied Harry. "We also have to find out how to let Dobby know where we are living. I mean Professor Dumbledore can't tell him where the house is and neither can anyone else."

"We don't know that," said Ron. "I mean, what happens to a secret when the secret keeper dies?"

Before Hermione could start her lecture series on the minutia of secret keepers, Dobby came back with Remus Lupin. He greeted the three friends and sat down opposite Hermione, next to Harry.

"Is there anything that Harry Potter or his friends needs Dobby to be doing?" asked Dobby. He looked about eagerly.

"No, thank you, Dobby," replied Harry. "We will call you if we need anything." With that, the elf disappeared with another booming crack.

"Well, Harry," Remus began, "I didn't expect to see you again so soon. After all, we spoke just this morning. What can I do for you?" Lupin sat back with a mildly expectant look on his face.

"Well," Harry began, "I'm not sure where to begin. We need some general knowledge about being on your own in the wizarding world." He paused and then turned to Ron and Hermione. "I think that we should let Professor Lupin in on everything. We will probably need his advice on a wide range of problems and it would just be a lot easier on everyone if he was up to speed on what we are trying to accomplish." He waited for Ron and Hermione's responses.

Ron immediately replied, "Sure, Harry. I wouldn't turn down any help we can get."

Hermione's response was a little more thoughtful. Turning to Lupin, she said "Professor, before we volunteer you for this we must let you know some of the conditions we are bound by."

Remus nodded and added "That would be a good idea. By the way, the name's 'Remus'."

Hermione continued. "Alright, Remus. The project we are working on is one that Harry and Professor Dumbledore worked on all last year. It was while pursuing one of the goals that Dumbledore became weakened to the point where Malfoy, Snape and those Death Eaters were able to overpower him. Now that Dumbledore is gone," she paused as Harry and Lupin both looked down with sad expressions on their faces. "Now that Dumbledore is gone, only Harry, Ron and I know about the mission or even that it is being pursued." She waited for this to sink in.

Harry continued. "So if you agree to help us, you must not tell anyone that we are doing anything at all. Not even McGonagall was in on this. It would just be the four of us, or five of us, I guess, if you count Dobby. No one else must get a glimmer of what we are doing." Looking directly at Lupin he asked, "Are you willing to help us on these terms?"

Lupin considered the stern, young faces in the compartment. Much too stern for their years, yet Dumbledore had apparently placed a vital, and extremely secret, task before them. If Dumbledore had decided that pursuing this goal was worth risking, and ultimately losing, his life, who was he to object. He finally answered, "I will help you to the best of my abilities," he said while looking each of them in the eye.

Harry didn't know why, but he felt much better knowing that the last marauder was on board. He began, "I will not go into much of the purpose of our mission while we are on the train. Just know that we will be attempting something that will probably take quite a bit of time and we will be doing it with as little involvement as possible with the rest of the wizarding world. Before we can do anything, we need to set up a base where we can gather any information and supplies we need as well as recover our strength when we have time. It will initially be up to you to help us with this since we have no idea about the necessary steps that have to be taken to maintain a household." Harry paused while Lupin digested the information so far presented. "Grimmauld Place would seem to be as good a choice as any but we are not sure about the status of the Fidelius Charm now that Dumbledore is gone. We also need to see about my resources. I know I have some gold in Gringotts but we need to find out how much is there exactly. There is also the business of maintaining the house itself and supplying our needs. We don't know how much any of this will cost and we will rely on you for that sort of stuff."

Lupin replied, "My house is not up to the level of Grimmauld Place but I do have some idea on what expenses you will encounter. It would seem that Dobby is now your elf and, as your property, will be allowed access to your vault for any funds he might need for food and household items."

"Dobby is not my property!" Harry exclaimed. "I just hired him." Harry had no intentions of letting that topic go since it was clear that Hermione would not even allow the impression of him being a slave owner pass uncontested.

"That might present a problem," mused Lupin. "I don't recall that coming up before." He paused. "We will have to ask the goblins about that when we check on your account."

"Fair enough," said Harry. He decided to move on to another related subject. "What do you know about the Fidelius Charm?" he asked. "Has it lapsed now that Dumbledore has died?"

"No," Lupin said confidently. "The death of the secret keeper does not end the charm. It is a good thing, too. Otherwise, all you would have to do is kill all the likely secret keepers and the secret would be exposed."

Harry looked concerned. "Then how are we to allow anyone new into the house?" he asked. "Will it be forever limited to the Order of the Phoenix and the few of us who know about it?"

"There are ways to take care of that," Lupin said. "You can cast the charm again with a new secret keeper and they would take over. This has the effect of causing the death of the former secret keeper but that isn't a problem." He paused while thinking about the options. "That would not limit any of the previous secret sharers but would allow more to be added. That might not be the best option since Snape would still know where to find you."

Harry didn't think that having Dumbledore's killer know where he lived would be a good idea either and said so.

Lupin agreed and continued. "I would suggest changing the address of the house. That is a simple matter that can also be handled at Gringotts since they are in charge of land titles. With a new address, the old secret would be obsolete."

Harry thought this over and came to the obvious decision.

"Professor Lupin," he began, "why don't you and I go to Gringotts and take care of some of this now. The train won't get to Kings Cross for about five more hours and everything seems to centre on that."

"What about us?" asked Ron. He had remained mostly silent during the discussion and felt more than a little left out.

Harry looked at him and then at Hermione and then back to Ron. "This is not a very interesting trip. Mostly bookkeeping type stuff. Also," he said with a smirk, "I would think that after wasting nearly eight months, you two would like a little 'alone time.'"

Both Ron and Hermione cast their eyes at each other and quickly looked away, blushing furiously. "That might be nice," muttered Hermione, very sheepishly.

"Yeah," agreed Ron.

Harry stood up, followed by Lupin. "Should we Apparate or have Dobby take us, Professor?" asked Harry.

"It's Remus, Harry and I think it is too far to Apparate so it will be a job for Dobby, I guess," replied Remus.

"I didn't know that distance mattered," said Harry. "Dumbledore and I Apparated to the ... uh, place we went which was near the south of England and we didn't have any trouble."

"Well, that's Dumbledore," replied Lupin. "He had enough power to Apparate anywhere he wanted. Most witches and wizards can only make it about 100 miles or so. That is why they use Portkeys, brooms or even the Hogwarts Express if they don't have places to stop along the way."

Harry was confused. Dumbledore had Apparated them down but he had Apparated them back. Not wishing to waste any more time on this at the moment but logging it away for future discussion, he let it go for now. He then said "Dobby" in a clear voice. Immediately, Dobby appeared before him.

"What is it that Master Harry Potter wishes?" asked the elf in an exuberant manner that reminded Harry of a dog begging for a treat.

"It's just Harry, please, and I want you to take Professor, er, I mean, Remus and me to Gringotts. Can you do that?" he asked.

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir," replied Dobby. With that he took them both by the hand and with a nod of his head they found themselves outside of Gringotts.

Author's note for any potential reviewers: If you want to ask a question or get a reply, you MUST be registered with this web site or I can't reply.

Other than that, enjoy the story.

Dad


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - At Gringotts

June 9, 1997 - Early Afternoon

Harry looked around. Normally, Diagon Alley bustled with activity as the main centre of commerce for the British wizarding world. Today, however, he found that the three of them made up exactly one-half of the total on the street within sight. There was an elderly pair of witches in dusty robes across the street examining the offerings of the third resident of the street; an old wizard selling what appeared to be used belt buckles. Harry was fairly certain they weren't belt buckles but that was sure what they looked like. Turning away, he was asked by Dobby if he needed further assistance at the moment.

"Yes, Dobby," replied Harry. Part of what we are doing in here today concerns you so please join us."

"Yes, Mas...er Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby. They were about to walk up the steps when a thought occurred to Lupin.

"Harry," he began. "Perhaps it would be better if Dobby appeared to be your slave in public." At Harry's questioning glance he elaborated. "You see, in most of our world, a free house-elf would be suspect and unusual. We don't want to draw attention to his circumstances, especially considering your expressed concerns for secrecy."

Harry could see his point and agreed. "Dobby," he said, turning to the elf. "We will do as Professor Lupin has suggested. In public, I will treat you as my property and you need to treat me as your master. We will have to tell the goblins the truth but in normal public places we will have to maintain the illusion that you are my slave. Is that okay with you?"

Dobby looked a little hesitant. "Dobby will do as Harry Potter asks but Dobby is concerned, sir."

"What are you concerned about?" asked Harry. Surely the elf wouldn't be upset about just pretending to be an ordinary house-elf.

"Dobby is being concerned with how Miss Granger will be taking this, sir," said Dobby. "She is not very happy with house-elves being owned by anyone and she will be getting mad at Harry Potter."

Harry laughed. "I will explain it to her, Dobby. Don't worry."

With that he walked up the steps to Gringotts with Dobby and Lupin behind. When they entered the goblin bank, Harry looked around for someone that could take care of their slightly more than normal needs. Not seeing a sign stating "Personal Bankers Here," he decided to approach a free teller.

"Excuse me," he began, looking up at the goblin facing him. The goblin appeared to be upset with being disturbed but Harry had not noticed him doing anything.

"Yes?" came the slightly hissy voice of the goblin. He turned his eyes towards Harry. "How can I help you?"

"Well," began Harry, a little flustered now that it came to it. "I have a few questions and need some assistance with a variety of things." That sounded a little vague, even to Harry. "Is there someone who would be available to help us?"

The goblin looked at the odd trio. "What makes you think I can't help you?" he asked.

Taken aback, Harry stammered out "Nothing, I guess." He turned to Dobby and Lupin. Lupin seemed to be trying to hold back a laugh. Dobby was looking directly at the goblin, making sure that he made no hostile moves towards Harry. "Okay, then. I guess the first thing I need is to know exactly what my account balance is."

The goblin looked down with, if possible, an even more disapproving expression. "And you thought that I couldn't handle that difficult task, did you?" he asked. Harry remained silent, not wishing to put even more feet in his already full mouth. "Your name?" asked the goblin.

"Harry Potter, sir," replied Harry.

The goblin looked up with new interest in the boy before him. "Harry Potter? Of course, just one moment please." With that he stepped away from the counter.

Harry turned to Lupin. "Excuse me, professor, but exactly what was so bloody funny?" he asked.

Lupin finally had to chuckle a little. "Well, Harry. I believe you asked me along in the first place to help with these matters but when the time came, you tried to handle everything yourself. You remind me of James a lot when you do that but, seriously, I have had a vault here for quite some time and am familiar with how we should have gone about this. I believe that you might be better served, at least for now, by allowing me to assist you with your dealings with the goblins."

After a few moments, the original goblin teller returned with another, slightly shorter goblin.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," said the new arrival. "My name is Harbork. David has informed me that you have some questions concerning your holdings with us. How may I help you?"

Harry looked at Lupin who motioned him to proceed, despite his earlier suggestion. "Well, sir," he began. "We need to know several things. First, I wish to know what sort of cash I have on hand. I have two vaults, I think. The first is my old one that my parents left me and the second is the one I inherited from Sirius Black." He waited a moment to see if Harbork would find that information out first or wait for all of the requests before proceeding.

"Very good, sir," replied the goblin banker. "Do you also wish to know the cash amount in your main vault as well?"

Harry was a little taken aback by this. "Main vault?" he asked hesitantly.

"Certainly, sir," replied Harbork. "The vault in your name is merely a trust vault used to provide for you until you reached your majority. While we can not allow access to your main vault until that time, it is perfectly reasonable to allow you information concerning its contents to allow you to make appropriate plans."

"Sure," replied Harry. "I would like information concerning all of my holdings here, if it would not be too much trouble." He hoped that this wouldn't take longer than they had available before the Hogwarts Express reached Kings Cross.

"No trouble at all," replied Harbork. "David can start compiling that information for you while we attend to the other matters that I assume you wish to deal with." With a word to David, he went to prepare the report.

Harry turned to Lupin. "I would like you to handle the title change and elf questions, if you don't mind."

Lupin nodded and turned to the goblin. "Firstly, we need to change the address on the house that Harry inherited from Sirius Black. It is under a Fidelius Charm and the secret keeper has died." Harbork made a note on a scrap of parchment. "Secondly, the current house-elf is less than satisfactory. We will keep him on but wish to allow only this elf," he pointed to Dobby, "access to the household funds. His name is Dobby, but he is a free elf and we may need to make special arrangements for him."

Harbork nodded and seemed to think for a moment. "It is not a problem to change the address. I can do that for you in a moment. The house-elf, on the other hand, is most unusual. Are you sure you wish to trust your funds to an unbound elf? Most wizards are not quite that trusting of their servants."

Harry responded, "I have complete faith in Dobby. I am sure he will serve me faithfully and honestly without the need of being my property." At this, Dobby broke into tears and could only be heard mumbling something about "greatest" and "honour."

"Very well, sir," replied Harbork. "Might I suggest that you allow Dobby access to your current trust vault and replace the funds from time to time?" He continued, "I believe that will allow him reasonable access to your gold without placing the entire fortune at risk."

Lupin broke in. "That would be a good idea," he said. Turning to Harry he said, "You don't have access to the main vault yet anyway and he will need something to work with until your birthday."

Harry thought a minute and, although he had just stated that he trusted Dobby, he also thought that perhaps the separation between most of his gold and the elf would be a good idea. Dobby did have a certain lack of control at times and he didn't want to be wiped out over a misunderstanding. Finally he agreed.

"What would be a good amount to place in that vault for a year's funding of a large manor?" he asked to the group in general.

Harbork said that the normal amount a large manor used varied but that 30,000 galleons would normally be more than enough. Harry had only to return it to that amount on a yearly basis and everything would probably be okay.

They proceeded to what Harry assumed to be the Deeds Registry. There they found several goblins working at their desks. Harbork spoke to one and presently came over with a folder.

"This is the deed and corresponding papers on your house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place," he began. "Have you a preference for your new address?"

Harry looked at Remus. Remus said, "No. Any available number will do."

Harbork nodded and said that number fourteen would be the next unused number. All of the muggles lived in odd numbered houses and the first six even numbers had already been used at some point by his house. Apparently, this was not the first time a secret keeper had died protecting it. Harbork made a note on the deed and gave it back to the other goblin.

"Number twelve Grimmauld Place no longer exists," he stated. "If you wish to place your house under the Fidelius Charm again, I would recommend you do it as soon as possible. It is currently visible and can be seen by anyone who wishes to," Harbork concluded.

"We can now return to see if David has finished your account check and we will be able to allow your elf access to the vault at that time."

They returned to David, who had indeed finished his work and had prepared an envelope for Harry.

David said, "I have included the amount of gold in each vault as you have directed. I should point out that in both of the larger vaults there are some items such as jewellery and books that I do not have detailed information available to me as to the specifics. If you wish, we can prepare an itemized list within a few days."

"Please do so," replied Harry. "I would like to know what assets I have available." He took a breath and continued. "I wish to allow Dobby access to my trust vault. Will he need his own key or should I give him mine?"

"A house-elf that you have listed as authorized will not need a key," replied David. "I have a form here that will need to be signed by you. I have been informed that your elf is free so that I feel that he should also sign." He passed the note over to Harry along with a quill and ink. Harry read the note and signed where indicated. He then passed it to Dobby. Dobby, still overwhelmed with the trust that Harry was showing him, sobbed while signing his name.

Harry turned to David. "I may need to either transfer money from one vault to another or perform a withdrawal from time to time. If I am not able to come in person, can I send Dobby?"

"He will be able to do your bidding as long as he brings a signed note, Mr. Potter. He will need a key to either of your other vaults for access, though."

"Thank you, David. Thank you, Harbork. You have both been very helpful," he said. They bowed. With that, the three of them left the bank.

"Do you have any more need of me today, Harry?" asked Lupin.

"No, Remus. I do have more questions but we should wait until we get to Grimmauld Place. Oh, wait!" he said. "We need to get a new Fidelius Charm. Can you do that?"

"I can do the charm but you would have to be there as well as your secret keeper," he said. "Do you have an idea on who you would want?"

Harry thought. He would need someone he could trust. Someone who wouldn't be too likely a choice. Someone who would be available to tell others the secret.It would be a potentially dangerous job. "Why, exactly, can't I be my own secret keeper? I don't really want to put someone else at risk."

Remus considered it. "It is not usual for a person to be their own secret keeper but I don't really know if it is impossible." He thought some more. Finally, he said "I want to check on this a little. Do you mind if I contact Professor Flitwick and ask him?"

"Of course not," replied Harry. "I'm sure he can be trusted. Just make sure he doesn't mention it to anyone else."

Remus agreed. "When do you plan on moving into your house, Harry?" he asked. "I know you have to spend some time at your Aunt's house."

"Tomorrow morning," replied Harry. "Dumbledore said that I had to return but it didn't sound like I had to stay there for very long. I will stay the night and then leave forever."

Remus considered him. "I don't know what the rules are for that sort of protection but I would think that longer would be better," Remus noted.

"Maybe it would but I've wasted enough of my life there. I won't stay a moment longer than I have to," Harry said with a bitterness in his voice that Remus had not heard before.

Remus let it drop. "I suppose that I had better see if Flitwick is still at the castle, then," he said. "Can Dobby take me there?" he asked.

"Sure," said Harry. "I'll go back to the train and look over these parchments with Ron and Hermione.

"That is still pretty far away, Harry," said Remus, with a worried look. "Perhaps Dobby should take you," he suggested.

"I think I'll be fine," replied Harry. "If I have trouble, I'll call Dobby to sort me out but I've Apparated farther than that before."

Remus looked doubtful but said no more. With a word to Dobby, they were gone. Harry concentrated on the compartment he had left earlier and with a soft pop, he disappeared from Diagon Alley.

POP! He was back in the car with Ron and Hermione. With a shout, they moved away from each other. Harry had not seen what they were doing but it must have been something that could have been embarrassing.

"Bloody hell, Harry," exclaimed Ron. Hermione had turned slightly pink but said nothing.

"Sorry about that, mate," replied Harry. He sat back in his seat.

Hermione noticed the envelope and asked Harry if it had the information that they wanted. He briefly filled them in on all that had happened at the bank.

Hermione looked concerned. "And then you just Apparated back here?" she asked. "Harry, that has to be over two hundred miles away."

"I told you that I have already side-along Apparated farther than that with Dumbledore," replied Harry. "I don't see what the problem is, to tell you the truth."

"Dumbledore could do that in his sleep, Harry," she continued.

"I meant that on the way back I was the one side-alonging him," he stated, hoping they got it this time.

"Really?" said Ron, finally getting into the conversation. "That's quite the trick, Harry."

"Anyway," said Harry, anxious to turn the conversation back to useful topics, "let's check the envelope."

Harry opened the envelope which held a parchment titled "Summary of the Gringotts Holdings of Harry James Potter". Reading the list to Ron and Hermione he said, "It says I have 31,078 galleons and change in my trust vault, 167,294 galleons in my parents vault and 2,387,192 galleons in the vault from Sirius. It also states that there are several valuable items that will be itemized upon request." Looking at Ron and Hermione he added, "I asked them to make a list of the items already." Harry stopped to see if Ron or Hermione had a comment but they didn't say anything so he continued. "I also had them change the address of Grimmauld Place to number fourteen. This means we have to re-cast the Fidelius Charm if we want it to be a secret."

Harry paused again. Looking closely at Ron and Hermione he said, "Hello?" while waving his hand at them. They seemed to come out of a stupor. "Are you two okay?" he asked.

Ron said, "Bloody hell, Harry!" Harry was hoping for something more helpful and turned to Hermione.

"I agree with Ron," she said.

Thinking he missed something, Harry looked back at the parchment. Adding up the numbers he thought he saw the problem. "I know it looks like I have nearly two-and-a-half million galleons and I'm sure that normally would be a lot but we will have to do a lot of travelling, purchase who-knows-what sort of equipment, pay our medical bills, maintain Grimmauld Place and probably a hundred other expenses that we can't even guess. Also, this may take years for all we know so let's just hope it holds out until we are done," he concluded.

Hermione was the first to come to her senses. "I agree that, large as it may seem, we may run out of money in the end but it won't be anytime soon, Harry," she said, shaking her head. "I believe the current exchange rate is about five pounds per galleon so that would put you in the fourteen to fifteen million pound range."

Ron still seemed a little shell-shocked. "Ron?" asked Harry. Ron turned his head but said nothing. "Are you going to be alright, mate?" has asked with a smile on his face.

Ron nodded. A thought occurred to Harry and he decided that it might as well be addressed now so that Ron could have all of his shocks at once. "I think that there might be times when we aren't together that an opportunity for equipment, books or information might present itself. Therefore, I will set up an account in each of your names." Hermione turned quickly, Ron turned slowly but both waited for the other shoe to drop. "I think 50,000 in each would be enough to start with, don't you?" he asked.

"Harry," said Hermione, turning dark pink in the face. "I am not going to let you just give me 50,000 galleons." She seemed quite put out by it. Ron, still unable to master his verbal skills, simply nodded.

"I am not giving it to you for the fun of it, Hermione," Harry countered. "I just feel that you two should be able to make decisions that cost money without having to run to me all the time." He looked directly at Hermione and added, "Believe me, I really don't need to hear the reasons behind every one of the forty-seven books you think would be useful every time you walk into a book store."

Ron laughed. "Sorry, Harry," he began. "It was just a shock, you know." Harry understood. Ron's family was fairly poor although now that more of the children are on their own and doing well, Molly and Arthur were able to save a little more of their money than usual.

Harry decided to cheer Ron up, although the exact same news would probably fill Hermione with dread. "One thing, though," began Harry. "If we are going to be doing a lot of travelling, we all will need proper brooms." Harry turned to Ron. "Do you think that we could teach Hermione to handle a Firebolt properly?" he asked, a grin forming on his face.

Ron and Harry both turned to face a suddenly pale Hermione. "Sure," said Ron. "Just make sure you wear your ear plugs the first time she kicks it into top speed," he said, grinning evilly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Getting Started

June 10, 1997 - Early Evening

Harry sat in the large stuffed chair by the fireplace thinking about all the problems involved in the horcrux search. He had arrived at his new home that morning after spending the night at his aunt's and uncle's house. His parting words were "Goodbye. Hope that was enough to satisfy the requirements to protect this house for a while longer. Good luck." With that he was out the door. Remus had performed the Fidelius charm with Harry taking the unusual step of making himself his own secret keeper.

"Well, at least it is unexpected," declared Lupin about the unheard of practice. They had decided that Lupin would close up his house and move into number fourteen, Grimmauld Place as soon as possible. As one of the few who would know their business, he needed the protection of the charm as much as anyone. Also, as a leader of the Order of the Phoenix, he needed to be available at headquarters. Oddly, they had to place two Fidelius charms on the house. The second had Remus as the secret keeper of the location of the Order of the Phoenix. This provided some additional protection for both sides. If the Order was betrayed, those benefiting would not be able to disclose the fact that Harry also lived at headquarters and vice versa.

Ron and Hermione sat nearby on a large couch, although they probably should have chosen the love seat. The evening had started with Ron bringing up the need for more information about the dark side's resources. They didn't know where they were, what they were doing or even how many there were. He, Ron and Hermione had come to the conclusion that they would need to start capturing Death Eaters and interrogating them about everything they know if they were going to have a chance of finding the last few horcruxes. With any luck, they would also find out other useful information along the way that would be helpful.

One problem was that Voldemort probably would not have told any of them about his horcruxes. They would have to piece together where they were from a bit of news here and an unexplained trip there. It might take a while. They needed to keep any Death Eaters they found alive and well while keeping Voldemort from finding them. That was the other problem. Karkaroff had been found and killed while hiding in a "cabin up north". If a skilled Death Eater like Karkaroff could be found when he was actively trying to stay hidden, how could Harry prevent his prisoners from being rescued by Voldemort? He thought of different magical defences but what would hold up against a determined attack? He looked over to the lovebirds and came to the conclusion that their attention span had expired and other thoughts had entered their minds. It was sort of awkward sitting in the same room with them. For years the three of them had been a team. Together, starting with fighting a troll in a girls' bathroom, they had had several terrifying and fantastic adventures. Some of the time in pairs but mostly it was all three of them. Harry smiled when he realized that, beginning with the start of their friendship fighting a troll, they had spent quite a bit of time in girls' bathrooms. They had brewed a Polyjuice potion in one and the Chamber of Secrets had its entrance in one as well.

Harry sat up. The Chamber of Secrets! It was either genius or stupidity. Only two people could get into it; Harry himself and his mortal enemy. Still, unless Voldemort came knocking, it was the most hidden and secure place he could think of.

Turning to his two friends he said, "I think I have a place to set up our own personal headquarters," then waited for their eyes to come back into focus.

Hermione came around first. "Where?" she asked.

"The Chamber of Secrets!" he answered, a hopeful look on his face.

They both looked at him. After a few seconds, as if on cue, they looked at each other and then turned back to him. Hermione asked, "Why do we need our own headquarters and why, of all places, the Chamber of Secrets?"

Harry was a little taken aback by this. He decided to just explain himself without getting offended at the necessity. "Well, we were just talking a while ago about needing to take prisoners and after a while it occurred to me that almost all of what we are doing should be secret. This place is the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix so that disqualifies it. I suppose we could find someplace else but hear me out first." He paused, waiting for their comments or acknowledgment to continue. Hermione gestured for him to continue but maintained her "this had better be good" demeanour.

"Well," he began, "it seems that we have several problems with prisoners. The first is finding room to keep them all. This assumes that we will be capturing lots of them. I think we all agree that no individual will give us much help in finding the other horcruxes so it will probably be lots of little pieces coming together." Neither of his partners contradicted him so he went on. "This will also mean that we will need to keep them for a long time and be able to re-question them as new things come to light. The chamber has lots of room. The next thing will be making sure that no one else can find them. As far as I know, Voldemort and I are the only ones who can get into it. I suppose we will have to work around that somehow." He looked at Hermione.

"I never saw it, Harry," she said. "Maybe we can come up with something but I can't promise anything."

"Fair enough," said Harry. He supposed that even Hermione hadn't read too many books on getting past enchanted doorways only accessible to Parselmouths. "The major problem is that it may, and I must stress the "may" part, it may be magically shielded. This could be important because the Death Eaters can track each other, at least to some degree."

"Exactly when did you get that little piece of information?" asked Ron. He had been in on most of the technical conversations but this was new to him.

"The same time you did," replied Harry. "You remember Karkaroff?" Ron nodded. "Well, it took them a few months but they found him in some cabin or something up north. I heard that from someone at my birthday party a couple of years ago."

Ron thought. "Yeah," he said after a few seconds. "It does sound familiar. How does that make you think they can track him? Maybe they just kept looking for him everywhere until they found him."

Hermione broke in. "I don't think they would have expended that amount of effort just to kill a coward," she said thoughtfully. "I mean, he wasn't actually doing anything against them so it must have been relatively easy to find him." She looked at Harry. "Do you have any ideas on how they track each other?" she asked.

"I think it might be the Dark Mark. If you'll recall, that mark is more than a tattoo. At the battle in the astronomy tower it allowed the Death Eaters access through a shield of some sort but not those without it," he said.

"That's right," agreed Ron. "It must be magically detectable or that sort of thing wouldn't work."

"But why do you think that the chamber would block that, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Because it remained hidden for a thousand years," replied Harry. "Nobody, not even Dumbledore could find it." He thought for a moment. "Actually, Fawkes was able to get there so it might not be as hidden as we would like." Turning to Hermione he asked "Could you see if there is a way to tell if it is truly hidden or not? We really need to know."

"Sure," said Hermione. "We might need to get Lupin in on this. I'm not as informed as he is on this sort of magic, you know."

"I know," replied Harry. "He has done all sorts of things ..." Harry broke off and thought deeply.

"What is it?" ask Ron. He and Hermione looked expectant.

"I was just thinking," said Harry. "Lupin was one of the original marauders. He helped make the Marauder's Map. I was just wondering if he could adapt it to our needs."

"What do you want it to do, mate?" asked Ron. The Marauder's Map had proven to be a most useful tool while attending Hogwarts. If Harry had a way to improve it, he wanted to know.

"If, as we suspect, the Dark Mark is detectable by magic, I was just wondering if the map could alert us if any Death Eaters get in range. And," he continued, "if it could be a little more portable, that would help us too."

"What do you mean by portable?" asked Hermione. "You can take it anywhere you want."

"You can take it anywhere in Hogwarts. I wonder if he could make it show everyone within a certain radius, mo matter where you are?" asked Harry eagerly.

"Let's see if Remus is able to get away from his house for a while," suggested Hermione.

Harry walked over to the fireplace and threw in some Floo powder. The fire turned green and Harry called in "Remus Lupin."

After about thirty seconds, Remus Lupin's head appeared in the fire. He smiled at the group and said "Hello, Harry, Ron, Hermione. What can I do for you?"

"If it isn't a bad time, could you please come here? We think we might be able to really use some of your, ah... special abilities," said Harry.

Remus smiled and said, "Sure. Just give me a few minutes. I have company over." Then with a pause he asked "Is this classified? I mean, it's just Tonks. Maybe she could help out?" he added.

The three looked at each other. Tonks was the cousin of Sirius and the girlfriend of Remus. If they wanted to have Remus help them, it seemed to be asking a lot of him to exclude her. Finally Harry spoke.

"I don't mind but we will have to talk to her about things when you get here," he stated diplomatically. Remus smiled and left the fire.

"Do you think it's a good idea to let her in on things, Harry?" asked Hermione. This surprised Harry since he trusted Tonks to keep a secret.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Well," began Hermione, "she is trustworthy and all that but if it gets back to Ginny that you are letting Remus' girlfriend in on the deal but not her, it might be a little upsetting for her."

Harry thought about what she had said. "I suppose, but technically, she isn't my girlfriend. I told you we broke up at the funeral." The memory was still a little hard on Harry.

"Oh, wise up, mate!" laughed Ron. "You don't think she'll give up on you that easy, do you?"

It took Harry all of one second to arrive at the conclusion of that riddle. No, Ginny would not be that easy to hold off. Before he could think further, the fireplace blazed green again and Remus and Tonks stepped into the room.

"Wotcher, Harry!" said Tonks, pink hair flowing to her shoulders.

"Hi, Tonks," replied Harry with a grin. He had always felt more at ease with Tonks than with almost any other Order member. He supposed that it was due to her age and fun-loving attitude.

After the initial banter was finished, Harry got down to business. "Tonks," he started, "before we say anything I want you to know that we trust you as much as Remus but we need to make absolutely sure about our secrecy." He paused a moment so she could be serious. Or at least as serious as she ever gets.

"Sure, Harry," she said, toning it down a notch. She could tell that this was not a social call.

"Alright," began Harry. "There are currently only five people alive who know what we are involved in. They are Hermione, Ron, Remus, Dobby and myself."

"Oh," said Ron. At Harry's look he said "I forgot about Dobby," he added sheepishly.

"Right," said Harry. "So anyway, it absolutely can't get around or we will have much more trouble than we do right now. I need to know that your being an Auror won't cause you any conflicts of interest or anything if we have to do some things that might not be Ministry approved." He waited for her answer.

"As long as you aren't trying to overthrow the government, I guess I'm in," she said, smiling.

Harry didn't return the smile. "Seriously, Tonks. With the past history of the Ministry, I am not sure that they won't have to go. If it comes down to it, what we are doing is more important."

This caught both Remus and Tonks by surprise. Remus spoke first. "I know you haven't told me the details about your activities but if it is really that serious, maybe Tonks shouldn't know." Harry knew he was taking a big personal risk by just suggesting that his girlfriend wasn't trustworthy.

"Harry," said Tonks. "I know you and I trust you. Furthermore, Dumbledore trusted you. If what you say causes me to have any conflicts with my duty as an Auror, I will resign to help you."

Harry was touched. He expected this kind of loyalty from Ron and Hermione and, to some extent, Lupin, but he didn't really have a long history with Tonks. Perhaps she would be an asset.

"Okay. Here is the deal," began Harry. "Wait a second. Dobby!" Dobby appeared.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby. "What can Dobby be doing for Harry Potter, sir?" he asked.

"Well for one thing, please just call me Harry, okay? It will shorten our conversations down substantially," Harry said, laughing.

"That will be very hard, Harry...Potter...sir," said the elf. "Perhaps I could just call you 'sir', sir," he suggested.

Harry rolled his eyes. "That will be fine for now," he said. "Maybe later Hermione will come up with something that won't make me feel like the Prime Minister." Everyone laughed.

"I need you to join us, Dobby. Remus, Tonks and you have all agreed to help Ron, Hermione and me with a very important task. It is time I got you all up to speed on where we are and what we are doing."

Harry then told a detail limited version of why Voldemort didn't die when the killing curse backfired. He told the tale of how Tom Riddle discovered that horcruxes would lead to immortality. How he murdered his own father and grandparents. How he framed his uncle for the crime. The discovery of the diary and its significance to the quest. The night in the graveyard. How Dumbledore was injured in the destruction of another horcrux and died because he was weakened while he and Harry attempted to retrieve another. He spoke of their theories on the status and possible homes of the remaining horcruxes and why the final defeat of Lord Voldemort could not take place until they were all destroyed. He then told them the text of the prophecy that had determined his fate since he was one year old.

After he had summarized their mission, he sat back. "Any questions?" he asked the room at large.

"Just one," said Lupin. "Why aren't you in a nut house? You literally have the fate of the world depending on your ability to perform a near impossible task."

Tonks agreed. "I see what you mean about the Ministry not being allowed to get in the way," she said. "If you don't make it possible for You-know-who to be killed, what's the point of anything else?"

Hermione spoke to Tonks. "Tonks," she said calmly, "there is only one other person in this room who doesn't say Voldemort's name and that is Dobby. It may be hard at first but you will get used to it. Dobby, on the other hand, can't seem to just say "Harry" so I'm not so optimistic about him coming around."

Tonks and Remus laughed. "Okay, Hermione," said Tonks. "I'll try to say...Vol...Voldemort," she shuddered.

"Good," said Harry. "If you like, you can call him Tom Riddle. That's his real name, after all. He showed me how he just rearranged the letters to form Lord Voldemort." He added "Of course, you have to have his middle name to make it work. It's Marvolo and it actually rearranges to spell "I am Lord Voldemort "."

"Who showed you?" asked Tonks. She had heard a lot of information that night and Harry had glossed over some of the less important points of his story.

"Tom Riddle," said Harry. "In the Chamber of Secrets just before he was going to kill me." He waited a moment and added "It's too bad we don't have a Pensieve. I could show you. It was a pretty good piece of magic."

Tonks and Lupin had had enough. "Harry, I think I speak for both of us when I say we are honoured that you have shared all of this with us and that we will help you to the best of our ability," said Lupin. Tonks nodded. "Right now it is after midnight. I know you called me here to help with something but I certainly hope it can wait until morning. I, for one, have enough to think about tonight." Tonks nodded again. "Unless it can't wait, might I suggest we start again after breakfast?" he asked.

Harry chuckled a little. "I suppose," he said. Then with a mischievous glint in his eye, he added "The rest of it is pretty scary so it will be better to wait until morning, anyway."

Tonks just looked at him as her jaw dropped. She saw the smile on Lupin's face and realized she had been had. "I can't believe you could joke about it after all you have been through, Harry," she said, astounded.

"Might as well," replied Harry. "If I started dwelling on everything, I would probably end up in that nut house after all."

Remus and Tonks went back to Remus' house for the night. Ron, Hermione and Harry said their goodnights and also went to their respective rooms.

Harry was considering whether to take a shower now or wait until morning when a flash of light illuminated the room. Fawkes had arrived.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Dumbledore's Letter

June 11, 1997 - Very Early Morning

Harry turned towards the phoenix. It looked just as beautiful as ever. The fiery red and gold plumage seemed to glow on its own in the dim room.

"Hello, Fawkes," said Harry, when his surprise had faded somewhat. "What brings you here?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

He got one. Fawkes gave a little trill and another flash preceded a letter falling to Harry's feet. Harry picked it up. Fawkes gave a final trill and with a flap of his wings, vanished in a flash of flame.

Harry looked at the letter. It was addressed "To Harry Potter: Alone in the bedroom of his own house." There was no mistaking Dumbledore's writing. Harry carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a parchment and another envelope; this one addressed to "Minerva McGonagall or the current Headmaster of Hogwarts".

Harry read the parchment.

Dear Harry,

I have asked my friend Fawkes to deliver this letter to you after my death when you are alone in your own house. I wanted to make sure that you are the only one around when it was delivered. I also wanted to make sure you were not at your relatives house so as not to cause you further trouble. I will not say much in this letter since I will not be able to update it if necessary. As I write this, I have just resumed my post as Headmaster and much may have happened since then. If you will take the envelope to Hogwarts and present it to the current Headmaster or Headmistress (I assume it will be Minerva but I have been wrong before now), all will be explained. Please accept my apologies for not explaining further at this time. Please do this as soon as possible.

Yours,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry looked at the clock. One in the morning. It had been a long day and he was sure that the Headmistress would not look kindly on him waking her. "As soon as possible "will be after breakfast.

June 11 - Breakfast

The next morning, Harry showered and put on some jeans and a t-shirt. When he walked down to the kitchen, he found Remus, Tonks and Hermione already eating their breakfast. Dobby had been more than happy to prepare it for them. Harry sat down and Dobby plopped down half a dozen caldron cakes, three eggs and at least a half a pound of bacon on his plate. Harry wondered if he was channeling Mrs. Weasley.

"What would Sir like to drink, sir?" asked Dobby.

Harry banged his head on the table. "The name is Harry, Dobby. Just Harry. Please just call me Harry and I will be the happiest man in England." Harry felt like grabbing Dobby by the ears and shaking him but since Hermione would kill him, he resisted.

"Yes, ...Harry..." Dobby said slowly. He really didn't look like he wanted to do this. "Dobby will call you ... Harry ..." Harry thought Dobby was probably just silently saying the rest but felt that progress was being made.

"Thank you, Dobby," said Harry. "I would like some coffee, please." The coffee was in front of him before he finished saying "please'. Good service.

After making an attempt at the mountain of food in front of him he asked, "Where's Ron?" The tall redhead was nowhere to be seen; unusual when there was food to be had.

"He already finished," said Hermione. "I think he wanted to floo to the Burrow. He said something about needing something from his room to help him feel more at home."

"Probably just wanted to get a second breakfast from his mother," joked Harry.

Hermione laughed. She was reading the Daily Prophet and seemed to be in a good mood. Harry asked if there was anything interesting in the paper.

"Not really," she replied. "Just the usual." She went back to the paper.

"I had a visitor last night," said Harry, casually. Hermione, Remus and Tonks all stopped what they were doing and looked at him. "Fawkes dropped off a letter from Dumbledore."

"Really?" asked Lupin. He seemed to wake up quite a bit fairly fast. "What did it say?"

"It basically told be to see McGonagall as soon as I could and take her an envelope that was included. Other than that, not much." He showed them the letter.

Lupin read the letter and then said "I guess that will put us off for this morning, then." He looked at Tonks. "If we hurry, do you think we can be all moved in here by this afternoon?" he asked.

"I don't see why not," she answered. "I still have most of my stuff in boxes and you were mostly done last night." Harry didn't ask why her stuff was in boxes. He already suspected. Blimey, they moved fast.

They decided that the next meeting could wait until that afternoon. Hermione asked Harry if she could come with him to see McGonagall. The letter was written before Dumbledore told Harry he trust Ron and Hermione with everything so he assumed that it would be alright. They left after Hermione had changed. Her original choice of clothes were more suited for bumming around the house versus visiting the Headmistress of their school.

They flooed the Headmistresses office and asked permission to see her. McGonagall was still at the school (and probably would be all summer, thought Harry) but said she could spare them some time. They stepped out of the fireplace and stood before her.

Harry wasn't sure where to begin or how much to say. He hoped the letter would be self-explanatory. "I received a note from Professor Dumbledore last night. It was delivered by Fawkes."

Professor McGonagall was not a young witch. From her reaction, Harry wondered if she would make it to being an old witch.

After her heart rate got down to double digits, she asked Harry what he meant.

"Apparently, Professor Dumbledore arranged for Fawkes to bring me this note in the event of his death," he said. He handed her the note and the envelope addressed to her.

McGonagall read the note Dumbledore sent to Harry and looked at the envelope addressed to her. She looked at the portrait of Dumbledore and he, in turn, looked back at her. "I suggest you open it," he said.

She looked back at the envelope and, using her wand, opened it. She read the note inside and looked at Harry. She looked at the portrait. She then looked back at the note. She did not look pleased. She addressed Harry. "Mr, Potter," she began, "it appears that I am to provide you with some materials of some sort but I am not to know, or more exactly, not remember what they might be." She turned from Harry to the portrait of Dumbledore. "Albus," she said. "I don't wish to embarrass Mr. Potter but since Miss Granger is here, could I let her perform the spell? I would feel just slightly better about it." She looked hopefully at her predecessor.

Dumbledore laughed. "That will be quite all right, Minerva. I doubt that you will get much of an argument from Harry on Hermione's abilities."

Hermione blushed to the point of giving Ron a run for his money. Harry laughed and nodded his head to Dumbledore and even McGonagall managed a small smile.

The Headmistress got up and walked over to the bookcase by the window. She scanned the shelves until she found what she was looking for. She returned to her desk and place the book in front of her. She then turned to Hermione.

"Miss Granger," she began. "This note describes a form of the obliviate spell that does not require Legilimancy to perform. It is much safer for the recipient, in this case myself, and should be well within your abilities. Please read the note and be sure to ask any questions you might have on it's operation. She handed the note to Hermione.

Hermione read the note very carefully, nodding from time to time and moving her hand as if waving a wand. Finally, she looked up to McGonagall. "It looks fairly simple. I'm sure I can do it," she said, trying to comfort her professor with words of confidence.

"Very well, Hermione," replied McGonagall. "I trust you." Turning to Harry she said, "Mr. Potter, the reason for this level of secrecy is to provide you with a secure location to store something. Albus has not chosen to inform me of it's nature but he says that even the Fidelius Charm on your house would not be sufficient protection for what you may need to safeguard. Apparently, there is a place within this office of which I am not aware, which can only be opened by the rightful head of the school and to which no one may have access without knowing a specific password. He has placed the items you are to receive there and it's further uses to you will be revealed while I am under the spell. I will only know of it's existence, not how to find it."

Harry thought about this and realized after a moment that the items he might have to store for a while would be any horcruxes he might find. They would have to remain secure until he could destroy them. He then slipped off on a tangent that was begun late last night. Perhaps he wouldn't need Dumbledore's hiding place.

"Professor," he began, addressing McGonagall, "could I please have a few minutes with Professor Dumbledore?"

McGonagall was a little confused by this, not having had access to Harry's thoughts. She recovered quickly and said "of course." She rose from her chair.

Before she could leave, Dumbledore's portrait said, "Harry, does this mean you might have an even more secure location already in mind?"

"Yes, sir," replied Harry. He didn't want to say anymore in front of McGonagall.

"In that case, I would suggest that your beautiful girlfriend perform the spell. Minerva might be able to help answer your questions better than I due to my recent diminishment. I am afraid that I am now just a portrait and am not really empowered with all of my former abilities and knowledge."

Harry nodded. He then said, "I guess we should continue, then." He looked at Hermione who also nodded and drew her wand. Looking once more at the note she waved her wand and said "Obiviate Tractus." Nothing happened. She looked at the portrait of Dumbledore and he winked at her.

"There is no flash or other effects with that spell, Miss Granger. You have performed it correctly, I think," he said.

"Very well," said McGonagall. "I suggest we proceed. Please be aware that I will not remember anything about what we do or say after the counter spell is performed so you will need to reinform me of anything you wish when I am back to normal." She looked at him expectantly.

"Of course, Professor," Harry said. Turning to the portrait he said "Professor. Last night we were discussing the possibility of a more secure location than Grimmauld Place as a base for our activities. As you have noted, it might not be the most appropriate place since it is also the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Well, I was wondering if maybe the Chamber of Secrets might be better."

"Bloody hell, Harry!"

Harry looked around for Ron. He was surprised to see the unflappable Minerva McGonagall trying to catch her breath. Hermione was also surprised but had a small grin on her face as, she too, had made the connection to the missing member of their group.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "It just caught me by surprise. Please go on. Why do you think the Chamber of Secrets would be more secure than my office?"

"Well, Professor. Professors, I should say," he said, nodding to Dumbledore, "it had been hidden for about a thousand years. Only a parselmouth can enter it and I believe it is shielded from most magic. I wanted Professor Dumbledore's opinion on this last point."

Professor Dumbledore thought for a moment and then said, "I am not sure if it is shielded or was just outside of the range of most searches for it. You said you believed it is shielded from "most "magic. I take it you know of some exceptions?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "Fawkes was able to bring the sorting hat to me. That could mean that you can apparate there once you know where it is or it might just be a special ability of Fawkes. I notice that he has no problems with the wards around Hogwarts."

"That is true, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "You are the only one besides Ginny Weasley who had been in the actual chamber. Why don't you try to apparate there now?" he suggested.

Harry concentrated on the spot in front of the statue. With a turn, he was gone.

The apparition was different than he was used to. It seemed as if he had to push harder to get to his destination. Harry found himself in total darkness. He reached for his wand but before he could say anything, the torches in the chamber noticed his presence and ignited. He looked around and saw the basilisk on the floor. Only a few scraps of meat were left; the rats had taken care of the rest. The bones had not bleached due to the lack of the sun and had a strange yellowish caste. He looked around the chamber for a minute to adjust his perception of it's size to adult proportions, not the memory of a twelve year old boy. He then concentrated on the headmaster's office and returned.

When he popped back, he noticed a smile on the faces of the others. "What?" he asked.

"Did you get into the chamber?" asked Hermione. She still had that knowing smile but said nothing else.

"Yes, I did," replied Harry. "It was a little different than normal but it worked."

"Different in what way?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Well," began Harry, "It's a little hard to describe. It was a little harder to do. Sort of like walking through water instead of air."

"I see," said Dumbledore. He seemed to understand what Harry meant.

"Could you please show it to us?" said McGonagall. She stood up and walked to the other side of her desk.

"Well, sure," said Harry, apprehensively. "I'm not sure if you should see it, though."

"Harry. She won't remember any of this," said Hermione.

"Oh, right," said Harry. Hermione grabbed one arm and Professor the other. "I didn't know you could do two people with side-along apparition," he said.

"Oh, that is just what most people do," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm sure you will have no problem with the both of us. After all, we aren't going far."

Harry thought she must be correct and without another thought, they were in the Chamber of Secrets.

When the torches relit, Harry looked up at the statue. A second later, twin screams pierced his ears.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" This time it was Hermione. She and McGonagall had both turned around and seen the basilisk skeleton at the same time.

"Yeah. Scary, isn't it?" asked Harry, assuming that they were surprised to see it without warning. He walked over to where he had collapsed after being poisoned and picked up the fang, still laying where he had dropped it. It was smaller in his hand now but was still quite sharp. "This hurt when it went in, I can tell you," he said with a smile, turning to face the women.

Hermione looked at the fang, then the snake and then back to Harry. She then gave him a hug and cried in his shoulder.

McGonagall said, "Harry, you must not be a fisherman. When you said the basilisk was fifty feet long, I assumed that it was the exaggeration of youth. I could not believe that a creature of that size could be fought, much less overcome, by a boy of twelve. I am having many assumptions put to the test this day."

Harry didn't really know what to say. He gently helped Hermione away from him and decided to get to the subject at hand. "Well, Fawkes had the most to do with that," he said. "Anyway, this is a pretty big place as you can see." He motioned down the pillars towards the far end. "If we could just put up some anti-apparition wards, it would probably be safe. I mean, only Voldemort and I can open that door. As long as he doesn't come along, we would not have anything to worry about."

The witches looked around and nodded. McGonagall finally said "Just let me try something, Harry." She closed her eyes and turned around. She then did it again. She turned to Hermione. "Could you please try now, Miss Granger?" she asked.

"Of course, Headmistress," Hermione replied. She repeated McGonagall's movements with the same results.

"That should be enough," said McGonagall. "I believe that this place is secure. We can now return to my office, Mr. Potter."

"Wait a moment," said Hermione. "Harry, please call Dobby."

Harry didn't know why she wanted Dobby but called out just the same. When the elf didn't appear, he tried again. "He must be busy or something," he said with a shrug.

"Ok, let's go then," said Hermione. When Harry started to apparate, she called out "Stop! You have to take us with you!" Both Hermione and McGonagall grabbed an arm and Harry took them back to the Headmaster's Office.

When they arrived he asked, "I don't get it. Why didn't you both just apparate back yourselves?" he asked. "You didn't know where the chamber was but you did know where this office was."

Before they could answer, Dobby popped into the room and rushed to embrace Harry.

"Oh, Master Harry! Master Harry!" he shouted. "Dobby is so worried. He hears Master calling and isn't finding him anywhere. He can tell Master is being in Hogwarts but just isn't finding him." Harry tried to comfort the elf and was joined by Hermione but he was near hysterical. After about a full minute of crying and babbling, he seamed to get a grip on himself.

"Don't worry about it, Dobby," said Harry. He then had a thought. If they did want to make use of the chamber, Dobby would need to be able to find it. "Dobby, I want to take you somewhere. It is where I was. If you see it, do you think you might be able to find it again?"

"Dobby isn't knowing but Dobby will try, Master Harry Potter, sir," said the elf. Clearly, he reverted to his most comfortable means of addressing Harry when distraught.

"OK," said Harry, taking Dobby's hand. He apparated them to the chamber. When they got there, he asked Dobby to try to pop back to the office and then back to him.

Dobby looked around for a minute to remember the place and then was gone. A second later, he returned, a smile on his face.

"Very good, Dobby," said Harry, breathing a sigh of relief. "Let's go back to the Headmistress's office then." Dobby popped away and Harry followed.

When they returned, Harry asked Dobby to remain with them. Turning to Professor Dumbledore, he said "I believe that it will work fairly well, sir. It seems that it is at least partially shielded from magic. Dobby could hear me call but could only get a general idea of my location. Fortunately, he can go there now that he knows where it is." He paused, looking at Hermione and McGonagall. "I am not sure about apparating there. For some reason, I can do it but you two can't. Do you have any ideas on why?"

"They can't do it because they are not you, Harry," said Dumbledore. Harry turned around.

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Harry. "Does it have something to do with being able to speak parselmouth?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, I don't believe it is anything quite as difficult as that. You see, apparating to the chamber is not the only thing you have done today that you should not have been able to do."

Harry thought about that but couldn't think of anything else. "What else have I done?" he finally asked.

Dumbledore looked to Hermione and said "Perhaps you would like to answer that, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked at Harry with her usual expression when he couldn't figure out something simple. "Harry," she began, "you should not have been able to apparate out of this office. We are in Hogwarts and the wards should have prevented you from being able to go anywhere."

"But how?" asked Harry to the room at large.

"I believe I can answer that, Harry," said Dumbledore. "There are two main reasons that you were able to defeat the ward of this school. First, you have an unusually pronounced ability at apparition. You demonstrated this when you side-along apparated the two of us from the cave to Hogsmeade. That was about four hundred and fifty miles. On average, most wizards and witches are able to achieve only one hundred miles or so. The other factor that allows you to override the schools wards is the fact that you have a larger than normal, in fact extraordinary amount of magical power that you almost never allow yourself to recognize. Let me explain. Do you remember the year when we hosted the dementors?" Harry nodded. "When they attacked you at the quidditch match, I was able to drive them off with my patronus."

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "I remember. You drove off about a hundred of them if I was told correctly." He looked at Hermione and smiled.

"Yes, that's correct," said Dumbledore. "But later that year, you also drove off a hundred dementors. How do you think you did that?"

Harry thought for a moment and then answered "Well, I had already done it so I just let it happen. I mean I didn't realize it while I was watching it happen next to Sirius but once I figured out it was me, I didn't have any doubts it wouldn't happen just as before."

"Exactly," exclaimed Dumbledore. "You just let it happen with no doubts. That is the key, Harry."

Harry looked confused so Dumbledore continued. "You see, most wizards, most people in fact, have preconceived notions about their abilities. They think they can only run so fast, jump so high, learn so much and so forth and therefore, they impose limits on themselves that can persist for a lifetime. You saw yourself produce a very powerful patronus so when the time came, you did it again. You had no doubts. In fact, you expected it to be just as it was."

Harry asked "So anyone can perform powerful magic as long as they think they can?" It couldn't be that simple. Why didn't they teach us this stuff?

"Not quite, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "Anyone can perform magic to the best of their abilities as long as they don't hold themselves back. Only very powerful witches or wizards are a match for you, however."

Harry had a hard time accepting that statement. "If I am so powerful, then why do I have such a hard time in class, sir?" he asked.

"It is because you don't really learn to use power in class. You learn to control magic. This takes a great amount of mental ability. Miss Granger, as you know, is very good at this. Her power, however, is not quite at your level, although I should point out that she is a very capable witch." He winked at her.

"So if we could combine her brain and my power, we would get someone like you?" Harry asked, a smirk on his face.

"I am very glad that I can't blush anymore. But essentially, you are correct. I think Minerva had better prepare herself for when your children start here," he said, glancing at Hermione.

Hermione blushed and Harry said "Oh, we aren't together. Hermione is sort of dating Ron and I was sort of dating Ginny, sir."

"Excuse the misinterpretation, Harry. You too, Hermione. It is none of my business. I wish you both the best of luck in your relationships," said Dumbledore. "As far as your ability to apparate in Hogwarts is concerned, your description reminds me of the sensation that I felt when I had to apparate within the grounds of the school."

"Shall we move on?" said McGonagall. "I am, after all, going to forget all of this and would like to give Mr. Potter his items you have stored here and have this spell removed." She looked it, too.

"Of course, of course," said Dumbledore. "Please turn the book on your desk to the page indicated in your note."

McGonagall returned to her desk and, reviewing her note, turned the book to page 75. Another note was slipped into the book. It read:

: "Things to give Harry Potter in the event of my death."

My Pensieve - (It is in the cupboard to the left of the window)

The items in the Headmaster's Vault (see instructions below to gain entry)

The key to Gringotts vault number 92 - (It is in my center desk drawer and has the number 92 printed on it)

Please see the portrait for more details on each of these items.

To open the Headmaster's Vault you must place your hand on the window sill and utter the words "Frodo Lives" three times. There is no other way to enter this vault. When you are finished, say "The new password is" and then say your new password. The door will close and the password will change.

McGonagall opened the drawer and found, after a brief search, the key. She handed it to Harry. She then rose, walked to the cupboard and pulled out the pensieve. She gave this to Harry, as well. Then, with a little uncertainty, she put her hand on the window sill and said with grave solemnity, "Frodo lives, Frodo lives, Frodo lives."

Hermione burst out laughing. Of the four living creatures in the room, she was the only one who had read "The Lord of the Rings'.

Although it was a bright day out, the light entering the room faded quickly to black and, with a click, the window opened revealing a deep cupboard behind the glass. McGonagall reached into the space and pulled out a box and a notebook. They were the only items in the vault. She handed them to Harry. She then turned back to the window and said "The new password is "pussycat "." The window closed and became a window again.

Harry handed all of the items to Dobby and said, "Please place these things in my bedroom, Dobby. You may then stay at Grimmauld Place unless I call you." Dobby took the items and left.

Harry turned to the portrait. "Will I find instructions on the items in the notebook, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "All except for the key. It is my inheritance from Nicholas Flamel. It is an unregistered vault that anyone with the key has access to. Please do not lose the key. Use the funds to fight Voldemort, restore whatever damage he has caused and to help those in need. I will trust you not to need any of the gold for your own use since I have some idea of Sirius' assets. Just use it for good."

"Professor McGonagall. Before we finish the memory spell, I would like to ask permission to use the Chamber of Secrets for my own purposes in the battle against Voldemort," said Harry.

"I will allow it but why ask before the charm is removed? I won't remember," replied McGonagall.

"I know, but I have permission, so that is all that I require," replied Harry.

Dumbledore laughed and even McGonagall smiled a bit. "Very well, Potter," she said.

Harry retrieved the note from the book and the one that Dumbledore had sent McGonagall. "You may finish the spell now, Hermione," he said.

Hermione waved her wand again and uttered "Obliviate Expleo." Again, nothing happened.

McGonagall looked at Hermione and said "Maybe you didn't do it correctly, Hermione," she said kindly. Hermione looked back at the note in a panic.

Before she could try again, Dumbledore said "Minerva, where is the Headmaster's vault?"

She looked at him and said, "Well, that is one of the things you didn't want me to know, Albus." She seemed a little put out.

"Professor," Harry said. "Exactly how much of this morning do you remember?"

"Why all of it. I was working at my desk when you flooed me asking to visit. You then showed me some notes from Albus and Miss Granger was going to use a memory charm on me. Apparently, it didn't work."

"It did work, Professor," said Hermione. "We have concluded our business here and will be going for now."

Harry addressed McGonagall. "Professor, if you would step by the window, there is something you should know." He waited for her to come to the window. "Please place your hand on the sill." She looked a little confused but complied. "Now say pussycat three times."

"Why on earth would I do that, Potter?" she said, not very amused.

"Because that is the current password to your secret vault." Harry waited, not able to completely suppress his smile.

"Oh, very well," she said. "Pussycat, pussycat, pussycat." The window darkened again and opened.

"How on earth did you know about that?" she asked.

"We found out while you were under the spell. You can change the password if you like. To close the vault just say "The new password is "and say the new password. You can wait until we leave if you like," said Harry.

"Don't you want the things that Albus left you?" she asked. It must have been a good spell. She had no clue.

"We already have them, Professor," replied Hermione. With that, she and Harry left for Grimmauld Place.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Fortress of Solitude

June 11th Afternoon

When Harry and Hermione returned from Hogwarts, Ron was there to greet them.

"Why didn't you guys tell me you were going to see McGonagall?" he asked. He seemed to be upset but Harry wasn't sure why. It wasn't intended to be that big a deal. Harry was just going to pick up something Dumbledore wanted him to have and Hermione had only asked to go at the last minute.

"Because you were gone," replied Harry. "It turned out to be an interesting trip but we didn't plan on it." This extra information did not seem to appease Ron.

"Interesting?" he asked. "How was it interesting?" He looked between them with an accusatory expression.

"If you'll calm down, we'll tell you," said Hermione. Really, if Ron was going to even be jealous of Harry, what would she do with him?

"Why don't you fill Ron in," Harry said to Hermione. "I'll go see what was in that box." Harry thought it best to let Ron and Hermione work this out for themselves.

When he got to his room, he briefly searched for the box, notebook and pensieve. Having no success and not wishing to spend the whole day at it, he called Dobby.

"I give up, Dobby," he said. "Where did you put the stuff I gave you?"

"Dobby is putting it in the second bedroom on the left hand side of the third floor hallway, Harry Potter, sir," said the elf.

Harry was not so much surprised as curious. "Why did you do that? I believe I asked you to put them in "my "bedroom," he said.

"This is Harry Potter's house and all of the bedrooms are Harry Potter's," replied Dobby.

"That's fine, Dobby. Please bring all those things here," he said.

Dobby brought everything down in a few seconds and placed them on Harry's desk. "Thank you, Dobby. Could you make that wall soft for me, please?" he asked, politely.

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir," replied Dobby. "But why is Harry Potter wanting a wall soft?" he asked.

"Because I expect I'll be spending a lot of my time banging my head against it," he replied.

When Dobby left, Harry started to examine the contents of the box. Inside was a smaller, compartmentalized box that had several numbered vials. The lid of the box had a piece of parchment on it with a list of numbers that matched the number of vials. Beside each number was a short description. Number 1 was titled Tom R/orphanage. Number 2 was titled Tom R/Myrtle. This seemed to be the memories that Harry and Professor Dumbledore had viewed in his office. There were many empty vials. Harry thought that he should find out how to put his own memories in them so that if something happened to him, they would not be lost.

The next item was a little round sphere on a chain. On it was a note that said "Very Powerful. See Portrait for details." Harry looked at it and could see nothing very unusual about it. Just a round ball of silver. Maybe a little glow from inside but it was hard to tell.

The last item was a small framed painting of Dumbledore. Harry's eyes moistened at the sight and he set the frame on his dresser.

"I realize that I'm not as handsome as Gilderoy Lockhart but I didn't used to cause people that much distress when they had to look at me," said the painting.

Harry was surprised at first and then a little embarrassed. Hadn't he just spent the morning chatting with a portrait of Dumbledore in McGonagall's office? "Hello, Professor," he said tentatively.

"Hello again, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "I see you aren't wasting any time in examining the items I wished for you to have," he said.

"Yes, Professor," replied Harry. "Excuse me, sir," he began. "Are you in both frames at the same time or are you moving between them?" Harry was unsure of the rules for paintings.

"I can only be in one of my frames at a time but I can mostly hear what is being said near the others," replied Dumbledore. "I should be able to come see you if you call, for instance."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry. This could be the most valuable item in the box. Access to even a little of Dumbledore's wisdom was incalculable.

"You are most welcome, Harry," said the portrait. "Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir," replied Harry, looking at the image of his ex-headmaster.

"While I would expect you to share the existence of this portrait of me with Ron and Hermione, and maybe a few others, I would suggest that you refrain from making it common knowledge," he said.

"Of course, sir," responded Harry. "I will only inform those who can be best served by this information, Professor."

"Very good, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "Might I make another suggestion? Perhaps it would be wise to refer to me with an alias, much the same way you called Sirius "Snuffles" ."

Harry thought for a second and then said the most obvious name he could think of. "How about Grandpa?" he suggested.

Dumbledore laughed. "Yes, I thought that might be one of your choices. I have no complaints. In fact, I often think of my students as my grandchildren," he said.

"I have a confession to make, sir. I mean, Grandpa. After we had several of our lessons, I often thought of you in the same way.", said Harry.

"I am touched, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "Now, we must get on to more important matters. First, the pensieve. You have been in it many times. Do you have an questions?"

Harry thought for a minute about all of the times he had entered that most magical of objects. After just a little thought, a question did occur to him. "Yes, sir. I mean Grandpa. That is going to be hard to get used to.", he said. "Anyway, I am not sure if a memory is copied from your mind or removed. It seems that you had knowledge of what was going to happen in your own memories but Snape put his memories in it to guard them from me."

"That is a most accurate observation, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You can choose to either remove or merely copy your memories. The distinction is made with the spell used to obtain the memories. You will find both explained in my notebook."

"Thank you, Grandpa," said Harry. "And what is this?" he asked, holding up the silver sphere.

"That, Harry," replied Dumbledore "is a very special gift from Grandpa. You are not yet ready to use it to it's full capabilities. Despite your performance in Minerva's office this morning, you still restrict your magical abilities too much to achieve the goal I pursued while I made this charm. The only instances in which you have performed to the true best of your abilities were when you had absolute knowledge of your ability and when you were ignorant of it. The former occurred when you summoned your patronus by the lake and the latter was when you tested the ability to apparate to the chamber of secrets. You will need access to your true power at all times. I have hope that, with practice, you will be able to open wide the flow of magic through you. I hope also to teach you how to utilize the other elemental powers you have in such abundance. They are love and life. Together, the three of them are nearly insurmountable."

"Love and life are powers?" asked Harry. This was new to him.

"Oh yes, Harry," said Dumbledore. "And no. Magic is important, to be sure, and the ability to allow it to flow through you is one of your greatest characteristics and the source of your magical power. But when love and life are added, the magic is magnified many times over. Love and life focus and enhance certain types of magic in the right circumstances. The ability to use these powers is very hard to learn and control but the results are well worth it."

"And the ball helps with that?" asked Harry. He wasn't sure what Dumbledore meant by focus and enhance.

"No, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "The ball has another function that will aid you in a very different way, if I am not mistaken. But to use it properly, we must first remove the self-imposed kinks and clogs in your magical plumbing. You will need to be wholly confident and focused to be able to use this powerful sphere. I will help you there. For now, just put it aside. I wish it to be safe as it took a long time and a great deal of my magical power to produce."

Harry looked at the orb one more time and then wrapped it in a thick pair of socks and placed it on a shelf in the back of his closet.

Just then, he heard knock on his door. He called that it was OK to enter and Hermione stepped into his room. She looked a little put out.

Harry asked "Did you get that all sorted out?" He didn't think she had but one could only hope.

Hermione glowered at him and said "Well, yes. If by " sorted out" you mean did we have a raging argument over nothing." She plopped down on the bed. "He thinks that we should have realized that any trip to see McGonagall would be important and that we should have waited for him." Then with a disgusted look on her face she added "Do you have any idea what it was he wanted from the burrow in the first place?"

"No idea. What?" he asked.

"His bloody Chuddley Cannons posters," she said, trying not to wince too much with distaste. Hermione barely tolerated quidditch when she knew the players personally. The level of interest she showed for local teams was somewhere below none.

Harry laughed. Just then Ron came in the room and saw the two of them standing there.

"Sounds like you two are having a lot of fun when I'm not around," said Ron. He looked about ready to blow again, as did Hermione so Harry decided to head them both off and change the subject. "Have either of you ever seen my grandfather?" he asked. They both shook their heads, surprised at the question.

I have a picture of him over here", he said, pointing at Dumbledore's portrait. When he looked as he pointed, he just about doubled over as he started laughing uncontrollably. Dumbledore had put his glasses on upside down, parted his beard down the middle and tied the ends on top of his head. He stood there with a wide clueless smile on his face looking back at the bewildered teens.

"Gram... Gramp... ," Harry laughed. He really ought to just wait it out.

While Harry tried to gain control of himself, Dumbledore said "This must have worked out much better than I expected. I must go try out this look on Minerva," he called as he rushed out of the frame.

Ron and Hermione turned to Harry. "Was that Dumbledore?" asked Ron, gaping at the empty frame. Not having as much personal time with the headmaster, they were not as aware of his sense of humor as was Harry.

"Yes," said Harry. "It was in the box of stuff that we picked up. There were also the memories that Grampa and I viewed during my lessons and a ball on a chain that he says I can't use yet."

"Grampa?" asked Hermione. "Is there something you need to tell us?" she asked, her eyebrow rising beneath her hair.

"It's just a code word for Dumbledore," Harry explained. "We don't want everyone to know we have a portrait of him here. This way, we can just say we need to talk to Grampa or something and no one will be the wiser."

Just then, Dumbledore re-appeared in his frame. He was laughing good-naturedly. "Minerva wasn't amused. She said that it confirmed to her that 150 years was not enough time for me to grow up." He put his beard down and turned his glasses over. "So, Harry," he said. "Have you decided on your course of action yet?"

Harry, put on the spot, tried to gather his thoughts. "We have started, sir," he said, hesitantly. "We decided that we should be working on finding the other horcruxes full time so it is not likely that we will be returning to school, even if it reopens."

"That may or may not be a good idea, especially considering your recent choice of a base, Harry," said Dumbledore, scratching his beard.

"I realize that, sir," replied Harry. "It was only very recently that the chamber became a potential location for us. Until then, we were thinking about Grimmauld Place but it may not be isolated enough for our needs, with it being the headquarters of the Order and all."

"And what needs are those," asked the portrait.

"We may need to take a more active approach to gathering intelligence," said Hermione. "If we are to find the missing horcruxes, we will need to start taking some prisoners and keeping them for extended periods of time. The Chamber of Secrets would be ideal."

"It is perfectly safe now," explained Harry. It can only be accessed by apparition unless you are a parselmouth and apparition is only possible if you have seen it in person and have a lot of power. This means that the only people who can get into it right now are Dobby, Voldemort and me." Turning to Dumbledore, he said "I still don't really get that part. You said I can apparate there because I have enough power but then why can't Hermione or Professor McGonagall? They both are more powerful than I am?"

"That is the problem, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "You can not imagine that your ability exceeds that of Minerva or Hermione. It is for this reason that you limit yourself to just below their level."

Harry was unconvinced. "Hermione can blow me out of my shoes anytime she wants," he exclaimed, exasperated. Harry did not see what was so hard to understand about this fact.

Dumbledore smiled. "We will work on this later, Harry," he said, kindly. "Just know this; as great a witch as Miss Granger is, she could not summon a patronus to disperse one hundred dementors like you did. Indeed, I was only able to do so when safely surrounded by hundreds of happy children. You were fighting for your life, alone by the lake. It has a lot to do with magical endurance, as well. Any defense can be breached by enough power over a sufficient time. Hogwarts' walls, for example, could eventually be beaten down by a giant with a hammer." He paused a moment and then asked "What other objectives do you have planned?"

Harry would have liked to continue the discussion but knew that Dumbledore wanted to stick on the subject at hand. "Well, we have hired Dobby, and Remis and Tonks are working with us. I hope that Remis can modify the Marauder's Map to either have a larger range or a relative one. I would also like to be alerted if Death Eaters are within a certain distance of us," he continued.

"I think that all of those are excellent ideas. I was not, of course, consulted on the making of the Marauder's Map but I think that at least one of your modifications should be possible."

"I hope so," agreed Harry. "Perhaps you could work with Remis on the revisions," he suggested.

"Alas, no," said Dumbledore. He looked a little sad about this. "I am afraid that one of the disadvantages of being merely a painting is that my ability to work on detailed projects is limited. I will be able to help you master your power problems in a general sense and help with your plans in general but the minutia are now beyond me."

This had a disheartening effect on the teens. It was starting to be fun, going over their ideas with Dumbledore. It was almost as if he was still with them. Harry realized soon enough, however, that even a restricted Dumbledore was better than none at all.

"That's OK, Grampa," he said, reverting to the agreed alias. "I'm sure that Remis will be able to come up with something." Then, turning to Ron he added "Perhaps your brothers could help out with this."

"Yeah," said Ron, thinking. "This would be right up their alley. If Remis gave them some general pointers, they probably could come up with all the variations we want," he agreed.

"Be sure to make clear to them the amount of secrecy that we are trying to maintain, Ron," said Hermione. After a moment she added "You had probably better remind them every day, too."

"While they are working on that I suppose that the most pressing task is preparing the chamber to receive our guests," said Harry. "Would you advise to add additional anti-apparition wards to the cell area, just to be safe?" Harry addressed this question to the portrait of Dumbledore.

"It might be a wise precaution. While the school wards are powerful, you have demonstrated that they are not insurmountable for a powerful wizard. A more localized ward should prevent any unwanted departures," concluded Dumbledore.

"Just a quick question, mate," said Ron. "If, as Hermione says, you and Dobby are the only ones able to get into the Chamber of Secrets, exactly how does that make it a good place for the rest of us?"

Harry thought about this a minute. "Well, we could just have Dobby bring you there and back when you need to get in."

Hermione started to think very deeply. She had a characteristic vacant stare that both boys were quite familiar with which was as good as a "Do Not Disturb" sign to them. Finally, she said "I think there must be a way to allow normal apparition within a defined area of an anti-apparition ward. Turning to them she explained. "Don't you remember? Last year when we took our apparition classes. We were in the great hall. Normally, you can't apparate anywhere in the castle. Dumbledore, I mean Grampa," she said, with a nod to the portrait, who nodded back, "made it possible for us to use the great hall but not leave it."

"But how does that help us?" asked Harry. "The chamber isn't so big that we can't walk anywhere we need to go."

Hermione continued. "From what I've read on apparating, you don't really take up any of the intervening space between where you were and were you went."

Harry and Ron failed to see where this was going. Fortunately, Grampa caught on. "I see," said Dumbledore. "So you intend to make a couple of launch pads which would be the only places you could apparate to and from?" he asked.

"Exactly!" said Hermione, thrilled to finally have someone in the room who could follow her thought paths. "We would need to have a spot in the castle which we could use discreetly and a spot in the chamber. If they were connected with just a thread of apparable space, any of us could easily go from one place to the other. And if you weren't familiar with both spots, you couldn't get anywhere."

"Brilliant!" said Harry, hugging Hermione. "Where would we be without you, Hermione?"

Hermione blushed but smiled brightly. "Well, you would still be in the chamber with Ron and I thumbing for a lift."

They all laughed. Harry was thrilled that Ron had gotten over his anger. He and Ron chatted about the prospects of the Cannons while Hermione asked Dumbledore for the details on how to make a site-to-site apparition zone inside the school wards. It turned out that Harry would have to do the actual spell but Hermione could guide him through it. They decided to have Dobby start the initial construction of the quarters for any prisoners they might take. They figured that they should be prepared.

Dumbledore said "Harry, when you return, we need to discuss some other training and preparations that the three of you should start. I believe that you have enough to keep you busy for today, however. I will inform Minerva that you will be about the castle today. Please stop in to see her before you make changes to the wards on her school." With that, he walked out of the frame.

Ron, who had not been in the chamber or witnessed Harry's apparition abilities asked "So, how are we going to get to Hogwarts?"

Instead of answering, Hermione walked up to Harry and took Harry's hand. With a look to Ron, he took the other hand. Harry decided not to make the trip in one go, since they were in a house warded against apparition and Hogwarts was also warded. He concentrated on the Three Broomsticks and with a turn, they were standing in front of their favorite pub.

When Hermione gave him that "Why are we here?" look, he shrugged and said "I was hungry." Without another word, they went in.

After placing their orders for lunch, they sat at their table, sipping their butter beers. Conversationally, Ron said "So, Harry. How long have you know that you could apparate through..."

"Ron!" said Hermione in a loud whisper. Looking around to see if anyone overheard she continued. "We don't want that spread around." Looking around again she continued "In fact, we should not discuss any of our business here. It won't be long before we are in a more secure location."

Ron seemed to be a little affronted by the tone of her lecture but decided that, after all, she was correct.

Harry, on the other hand was impressed by Hermione's quick assertion that they should not be as casual with their conversations as they had been in the past. He had not fully realized it before now but they were definitely beyond the scope of school sized projects and would have to be more careful. They chatted about the less interesting (to Ron and Harry at least) subject of who they thought would be the new Head Boy. Hermione politely tried to suggest some possibilities for Head Girl but her two best friends informed her that false modesty would not work with them. She was a certainty for the Head Girl position. Head Boy, on the other hand, was between Ron, Ernie Macmillan and Anthony Goldstein since Draco was now a wanted Death Eater. Ron suggested that McGonagall could make Harry Head Boy but Harry pointed out that he was neither a prefect nor an exceptional student. Both Ron and Hermione agreed and in the end also decided that Ron didn't exactly fit the mold of Head Boy either. They would just wait to see since between Ernie and Anthony, they didn't have a favorite.

After lunch, they decided to see the Chamber of Secrets first. Since Harry already had McGonagall's unknowing permission to use the chamber, they didn't need to check in with her first. Just as Harry was going to apparate the three of them in, Hermione stopped him.

"The two of us," she began, indicating herself and Ron, "might need to be able to get in and out of Hogwarts itself. If you make a pair of apparition areas between the chamber and outside the grounds, we could come and go as we please." This made sense so they started looking around for a likely spot. Hermione, naturally, thought of the perfect spot.

"I think we should make the exit in the Shrieking Shack. No one goes there and it would not be visible anyway if we apparated inside it," she explained.

"Sounds good to me," said Harry although Ron seemed less than pleased. All three were familiar with the inside of the Shrieking Shack so they apparated to the bedroom with a pop.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, followed by Ron and Hermione. Harry asked "OK, what do I do now?" He was the only one with the power to pull this off but Hermione knew the spell.

"First," she started, "you perform a Deliniatus spell to outline this as one end of the twin apparition points."

Harry performed the spell and outlined the bedroom.

"Fine," she said. "Now, apparate to the area you want to use for the other end and repeat the spell." They each grabbed a hand and off they went. In a moment, the torches lit and they were in the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing in front of the Statue of Salazar Slytherin, his likeness towering high above them. Harry turned to Ron and indicating the statue, asked him "Which foot would you consider the left one?"

Ron looked confused at the question for a moment but pointed at Slytherin's right foot, which was on their left. Harry nodded and then drew a square, about fifteen feet on a side, directly in front of the foot.

Hermione now said "Stand in the center of the square, hold your wand perfectly still and say the spell Juncturium Prioritee Perminus."

Harry did just that and with a brief flash, the square vanished. Hermione stepped in front of the statue's right foot and, with a twirl, vanished. After a moment, she reappeared with a pop.

"It seems to be OK, Harry," she said. Then she looked at him and asked "Why ask which foot Ron thought was the left?"

Harry chuckled. "I thought it would be easier to remember. Left out and right in." Hermione giggled but Ron looked as clueless as ever.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. It seemed that everyone was in on the joke but him.

"We are planning on having a pair of these apparition points going into the castle, too," he explained. "I wanted to make sure we could remember which foot to concentrate on. It's the left foot for leaving the grounds. Left out. Get it?"

Ron nodded. Then he asked "Why did you have to ask me which one I thought was the left foot? Can't you tell left from right?" he asked, smirking a little.

"Actually, Ron," said Harry with a smirk of his own, "I could see an argument for either foot being the "left" foot. One is on our left and the other is the statue's left. I know that Hermione would remember it either way and it doesn't matter to me either way so I just left it up to you."

"Brilliant," said Ron. "So where do we go with the "right" foot?" he asked.

"That will be up to McGonagall," replied Harry. "It will need to be somewhere in Hogwarts where we can apparate and disapparate without too much notice. Before we see her, however..." Harry moved to the middle of the chamber. He looked down the long hall to the snake-guarded door. It looked like about one hundred yards or so. The snake pillars were lined on either side with a walkway between them about four yards wide. The rough-hewn walls of the chamber were between five and ten yards behind them. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "What would be a good size for a cell?" he asked the pair of them.

Ron said, "I think two or two-and-a-half yards wide by three deep by three high should be OK. We plan on having them here for who knows how long so I don't think we can go much smaller."

Hermione thought a moment and looked a little troubled by what she was thinking. Finally, she said "Harry. Ron. I think we should have maybe two or three sizes of cells. One size should be just large enough for a bed and toilet. The next should be about the size you mentioned with maybe a chair and a few books. The third should be larger and furnished like a nice bedroom. We could then offer an upgrade in exchange for information or cooperation."

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron. "That's brilliant! I mean, otherwise what's in it for them to cooperate?"

Harry also thought it was a good idea. "I also think that all of the cells should be isolated against sound. We don't want them talking to each other. Then, when some start being "good', we can give them some time in groups as a reward. Loneliness is a very persuasive thing," he said, a little softer.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other and knew that he was talking from experience. How much time had he spent in his cupboard or eventually, his bedroom, all alone?

Hermione broke the silence. "So we need some small and medium cells in view of some larger, more well equipped cells. How many of each do you think for now?" she asked.

Harry thought for a moment but it was Ron who spoke first. "I think that we will need more small cells than medium ones. Then quite a few of the large ones."

Harry asked "How did you arrive at that conclusion?" he asked, conversationally.

"Well," began Ron, "the new arrivals won't want to be cooperative for a while so we will need quite a few cells for them until they wear down a bit. After they finally cooperate, we move them immediately into a medium. They should like that a lot and, since they already sold out, they will figure out soon enough that it won't hurt to go all the way and get a nice room."

Harry thought a while and decided it made sense. "So, soundproof, three sizes and high visibility?" The others nodded.

"Dobby," he said.

Within ten seconds, Dobby appeared. He seemed to be relieved to find Harry. "Harry Potter, sir," he said.

"Dobby," Harry said, "I want to start construction on some additions to this place. Are you able to do that or do we need to hire some construction workers?"

"Dobby is needing to know what his Harry Potter wants Dobby to be building but Dobby is able to be building most things, Harry Potter," said the elf in his way.

Harry walked to the snake-pillared hallway. "Dobby, I would like some rooms built on this side of the hall. I want them to be prison cells so make sure that no wizards or witches can get out of them. Can you do anti-apparition wards, Dobby?" he asked.

"Dobby can make rooms so wizards is not being able to get in or out, Harry Potter," he said.

Harry wanted to see how strong Dobby's wards would be. "Dobby," he said, "make an anti-apparition ward around me and let me try."

Dobby waved his hands in a quick motion and then nodded to Harry. Harry concentrated on the spot by the other foot of the statue. He could feel himself attempt to disapparate but it was like pushing against a wall of rubber. He could make a little headway but was then pushed back. He gave up on the attempt.

"That is very good, Dobby," said Harry. "Please remove the ward around me," he requested. Again, Dobby waved his hands and nodded.

Harry pointed to the snake door at the far end of the vault. "Dobby, please build us our prison cells starting on this side," he indicated the left side, "of the walk. Build one two yards wide by three yards deep and then two of them three yards wide by three yards deep. Repeat this to the end of the snake columns. Put in a single bed in each with a chamber pot and screen. The larger ones are to have a padded chair and small table. Anyone in the larger ones may have a daily prophet or magazine. On this side, "he pointed to the right side of the walk, "build cells between four and six yards wide by four or five yards deep. These should have a double bed with two upholstered chairs and a medium sized table. There should be a bathroom with a sink, toilet and shower. Also, a bookcase and writing desk. They may have a daily prophet or magazines as well and may request books which would have to be approved by one of us. I want all cells to be sound-proofed from each other."

Harry handed Dobby the key to Sirius's vault. "Hermione, do you have a quill and parchment on you?" he asked. Of course she did. This was Hermione, after all. Harry wrote a fairly long note on the parchment and handed it to Dobby, as well.

"Dobby, here is a note for Gringotts. Please have them follow the instructions on the note. Before you go there, determine the approximate cost for all of the cells and then remove that amount from the house vault. The note will take care of the rest. When you are done, return the keys to me," Harry said.

Dobby left for Gringotts. Harry then turned to the others. "I suppose we had better see McGonagall now so we can set up the location for the Hogwarts apparition point."

The others agreed so each took a hand and Harry apparated them to the Headmistress's waiting area, just outside her office. Harry knocked on the door.

They waited a moment before hearing a tentative "Come in?" from the office. Upon entering the room, they saw a fairly confused Headmistress McGonagall looking back at them. "How did you get into my waiting room?" she asked.

Taken by surprise by this unexpected question, Harry stammered back a "Well, we ah, just ah, what?"

"I asked how you managed to get by the gargoyle when I changed the password not fifteen minutes ago and have, as yet, told no one," she answered.

Ron started to say "We just app...," but was stopped by a hand on his arm from Hermione. Harry then realized that this mornings apparition exercise was removed from McGonagall's memory at the end of the extended obliviate spell Hermione had cast.

Harry thought for a moment and then addressed the portrait of Dumbledore. "Professor, I don't think this is going to work. You told us to ask permission from Headmistress McGonagall to do that thing we need to do," he said vaguely, "but how can we keep obliviating her and still have useful conversations?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment and then sighed. "Very well, Harry," he said. "I suggest we leave it up to Minerva on choosing between total ignorance and dangerous information." Turning to McGonagall he said "Minerva, I am aware of what they are trying to do in the school and how they arrived at your office. If you, as headmistress, wish to be aware of this as well, be warned that such information would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. We all trust you but you would be an obvious target. In the end, it is up to you to either give them blanket permission to do what they need to do and trust their judgement or take this burden on yourself and trust you are not captured or indiscreet."

McGonagall thought through the implications either way. She could give these students carte blanche to do as they pleased and remain in blissful ignorance or become a co-conspirator and risk betraying them to Voldemort. In the end, she found a compromise.

"I will only ask what you wish to do and not it's reasons. If I need further information, I will explain my reasons for asking," she said at last.

This seemed reasonable and Harry proceeded. "The minimum info version is we need a place to apparate to and from in the castle that can be maintained in secret," he said. Now, let's see if she can restrain her curiosity.

"But how?" she started and then caught herself. "Will you require assistance in performing this?" she asked.

"No, Professor," replied Hermione.

McGonagall thought for a moment and then asked "You will need a place where the three of you can perform some sort of apparition without being seen by the general population. Is that correct?" she asked. They all nodded.

After a moments contemplation, it came to her. "I believe that the most secure and isolated location that would be readily accessible by all three of you would be the Gryffindor Head's suite. The common area is small but should serve your purpose as it is password protected."

"That's perfect, Professor," said Harry, smiling. "Hermione could give us the password and we could use it whenever we needed."

Ron said "Told you so," to Hermione and the room at large.

Hermione, for her part, tried not to act pleased with herself. Everyone knew she would be Head Girl but since she was not officially notified yet, she tried to remain nonplused.

McGonagall smiled at Harry and said "That should take care of that problem, then?" she asked.

"Yes, Professor," he answered. "Thank you. Could you please tell us what the password currently is so that we can prepare the area?" he asked.

"I can do better than that," she answered. "I will accompany you to Gryffindor tower and show you how to change the password." With that, she left the office, the three students in tow.

They arrived in the Gryffindor common room and walked to the Head's door. Password protected and unused since Percy's term as Head Boy, the Head's suite allowed the Head Boy or Head Girl access to a private floo, bathroom and study area. The floo connected internally to the professor's floos to allow the Head Boy or Head Girl to communicate discretely and quickly with the school staff if necessary. Currently, the monogram on the door was a large H.B. for Head Boy. McGonagall pointed towards it and explained that it would, of course, need to be changed.

Ron noticed something funny and started laughing.

"What's so funny, mate?" asked Harry.

"Well, Harry," said Ron, still trying to stop giggling, "when this is Hermione's room, the door will have her initials on it."

Harry thought about it a moment and determined that Ron was correct. He smiled a little and looked at Hermione and McGonagall. Mcgonagall said, "Of course. That was the only reason she was chosen." She then added "Unfortunately, it will have the initials H.S. this year." This caught the students by surprise.

Hermione was the first to come up with a possibility. "Would that be Head Sorceress, Headmistress?" she asked, not really very confident in her suggestion.

McGonagall smiled. "I believe that I will let you all think about that for a while. To be honest, it should be obvious. Administratium Primus." The door opened. "That is my personal password to all doors and wards and may only be spoken with any results by myself." She walked into the hallway beyond.

Once they entered the common area, Harry and Hermione looked for a good spot to locate the apparition area while Ron looked around the rooms. Harry and Hermione were reaching a silent agreement on the area just in front of the fireplace when Ron spoke up.

"This looks different from when Percy had these rooms," he commented. "I think he only had the one bedroom, for one thing."

"That is correct, Mr. Weasley," replied McGonagall. "The change was necessary considering the number of students that will be occupying this suite."

Harry asked "Who will be in here besides Hermione?" They had already pretty much excluded Ron and himself. Neville? Dean? Seamus? None of them sounded very likely either.

McGonagall shook her head. "Miss Granger. I can see that you are very much the "Brains "of this operation," she said, disbelievingly. "The extra room is for the Head Boy. It is for you, Mr. Potter."

Harry didn't know what to say. He had no idea that this might happen. He was never even a prefect. He then remembered that neither was his dad. He stood still for a while.

Finally Ron said, "Do you want me to enervate you?" He looked at Harry with a concerned look on his face.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because you look stunned," replied Ron and broke up laughing.

Hermione groaned. "Ron!" she asked, "just how long have you been waiting for the opportunity to use that one?"

Harry turned to McGonagall. "Headmistress. Ron's right. I am stunned. Could you please explain how I was chosen to be Head Boy? My grades are average at best. I wasn't even a prefect."

McGonagall looked incredulous. "Well, let's see, Mr. Potter," she began. "First year, you get past the best defenses of several professors, including myself, to confront Quirrell and the spirit of Voldemort and prevent them from obtaining the Sorcerer's stone. Second year, you fight a fifty foot basilisk and the spirit of a young Voldemort to save Ginny Weasley. Third Year, you are able to learn a NEWT level charm to dispel a hundred dementors. Fourth year, you fight a dragon and tie Voldemort in a duel. Fifth year, you respond to an incompetent professor by teaching the course yourself and also lead five of your fellow students in a battle with a dozen Death Eaters and come out on top. Last year, you are personally instructed by Albus in something so secret that he wouldn't even share a glimmer of it with me. You then return with him severely ill, witness his murder, and then capture two Death Eaters, including Greyback, while the rest of the school witnesses you chasing the other Death Eaters out of the grounds. Who, exactly, do you think the students view as their leader, if not yourself?"

"Well, if you put it that way, it sounds pretty good," said Ron. He had always been a little jealous of Harry and now was no exception. He was also absolutely positive that McGonagall was right. Harry was their leader.

Harry then spoke. "Prof...er... Headmistress. I am very honored by your faith in me. I must inform you however, that on the day of Professor Dumbledore's funeral, I had already decided that I would not be able to afford the time to attend Hogwarts. It is only very recently that we realized that a facility of the school that you have given me permission to use would be of great benefit. We have since finally decided to attend, at least in appearance. While I have no doubt that Hermione would be able to pursue her classes, Head Girl duties and our quest without diminishing her effectiveness in any area, I can not say the same for myself. I will be forced to expend a large amount of my time and energy finishing the task that Professor Dumbledore and I started. Nothing is more important. I believe you should choose another Head Boy that can do the position justice."

Before McGonagall could respond to this, Hermione spoke up. "Professor McGonagall. Ron and I also pledged to help Harry with his task. We both understand it's importance and the consequences of failing. It is more important than our education. It is even more important than our lives. We will accompany Harry whenever he needs us, regardless of other obligations. If you wish to name another Head Girl, I would completely understand."

Minerva McGonagall had listened to both of them quite politely. She seemed to expect their reservations about becoming Head Boy and Girl. After a few moments to collect her thoughts she said "Mr. Potter. Miss Granger. I am not quite as old and addled as you might suspect. When Albus chose to keep secret from everyone in the Order the nature of his "lessons "with Mr. Potter, when he left the school for days at a time without explanation, when the secrecy that he extended to the items he wished to give to you precluded my even remembering that I ever saw them, and especially when Hermione states that she would give her life, if necessary, to complete what you have started, I take it for granted that it is more important than any school rule that I aid you to the best of my abilities." She paused for a moment to gather herself together and catch her breath. "Miss Granger. Mr. Potter. You will be Head Girl and Boy this year. If you are only able to attend one day of class, it will be enough. I will not complain." Then, with a thin smile on her face she added "Of course, I don't want you sitting in the Three Broomsticks all day, drinking butter beer. I would like to see you in class when you are able."

Harry said "I appreciate your faith in us, Headmistress. We will do our best to not let you down. Now, with all due respect; if you would show us how to set the password, we need to get back to work."

McGonagall showed them how to change the password and then left for her office. Harry drew an outline around the perimeter of the Head's common room and then apparated to the right side of the statue, in front of the left foot. He drew the corresponding square and repeated the procedure he had used for the other set of apparition points. This time Ron tested it and it seemed to work fine. Satisfied, they all returned to the chamber.

Dobby had not yet returned. Harry had no idea about the procedures necessary for magical construction but Dobby had declared that he would be able to build what they requested. Ron and Hermione had been looking in the main area of the Chamber of Secrets. Examining the area to the statue's right side, Ron said "You know, we will need some sort of office to keep whatever information we gather organized. Perhaps even some quarters for ourselves. You never know. And definitely a bathroom."

Hermione laughed good-naturedly at this. She also started thinking of ways to process their information. She turned to Ron and said "Ron, I remember my parents have a computer program that shows their appointments for any day and they can scroll forwards and backwards to see when they performed a procedure on a patient or were scheduled to do so. I think if we could get something like that to keep track of the activities of our prisoners, it would be easier to see when they cluster together."

Ron said "I think I got the last half of that. It sounds like if we could enchant a map to show where they were on any specific day, we could track their movements."

Harry added "And predict future movements." Harry beamed at his friends. "Hermione, that is a fantastic idea. Ron, the map part makes it very usable. I could look at dates all day long but if we could just move a map with dots on it, for example, forward and back through time, it would be dead easy to spot trends."

The three of them sat on one of the short, wide walls that bordered the pools to either sided of the statue of Slytherin. Hermione had some spare quills and parchment with her, of course. Harry and Ron sketched out the requirements for their office space while Hermione started to work out the details on making their maps. They decided to create a map just for Great Britain and one of either Europe or the world, depending on the scope of the Death Eater's travels. Harry felt that it was strange that planning the methods and means by which they would attempt to defeat Lord Voldemort was bringing them back together as a team. Not to mention how much fun it was working with Ron, planning the size and location of the trophy case in their offices. Harry didn't particularly understand why they needed a trophy case, but he understood that working on it together was making Ron feel like a member of the group again and it didn't matter if the final office suite would make Minister Scrimgeour green with envy.

After about an hour or so, Dobby returned. He held a few envelopes in his hand and ran to Harry when he saw him. "Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is returning from his tasks at Gringotts, sir," he said.

Harry said "That's great, Dobby. Did you get everything done that I asked?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Dobby. "Dobby is ordering the materials for the prison cells that Harry Potter wants. Dobby is being told to come back in two days by the construction wizards and then Dobby is bringing everything here and Dobby is building the cells, Harry Potter." The elf stopped to catch his breath. "Dobby is also giving Harry Potter's note to the goblins at Gringotts, sir. They is saying that they is doing what Harry Potter is asking." At this point, Dobby reached into his socks and pulled out three keys. He handed them with the envelopes to Harry.

"Thank you, Dobby," said Harry. "Take a break and then Ron will show you the plans for the office we would like down here." If Dobby was displeased with having even more construction to finish, it did not show. He rushed over to Ron and sat next to him. Harry laughed and read the notes. After a few moments he went to Hermione and handed her an envelope and a key. He then went to Ron and did the same.

Ron looked at the key and envelope and asked "What are these for?" He did not open the envelope. Hermione, on the other hand, had already opened it and read it.

"Harry," she began, "I thought we were going to discuss this." She didn't seem mad, just a little disgruntled.

"I told you that I would be financing this expedition," answered Harry. "That money is for you to use for any expenses that come up when I am not around." He looked from Hermione to Ron and added "I will not be doing any checking on your purchases. Buy whatever you need and if your vault runs out, let me know and I will fill it up again." He hoped he looked like he was through discussing the subject. Then he remembered. "By the way, Dobby is able to get money for you if you give him your key and a note."

They both would have liked to argue with him but it made total sense. There could very well be times when they needed money and Harry might not be around. However, fifty-thousand galleons was a very large amount of money and both of them would be able to sleep better when they could give the keys back to Harry.

Eventually, Ron and Harry had finished the initial design and given it to Dobby. Hermione had come up with the spell sequence necessary to make her maps and only needed the large parchment. She also instructed Dobby to purchase a long list of potion ingredients that they might need. They were about ready to leave for Grimmauld Place when Ron realized something.

"Harry. Hermione," he said, dramatically. "We forgot the most important thing." They looked at him expectantly. He sighed. "What are we going to call this place? We can't very well go around calling it the Chamber of Secrets. Everyone will know where it is. Sorta."

Hermione laughed. Harry nodded in agreement. In the back of his mind he had heard a name that would apply. He tried to think of it and then declared "Let's call it The Fortress of Solitude."

"The Fortress of Solitude?" asked Ron.

"It's perfect," said Hermione. "No one would have a clue where it was. If they ever heard of it, they would look at the north pole."

"It's too bad we aren't Slytherins," said Harry. "We would have an "S "on our chests." He and Hermione laughed some more. Ron was clueless.

"I'll explain tonight, Ron," said Hermione.

Ron was clueless but he hadn't fallen off the turnip truck yesterday. Looking forward to a lengthy "explanation', Ron agreed to the name.

Harry took each by the hand and said "Let's go home." With a pop, they were gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Germination of a Birthday Idea

June 23, 1997

After the initial flurry of activity, decisions and construction during and just after they left Hogwarts, the tempo slowed to a more sustainable pace. Dobby had the cells and offices built in modular form and brought and assembled the individual pieces by the following Saturday. Remus had been consulted about modifying the Marauder's Map to allow viewing a larger area, allow viewing an area relative to the map and allow identifying Death Eaters within the map's area of coverage. He admitted that James and Sirius were more involved in the creation of the map than he was but felt that, with the twin's help, they should be able to achieve some of the objectives either on the current map or on a new one. Harry, Ron and Hermione spent two days with Harry acting as tour guide as the three of them examined the memories that Harry and Dumbledore had viewed in his pensieve. He had to translate a lot of the parselmouth but it did open up a lot more courses of action. The three of them were now on equal footing with their information. After that, Hermione spent some time working on making her Data Maps as she was calling them. She was attempting to allow the recording and display of any or all Death Eater movements through time to be able to search for any patterns. Ron was determining the specific information that would be most useful to obtain and the best means of obtaining it.

Harry was consulting with Dumbledore's portrait on more personal matters. It had started on the day after the Fortress of Solitude was christened.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry had called, hesitantly into the empty frame setting on his dresser. He wasn't sure of the protocol when dealing with empty frames. Perhaps addressing it now was the equivalent of having visitors knocking on the door when you were taking a shower.

After a moment, Dumbledore appeared. "Please give me a moment, Harry," he said and with a nod from Harry, he was gone again. Harry waited for his return, using the time to read some of the notebook that Dumbledore had left him. He found that it contained little snippets of information about places that Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort had or may have visited, items he had shown interest in, possible possessions of Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. There was also a list of spells and potions that might or had been useful in finding and destroying horcruxes. Harry only had time for a brief flip through the notebook before Dumbledore reappeared.

"Good morning, Harry," said Dumbledore, as he stepped back into his frame. "To what do I owe this very great pleasure?" he asked. He pulled up the chair in his portrait and sat down.

"Well, sir," began Harry. "I wanted to fill you in on what we were doing and to ask a few questions, if that would be all right, sir."

"Of course, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Before you start, could you please do me a small favor?" he asked.

"Of course, sir," replied Harry. He wondered what he could do for a painting.

"Call me Grampa," said Dumbledore.

"Oh, I forgot!" said Harry. They had agreed to call him Grampa in case they were overheard discussing their conversations with him. They all thought it a good idea to disguise the fact that they could communicate with the portrait of Dumbledore.

After a few seconds of silence, Harry asked "Er, what was the favor, Grampa?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Just that, Harry. You were calling me "Professor "and "sir" and all and I wanted to remind you to call me "Grampa" as we agreed."

"OK, Grampa," said Harry. "Well, we have been fairly busy since we last talked." Harry described the cells and their reasons behind the three varieties, their plans for new maps and his concerns about Voldemort tracking his prisoners through their dark marks.

Dumbledore thought for a moment and then said "I think you might have a good idea on the cells, although in this form I am not sure. I also like the visual representation of travels of the Death Eaters on the maps. The dark mark is a difficult problem to be sure. If Dobby could know you were in Hogwarts but not find your location, I feel the same would hold true on the dark marks. I think that Voldemort would know you had them and where, just not the precise location. This would not make the Chamber of Secrets any worse a hiding place but would make the school less safe." He thought for a moment longer. Finally, and somewhat reluctantly, he said "I am afraid you might have to remove the mark and put it somewhere safe and far away."

"How can I remove the mark?" Harry asked. "I thought that it was a magical mark that could not be removed. Otherwise, those supporters of his who wanted to blend in would have done so after his first fall."

"That is true, Harry," said Dumbledore. "The dark mark can not be removed." He paused for just a fraction of a second and then continued. "The arm that it is on, however, can be removed."

Harry took about two seconds to register what Dumbledore had said and then his eyes opened wide. "You mean I have to cut off their arms?" he exclaimed. This was something he was pretty sure he couldn't do.

"Yes, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "That is the only way. You would then have to find a secure place to store them so that they could be reattached later, if possible."

"Reattached?" asked Harry. "I didn't know you could do that, si...Grampa." It wouldn't be quite so bad if he wasn't permanently maiming someone.

"I am sure it is possible," replied Dumbledore. "You will need to consult with Poppy. She would know the spell to place the arms and stump in stasis. That way, you could keep the prisoner and loose the mark without as much guilt." He then added with a wink "It might also encourage some of them to cooperate."

"Thank you, Grampa," said Harry. "I was worried about being tracked down by my prisoners. I do have a few other questions for you," he offered.

"Fire away, Harry," replied Dumbledore.

"You were talking about my restricting my abilities except when I was totally confident or totally ignorant. Could you explain that a little more, please?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment. "This is a difficult subject best pursued with analogies, at least at first," said Dumbledore. "First, have you ever noticed that purebred dogs, although great in a specific discipline, seldom have a broad base of highly developed skills? For example, sheepdogs can herd animals with relative ease but are terrible hunting dogs."

Harry nodded. He was all too familiar with his Aunt Marge's little brainless purebred ankle-biters.

Dumbledore continued. "The truly exceptional dog is usually the mutt; the half-breed or worse. It can't be predicted but the mixture of several breeds can sometimes produce the most outstanding dog. Now, don't take the analogy personally but you seem to be similar to that rare mutt. Your father was a very powerful and talented pureblood wizard but your mother was muggleborn. Her wizard blood line most probably consisted of several blood lines from both sides of her family coming together to produce her. When she married your father and produced you, the stars lined up and you became something with greater potential than either of them."

Harry started to protest that he was not greater than either of his parents when Dumbledore stopped him.

"It is true, Harry," he stated. "You have not yet mentally accepted your magical presence but it was evident during the dementor attack at the lake. I must admit that until I found out it was you who drove away a hundred dementors, I was somewhat afraid that Voldemort had somehow done it. I knew I didn't and at the time, he was the only other wizard I knew of capable of such a feat."

Harry had to interrupt. "Grampa!" he shouted, almost laughing. "I can barely do some of the spells and charms we are doing now. If I had such power, it should be easy for me, shouldn't it?" he asked.

"As I mentioned before," began Dumbledore, "you have yet to allow yourself to perform at your true abilities. You are like a fire hose with some kinks in it, a pipe with a clog or a river with a dam. We must work on your belief in yourself before you will allow yourself to be the wizard you are meant to be. So far, as we have said, you only allow yourself full access to magic when you don't know any better."

Harry thought about this for a while. Hermione always said he was a great wizard. He had always put it down to being nice. "Is there anything I can do to work on this, Grampa?" he asked.

"I would suggest going to the Burrow and finding a nice quiet spot and reducto the side of a hill until you can let the magic flow uninhibited through you," he answered. "There is more. I mentioned using a hill because you would have no worries about damaging dirt. When you are doing your reductos at full power, try to extend the spell. Visualize it digging into the hill for longer than a short blast. Don't choke off the magic until it drains out of you. This will make your spells more long lasting."

Harry said "I thought spells like reducto were supposed to be short and quick. Even Remus taught them to be used that way."

"It is true that they are most effective for most wizards as a short burst. That is because the reducto spell takes a fairly large amount of magic to produce. It then takes a second or two to replenish. In your case, you should be able to hold it for a few seconds at least since you have a larger conduit to recharge your magic. That is also why your patronus lasted long enough to save you."

"You also mentioned love and life can improve magic. How does that work?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore laughed again. "One thing at a time, Harry. When your magical pipes are clog free, when your hose is straight and your river is unfettered, we will add love and life to the mix. When that happens, Tom had better watch out."

"Thanks, Grampa," said Harry. "I have some shopping to do and then I will take your advice and visit the Burrow and practice. Is reducto the hardest spell to cast or something? You suggested it to practice so I was wondering."

"I suggested it because it takes a fair amount of power to produce and it's effects are easy to visualize and quantify. You will know if it is getting more powerful and you will see clearly how long it lasts. Other similar spells would work just as well. Feel free to try them," said Dumbledore.

With that, Harry took his leave and flooed the Burrow to ask Molly if he could stop by later. She said she and Ginny were there and would be glad to see him any time. Harry thought that Ginny may not have mentioned her breakup with Harry to Molly. He would wait until he got there and just wing it.

He flooed to the Leaky Caldron and ate brunch. He didn't want to bother Dobby after all his hard work on their new offices. After that he set off down Diagon Alley towards Weasley Wizard Wheezes and decided to browse a few shops that looked interesting on the way.

Serendipity had always served Harry Potter well and now was no exception. He had not even considered what he might get anyone for their birthday and had merely been shopping in Diagon Alley when he came across two perfect gifts in a magical curiosity shop. He had stopped in to browse the various oddities in case something of use in his quest would be available. Unfortunately, nothing in the category of Dark Lord destruction aids could be found. He did, however, come across not one, but two items that would make the perfect birthday presents for two very important women in his life. The first was a very expensive and very rare item consisting of a necklace and a case. It was a multi-destination, rechargeable portkey. According to the enclosed instructions, you could use the provided spell to enchant up to ten objects of your choice to be targets. The person wearing the necklace (as well as anyone touching the necklace or chain) would be able to portkey to any of those objects by merely saying a simple spell followed by the name given each object at the time of enchantment. When you wished to return home, you would just utter the return spell and you would appear next to the case. As long as you remembered to leave the case home, you could visit up to ten different locations anytime you wished. The only limitation was it was only good for two trips before it had to be recharged. This would be accomplished by slowly absorbing magical power from the wearer. A normal witch or wizard would be able to use it about once a day at most. Used less frequently, you would be able to jump to a target and back with the built up charge. The main advantage of this over an ordinary portkey was that it could find moving targets, such as people. As long as they carried the target object, the portkey would find them. Harry envisioned a very happy Molly Weasley and seven very annoyed children. She was their mother, however. She had also taken on the job of surrogate mother for Harry from almost the moment they met. She had even declared him as good as a son during a heated argument. As her children were spreading out over the world, and remembering her bogart, he did not hesitate at the 9000 galleon price. He would later purchase rings for the boys and a necklace for Ginny (He did not wish to give her a ring just yet, even for non-romantic reasons).

The other present was for Hermione, who would turn eighteen in September. The one constant about Hermione was the excessive amount of books that she always seemed to be carrying around with her. This had reached its peak during their third year at Hogwarts since she was, secretly, using a time turner to attend many more classes than humanly possible. Although the size of her book bag decreased somewhat after that year, it was still at least twice as big as anything that either Harry or Ron ever considered lugging around. With their current situation, she was always trying to research some subject or other, and since she was usually doing so at the request of Harry, he felt that the least he could do was aid in the transportation of her materials. He had found an enchanted book carrier that could, according to the card, carry up to 250 books while not gaining the corresponding weight. It was quite beautiful in it's own right, despite its usefulness. It looked just like a small replica of a glass-doored book case. When the door was opened, an opening large enough for most books was exposed that had a shelf behind it. You merely placed your book on the shelf and it was safely stored for future use. A sliding lever on the bottom let you view the entire shelf. It was perfect for the brilliant witch.

It was for this reason that Harry found himself spending more than the usual 10 or so galleons on his best female friend. He normally liked to keep his presents in that range so that his other best friend, Ron, would not feel embarrassed. (For the same reason, he vowed to take the price of Mrs. Weasley's portkey necklace to his grave.) By the time he bargained the owner of the shop down to 285 galleons plus a personalized autograph (he was, after all, Harry Potter) he felt that it was money well spent and justified as a legitimate business expense. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have the time, knowledge or desire to properly stock his friend's present. He had just thought he would let her do it on her own when he thought of Dobby. Dobby would probably love to help him with a present for Hermione and would probably have the elvish ability to just somehow know what books Hermione didn't already have and would probably need.

"Dobby?" Harry called. He never had understood how the elf seemed to hear him calling.

"Yes, Harry Potter, Sir. What can Dobby do for, Harry Potter?" came the ecstatic elf a moment later.

Harry smiled at the elf. Dobby had helped them quite a bit in many varied situations, had aided him in preparing his "Fortress of Solitude" as he jokingly referred to the quarters in the Chamber of Secrets, and had also performed the most mundane tasks of the lowest servant without any decrease in his enthusiasm.

"I would like you to help me with Hermione's birthday present, please, Dobby," began Harry.

Dobby just about exploded from joy. "Harry Potter wants Dobbys' help with a present for his great friend? Dobby is happy to help as much as he can," beamed the elf, his eyes glistening with tears. "What can Dobby do to help?" he asked.

"I bought her a special box to hold her books and I want you to help fill it up for me," stated Harry. He showed Dobby the box and demonstrated to him how it worked. "I want you to find out, without Hermione knowing, what books she already has that might help us and then buy an assortment of charms, potions, history, transfiguration, defense and any other useful books until the box is mostly full," said Harry. "Do you understand?"

"Dobby understands, Harry Potter," squealed the elf with delight. "Dobby knows what books Harry Potter's Miss Granger has been reading and will find others that will help. Dobby will, if Harry Potter allows, also make Harry Potter's present better with elf magic." Dobby looked anxiously at Harry.

Not seeing any harm in letting Dobby perform some house-elf magic on the box, Harry agreed.

"Ok, Dobby. You can use the same vault as the house uses to pay for anything you might find," began Harry. "Try to find a good selection. Remember, this is a surprise for Hermione so don't spread it around what you are doing."

"Dobby will do a good job, Harry Potter," beamed the elf. With that he vanished and Harry continued with his shopping.

As he headed towards Weasley Wizard Wheezes, he noticed a small jewelry shop. The owner was Jim Sarus, a small wizard with out of date black robes that had a distinct scent of mustiness about them. He looked up at Harry through rather thick horn-rimmed glasses. "Can I help you, young man?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Harry. "I would like to see some rings."

"Ah, yes," said the old man. "June is usually a popular month to get engaged." He smiled as he walked towards some diamond rings in an old display case.

"I'm not getting engaged!" exclaimed Harry. "I just need some rings for some brothers and a necklace for their sister." Harry was not yet seventeen and had no intention of giving anyone an engagement ring for quite some time.

"Oh, my mistake, my mistake," said the aged jeweler. "Men's rings, then," he said as he moved to a different case. "I assume you want them to match?" he asked. Harry nodded. "Monogrammed, too?" he continued. Again, Harry nodded. "Self sizing as well?" he asked. Harry was getting tired of nodding. If the old man knew what he wanted, he should just get on with it.

The wizard started to reach for a tray on the bottom shelf but stopped and asked "What sort of a price range are we looking at?"

Harry wasn't sure and said "I'm not sure. I've never bought much jewelry before. I want them to look good and wear well. I will be buying six rings and one necklace so that might help limit the selection."

"It might," agreed the owner. "Let's see. A set of six rings and a matching necklace." He looked at Harry. "Should these be in the style of some other piece of jewelry or do they only need to match each other?"

Harry hesitated. Would it be in bad taste to show a jeweler a necklace you purchased somewhere else? Finally he pulled out the case with the portkey necklace and handed it to the old wizard.

"Haven't seen one of these in a while," he said. "Well, if you can afford a portkey necklace, you can afford the rings to go with it. I can make a set of six matching gold and platinum rings and a gold, platinum and diamond necklace for an even thousand galleons. That would be one hundred for each ring and four hundred for the necklace." He decided to itemize for the boy to show that the price was not out of line.

Harry considered. Even though these would be distributed among her children, this was still part of her gift. He decided the time to be frugal ended in the last shop. "That will be fine," he said, finally. He gave the man the list of monograms and a Gringotts bank draft. With an agreement to return in two weeks, he took his receipt and left.

With two presents purchased month's in advance, he had a glimmer of an idea. It would take time, though so he went on to the twin's store.

As he walked, he noticed some effect of Voldemort's return. Several shops, including a large one next to Weasley Wizard Wheezes were closed and for sale. A sign of the times, he acknowledged.

When he reached Fred and George's shop, he went right in and looked around. They still seemed to have plenty of business. The variety of the items impressed him. This was in itself impressive since he was well aware of Fred and George's abilities. The Defense items had moved from the back room to take up a fair potion of the main floor. Apparently, even though Dumbledore was normally hundreds of miles away at Hogwarts, his death made wizards in London feel less safe. Clothing that would turn moderate spells or disguise the wearer was the most common sort of protection but there seemed to be some new amulets that would, for a limited time, produce the illusion that you were about three feet to your left. Assuming the attacker was a good shot, this could be very useful.

When Harry finally found Fred, surrounded by customers, he was convinced that he had made a very wise investment in helping them with their start-up funds.

"Hello, Harry," shouted Fred, over the heads of his customers. All eyes turned to Harry. He never would get used to this, he thought. "Just give me a minute and George and I will meet you in back." With that, he dealt with the customers at hand and called for two of their new assistants to help.

Harry went to the relative calm of the back room and found Lee Jordon packing boxes for shipment. "Hello, Lee," he said. "Business looks great."

Lee Jordon stopped what he was doing for a moment and greeted Harry. "Harry!" he cried. "Welcome to Nuthouse Central." He finished the box he was working on and then stopped to chat. "I was hoping for a little time off before starting in the real world but Fred and George drafted me right after I stepped off the train."

Harry looked at the box. It was going to Bristol. "Mail order doing OK, I see," stated Harry.

"Fair but only current customer's seem to know about us. Local shipments, mainly. I think that we could do Europe if we could afford the adverts to get established. It's sort of a chicken and egg thing. We could make a ton of galleons if everyone heard of us but you need to buy space in several papers and magazines for months to become a household name. Then we would need a place to store merchandise and pack the boxes. We plan on getting there eventually, though."

Fred and George came in and slapped Harry on the back. "Harry!" said George.

"Congratulations!" said Fred. Harry wondered what he supposedly did or was going to do now.

"What for?" he asked.

"What for? he asks," said George.

"You captured a Death Eater and Fenrir Greyback, idiot," said Fred.

"That bastard has been ruining lives for forty years and to most of us was only slightly down the list from You-Know-Who on wizards we wanted out of circulation," said George.

"Not to mention that he damn near killed our brother," said Fred.

"We didn't realize that it was you who caught him until we read about it, after Dumbledore's funeral," said George.

Harry hadn't given it much thought, given the circumstances but removing a major menace like Greyback was one of the positive highlights of an otherwise terrible night. He decided to move on to the reason for the visit. "How is the special project coming along?" he asked. He didn't know if Lee had been involved and wanted the number who knew anything about his business to be kept at a minimum.

"Step into our office and we'll chat about that," said Fred. Apparently, they had been uncharacteristically discreet and chose to keep it that way.

After they closed the door, George said "We were able to enchant a store bought map of Hogsmeade into showing the people, just like the Marauder's Map."

Fred said "With Remus' help, we added the known tunnels to the map."

George said "We haven't been able to make a mobile map yet but we still have hopes."

Fred said "As to detecting Death Eaters or displaying them in red or something, no luck."

George said "We don't have much info on that mark. We need a cooperative Death Eater to work out the bugs and don't seem to have one."

Harry said "I was just talking to someone about that and may have something for you later." He looked at the map of Hogsmeade. It was a much larger area than Hogwarts and the names were much too small to read. His confused look inspired the twins to look at each other and then him. In their usual back and forth manner, they showed him the zoom feature of the map so that he could look at a detailed section of the town enlarged enough to read the names.

"This is great, guys," said Harry. "When I have that cooperative Death Eater, we'll make these even better." He stood up. He had decided to pursue a spur of the moment idea. "I have to go. I will be at the Burrow off and on for the next few weeks so we'll probably be seeing each other."

They said their goodbyes and Harry headed down to the offices of the Quibbler. It was a strangely normal looking business for a most decidedly strange publication. The receptionist was a very old witch who could have just walked off the set of Macbeth. Crooked nose: check. Wart on chin: check. Frayed, unkempt dirty white hair: check. She looked up at Harry and asked in a nice, grandmotherly voice, "Can I help you, young man?"

"Hello," said Harry. "My name is Harry Potter and I would like to speak to Mr. Lovegood, if that would be possible," he asked.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, still nicely.

Didn't she know who he was? He realized what he had thought and felt ashamed. He hated people like that. Then again, he knew that if he went up to the Daily Prophet, they wouldn't be asking him to make an appointment. The editor and publisher would probably apparate in their rush to greet him. "No, I'm afraid I don't," he replied. "I can make one if I have to," he added.

The old witch got up. "Let me see if he's busy," she said. "What was the name again?" she asked.

"Harry Potter," he replied. He was starting to like this witch.

She stepped into the office behind her. It took a while. She looked like she could have gone to school with Dumbledore's mother.

After a moment, the door opened and the witch started back to her desk. She was passed by Linus Lovegood. His looks reminded Harry of Luna; mostly normal but a touch of odd not quite submerged.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. It's nice to meet you at last."

"Hello, Mr. Lovegood," said Harry. "It's nice to meet you as well. Luna has told me so much about your travels that I am happy to meet the man behind the Quibbler."

"Happy to oblige since your interview a couple of years ago financed one of our trips," replied Lovegood. "What brings you into my office today?" he asked.

"Well, I have a secret plan to do something nice for some of my friends on my birthday and I have no idea how to proceed with a part of it," said Harry. He had to think faster than normal because this part of his plan was conceived just a little while ago. "You are in the publishing business so I naturally thought of you."

"I am a very small part of the publishing business. I would suspect that the Daily Prophet would be able and more than happy to help you with anything you wanted," he said.

"That is true, I suppose," agreed Harry, "but I would prefer to work with an organization that has helped me in the past and with people I am more likely to like and trust."

"Call me Linus, Harry," said Mr. Lovegood.

Harry described the present he had in mind for the twins and agreed to let Mr. Lovegood make all the arrangements. When the final bill was known, he would send Luna to collect the galleons needed. She had been given the address to Grimmauld Place as one of Harry's trusted friends.

When they were finished, Linus turned to Harry and said "I would like to ask a favor in return for this extra work you have given me."

Harry was planning on giving Mr. Lovegood a commission to cover his time but was willing to work with the man. "What can I do for you, Linus?" he asked.

"I would like you to give me an interview," he said.

Harry was a little taken aback. He would have expected this from the Daily Prophet. They wanted to know everything that he and Dumbledore had been doing once they started believing them again. Was Linus Lovegood cut from the same cloth?

His reservations seemed to show on his face. "I don't want any secrets, Harry," he assured him. "I want to know a little about your feelings and thoughts on Professor Dumbledore's life and what his passing means to you. Perhaps some anecdotes that illustrate the man behind the legend. I think we both agree he has had enough written about his major accomplishments. Luna has told me that the two of you seemed more like a grandfather and grandchild than headmaster and student. Just tell me what you want people to remember about Albus Dumbledore as you knew him."

Harry sat for a second and then asked "Linus. I know this is a loaded question to ask a newsman but can I trust you to keep a secret?" He wasn't sure if the idea he had in mind would work but he thought it was worth a shot.

"I promise, Harry," said Lovegood, "that I will not reveal anything you don't want people to know."

With that, Harry excused himself for a few minutes and apparated back to his room in Grimmauld Place. He walked up to the portrait on his dresser and said "Grandpa. I don't know if you ever met Luna's father but he is doing me a great service and has offered a unique opportunity. How would you like to get to work on your own obituary? You know, the version where you aren't just short of Merlin."

Dumbledore thought about this for a moment. "You mean I can just be the old codger who used to get lemon drops stuck in his beard? That sort of honest appraisal of my life?" He smiled at the idea.

"That's the one. Mr. Lovegood said that he wouldn't print anything we object to or accidentally let slip. I think it might be interesting," finished Harry.

"So do I, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "We will have to come up with a cover story so people don't know you have your own portrait of me. I suppose we can just do the old stand-by of "Dumbledore once told me" kind of story."

Harry agreed and in a few seconds they were back with Linus Lovegood.

"Mr. Linus Lovegood, please meet the portrait of Albus Dumbledore," said Harry.

Dumbledore waved from the small frame and Linus waved back. This was going to be an interesting day, even by Quibbler standards.

After about an hour or so of stories, both funny and poignant, raucous and serious, Linus and Albus had started discussing myths and legends known to but a few wizards. The stories became harder to follow and Harry found himself looking at his watch. It was approaching evening and Harry had a few errands left to do before Gringotts closed. He excused himself for the time being from the two new friends and headed down to the wizard's bank.

When he entered the bank, he went to the nearest free teller.

"Hello, sir," he said. The goblin looked up. "My name is Harry Potter and I would like to speak to a manager, if I could, please."

The goblin looked a little surprised for a moment but managed to get out "Please wait here, sir," before leaving to find a boss. After a few minutes he returned with an important looking goblin.

"My name is Ragnok," he said as he shook Harry's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter."

"Pleased to meet you too, sir," replied Harry. "Bill Weasley has spoken very highly of you."

Ragnok seemed surprised by this for just a second. A concerned look appeared on his face as he asked "And how is young Mr. Weasley doing with his recovery?"

"His scars are a little better and they don't think he will be a real werewolf but it is still a terrible thing to have happen, just before your wedding," Harry summarized. "In fact, Bill is one of the reasons I came here today."

They went to Ragnok's office and discussed the details of Harry's plan to help out Bill and Fleur. Ragnok, to Harrys surprise, agreed that something should be done to help out and offered to have Gringotts finance half of Harry's planned surprise.

With arrangements written down and signed, Harry went back to the tellers to have the inter-vault transfers taken care of and to get some spending money.

It was starting to get dark when Harry went back to the Quibbler to pick up Dumbledore. He and Linus had hit it off very well and both agreed that they wish they had spent some time together while Dumbledore was still alive. With a promise to bring Dumbledore back again sometime, Harry and the portrait apparated back to Harry's room.

Harry had dinner with Ron and Hermione at Grimmauld Place. Dobby, as usual, prepared an excellent dinner which had them all in a good mood to discuss their days activities.

Hermione went first. "Well, I am not completely satisfied with the DataMaps yet, but I have a good start on them. They can change to show any day's information but take about two seconds to switch to the next day."

"What's so bad about that?" asked Ron. "Two seconds is pretty fast, if you ask me."

"It isn't bad if we are only looking for patterns over a week or so but if we want to watch, say, a month's worth of movements, it takes a whole minute," she said. "As we get more and more people to watch, it would just slow us down to a crawl. I am hoping for about two or three transitions per second."

Ron didn't seem convinced that it was a problem but stated his conclusions. "When we get some Death Eaters, we will first and foremost, want to find out exactly where they have been and when. We will also need to know who was there when they were as well as who they took orders from. If we can get an accurate hierarchy of the group, we can start disrupting their chain of command more effectively. We also need to know what sort of supplies they are using and where they are making their purchases. This could lead to our being able to plant bogus potion ingredients or some other means of gumming up their plans."

"If we can make their lives difficult, so much the better but our immediate goal is to capture and interrogate as many Death Eaters as possible and use that information to find the remaining horcruxes."

Hermione added "That reminds me, Harry. You mentioned something about Death Eaters being able to track each other through their marks. Have you thought of a solution to that problem?"

Harry looked down for a second before saying "Well, Grampa did have a solution. I need to talk to Madame Pomfrey first."

Hermione and Ron looked at each other. Hermione asked "What would Madame Pomfrey know about shielding magical marks?"

"Nothing," said Harry. "She would know about removing their arms so tha..."

"Harry!" shouted Hermione. "You can not be serious!" Even Ron looked shocked. "How can you even consider treating our prisoners that way?" she asked in disgust.

Harry was expecting this. "Dumbledore said it is the only way to ensure they aren't tracked."

Ron started to see the strategic benefit of keeping their prisoners secret. It didn't make him feel any better about it, though.

"He also said that if we do it right, we can reattach the arms later, if we want to," he finished.

"Well, that wouldn't be so bad, then," said Ron. Hermione glared at him. "Hermione, this is all good. We can use the arms for leverage with the prisoners, too. This isn't a game. We need all the advantages we can get."

"And we need at least one cooperative Death Eater or his arm to finish the maps the twins are working on," said Harry. He pulled out the map of Hogsmeade. Very tiny dots worked their way through the village. Harry showed them how to zoom in on any spot they chose. "They think they can have Death Eaters appear in a different color and set off an alarm but they need a dark mark to work with."

"Well, that should be our next step, then," said Ron. "There have to be at least a few Death Eaters in Hogsmeade so once we have the map, we can get them. They will lead us to others and so on." He seemed to see it unfolding before him.

"How, exactly, are we going to get them to tell us what they know?" asked Hermione. "And how will we be able to trust them, anyway?"

"That is where you come in," said Harry. "I assume Dobby had filled our potions cupboard?" he asked.

"Yes, he has," said Hermione. "I assume you want some veritaserum?"

"Yes, I do," he replied.

"I also assume you want me to make it?" she asked.

"Of course," replied Harry.

"Well, I had better start it tomorrow," she said. "It takes about a month to finish."

"That will be fine. Now that the cells are done, we should go and talk to Pomfrey tomorrow. I want to find our first volunteer," said Harry.

With the immediate plans either complete or awaiting further information, they settled down for the rest of the evening. Ron read a quidditch magazine while Harry and Hermione discussed some of the interesting items in the Daily Prophet. After about an hour or so, Ron came over and hinted broadly that perhaps a little quality time alone with his girl was in order and Harry obliged and went up to his room. He dressed for bed and, saying goodnight to Grampa, settled in with Dumbledore's notebook.

It was about twenty minutes later that Harry heard first one set of footsteps and a door closing and then, five minutes or so later, another set of footsteps and another door closing. "That was quick," he thought. At least it was still different doors closing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - Suspicions

June 28th, 1997 - Saturday Morning

Thooomb! Pop! Thooomb! Pop! Thooomb! One after another, the dirt flew up as Harry hit the embankment with a reductor curse. He thought they were getting better but it might just be the dirt was nice and loose by now. Ginny was practicing with him but her little divots were nothing compared to Harry's craters. Harry had been doing the exercises that Dumbledore had suggested for a few days now. Ginny had decided to accompany him. They would eat breakfast at the Burrow, sometimes with Ron or Hermione and sometimes without. Then the two of them would spend an hour or so blasting some poor hillside to crumbs while chatting a little. Ron was right. Ginny had not given up on Harry quite as easily as he had imagined.

"So how do you do that again?" asked Ginny. She didn't like having such a big difference between Harry's huge blasts and her little pops.

"You have to imagine what you want the result to look like and then let the magic flow without shutting it down at the end," replied Harry. That was what Dumbledore had said. It seemed to work for Harry but not Ginny. Harry's holes were being dug with sustained blasts of up to two seconds. Ginny's impacted on the surface and stopped.

Pop! Pop! "It's no use," she said. "I used to think I was doing OK but now..." She trailed off.

"You do just fine, Ginny," Harry said. He didn't want her to get discouraged. "Just keep at it. I'm sure you will get stronger with time."

"Sure, that's what you say. What about your wandless magic?" she asked. "I don't see that getting better." He had tried to produce some wind per Dumbledore's instructions but had only produced a slight breeze for a few seconds. Not exactly the typhoon he had been imagining.

"I don't see how I can be expected to be able to do it at all," he said. "Dumbledore was able to use it move the furniture or create a few hundred sleeping bags. I can't even get air to move more than blowing through a straw."

Ginny thought for a moment and then said "Perhaps that is your problem. You can't really imagine wind. Only the effects of wind are visible. The sleeping bags could be imagined directly."

She thought about it and tried to imagine something physical but light. "Snowflakes!" she said. Try to think of Snowflakes!"

He though of snowflakes with as much concentration as he could and did the hand motion as Dumbledore instructed. He thought he saw a flake or two but they disappeared so quickly he wasn't sure.

Ginny laughed. "Well, that worked well," she said, sarcastically. It was a trait she had developed to defend herself from six brothers. Harry didn't really care for the tone at times but understood the cause.

"OK, you come up with something for me to do, then," he said.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said as she pulled him down into the grass.

Harry didn't really want to snog right now but perhaps a break with a pretty girl would be a good way to relax. After a few minutes of serious kissing, they went into a period of just holding each other and brushing their lips together occasionally. This gave Harry time to think. "So what do you think would be the best way to imagine something like wind or snow?"

They kissed a little as Ginny thought about it. "Perhaps you should think about traveling with the wind or snow and that might work better. You might be able to mentally add your weight into the vision if you thought you were going with the wind"

Harry started to stand but Ginny pulled him back. She wasn't through yet. "Just a little more," she pouted, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Just one more, Ginny," he said, "and then I have to get to work." He gave her one last kiss and stood up. She followed.

"Well, here goes," he said as he imagined himself as the wind traveling towards the hill. At first nothing happened and then a small breeze came up and with his encouragement, it increases to a moderate gust, waving the small brush and grass wave violently. He wasn't sure it wasn't just a real gust so he stopped abruptly and the grass and bushes stopped immediately.

Ginny jumped and gave him a kiss and said "I knew you could do it."

"Thanks, Hermi..Ginny," he said. "It was just a matter of the way I thought about it. You were right."

Ginny didn't say anything for a moment and didn't know if she should. Harry hadn't commented on his verbal gaffe and didn't seem embarrassed about it. Perhaps she should let it go. No, wait. This is something she needed to know and they were alone.

"Harry?" she asked. "Why did you almost say Hermione instead of my name?" She tried to sound curious rather than jealous.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I think that I am used to having it be Hermione when a pretty girl makes a brilliant suggestion. I'll have to get used to having two of you around."

Harry went back to making wind and Ginny watched. She was thinking about what he had said. He had inadvertently made another mistake with his girl by mentioning that another girl with whom he spent a great deal of time was pretty. This, of course, led her down other paths of thought that she would rather not travel. She had seen Hermione grow from a second year to almost a seventh. At no time was she one of the most beautiful girls in the castle. Well, maybe during the Yule Ball but that took her hours to prepare herself and she didn't seem to want to spend that amount of time again. No, she was definitely ordinary leaning towards plain. Ginny spent some time on her looks and considered herself, if not the most beautiful girl around, at least fairly good-looking. Harry seemed to see her differently, though.

Harry had not given it a second thought and continued his practice.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Capture

July 2, 1997 - Tuesday

"Dobby," said Harry. He thought of a way to catch a Death Eater, or at least someone with the mark and needed the elf.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby when he arrived a second later. Using Harry's full name without any honorifics was the best he could do.

"I need to find Draco. Do you know where he is?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Dobby.

"Could you bring him here if I asked?" Harry asked. Surely it can't be this easy.

"I could if he is wanting to come, Harry Potter," replied Dobby.

"What if he is not wanting... what if he doesn't want to come?" he asked. He had better watch out or he would be speaking like a house-elf.

"Then Dobby can do nothing. Only a wizard who wants to have an elf bring him can be brought," explained Dobby.

Oh, well. "Do you know where everyone is?" asked Harry. Perhaps if Dobby just pointed out the Death Eaters, they could go collect them.

"Just the people Dobby knows well, Harry Potter. Dobby is also able to know where Harry Potter's friends are because of the connection between Harry Potter and his friends," said Dobby.

Harry thought about this for a moment and then asked "Dobby. Can you tell me where Lucius Malfoy is right now?" The Arch-Death Eater had been removed from Azkaban a few days after Dumbledore's death. Apparently, Draco had achieved his mission to enough of an extent to allow his father a reprieve.

Dobby thought for a moment and then said "No, Harry Potter. Old Master is not letting himself be felt by enchantments." Apparently, Lucius knew he could be tracked that way but failed to tell his son. Interesting.

Harry decided that Draco at least could be caught. He, Ron and Hermione would go get him soon but first a few arrangements had to be made. "Do you think that Winky might be happy working for me," he asked. He would like to have an elf at Grimmauld Place and another to take care of their prisoners.

"Winky would love to work in a real house," said Winky. She had appeared behind him the moment he had said her name.

Really, Harry thought. House-elves make MI5 look like amateurs. "Hello, Winky," said Harry. "I have two places to take care of and need another house-elf. Would you like to take care of this house? You would have to take wages and time off just like Dobby."

This looked like a deal breaker for a moment but Winky finally said "Winky will work for Master Harry Potter but Winky isn't wanting being paid."

"Please do not call me Master. Dobby calls me Harry Potter and that or just Harry is what I prefer," said Harry. "All right, Winky. If Hermione asks, just tell her that you are getting all the money you want."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Winky.

"Dobby, please show Winky to her room and then show her the Fortress of Solitude. You two can visit each other whenever you want. Just don't tell anyone about the place Dobby shows you, Winky," said Harry.

"Winky keeps her master's secrets," said Winky. "Winky will tell no one."

Harry started to leave to find Ron and Hermione so that they could plan a raid to capture Draco when Winky suddenly popped back in the room. "Harry Potter did not tell Winky that she would have to take a room for herself," she said, quite put out. "Winky will sleep in the kitchen like a good elf." Dobby then popped into the room next to her.

"No, Winky," said Harry. "No one in this house will sleep anywhere except a proper bedroom. We have plenty. I will have no one think of themselves as less worthy of proper conditions than anyone else." Harry had not forgotten his cupboard under the stairs.

Dobby came up to Winky and put his arm around her shoulders. "Harry Potter is a great wizard and he is trying to always be a good master. He isn't trying to make Winky feel bad. He is not knowing how house-elves usually lives so he is sometimes making us take too much. Dobby is getting used to it and so will Winky"

Harry, against his personal instincts, decided to go for Winky's happiness instead of what he wanted.

"Winky, you will have your own room but you can decide if you want to use it. All I ask is that you try spending some time in it and make it your own. Maybe a few decorations or something." He smiled a bit as Winky perked up at the realization that she would not be forced to take a room if she didn't want to.

"Thank you, Harry Potter," she said. "Winky will do as Harry Potter asks." With that, the two elves popped out again.

Harry checked to make sure that his neither of his best friends were in Grimmauld Place and then flooed to the Burrow. As usual, Molly Weasley was cooking. Ron was still eating but the rest of the family had finished and gone about their business.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "Good morning, Ron."

"Good morning, dear," replied Molly. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked as she put two scrambled eggs on a plate in front of him.

"Not yet," said Harry as a half pound of bacon joined the eggs. Really. It would be a terrible idea to visit the Burrow on a full stomach since you were going to be eating, whether you needed to or not..

Harry and Ron ate in silence for the next ten minutes. Since Ron had a head start, they both finished about the same time. Ron asked "So, what plans for today, mate?"

Harry responded "Well, I was hoping to find Hermione and the three of us should go to the Fortress and I'll tell you my idea there."

"She said that she'd be over after breakfast," said Ron. "Why don't we do a little target practice while we wait?"

They went to the hill that Harry had been pulverizing for a week or so. Ron had occasionally joined Harry and Ginny but realized that Ginny had other motives for being there. She was in town shopping, though and he and Harry had a lot of fun trying to see who could get the biggest crater. Harry had been winning lately but Ron was getting better. He also had some issues with holding himself back and benefitted from the new technique. He could not, however, manage the extended detonations that Harry was becoming proficient at.

After about an hour, Hermione joined them on the hill. She tried her best to at least match Ron but came up just a bit short, most of the time. She was, however, much more powerful than Ginny. Eventually they decided to go to the Fortress of Solitude and discuss their plans.

Harry apparated the three of them to the Shrieking shack and they apparated themselves to the statue. When they arrived, they found Dobby and Winky still there. Apparently, they were examining the cells very carefully to make sure they were escape-proof. They went to the office and sat in the comfortable chairs.

Harry opened the meeting. "I think it is time to make our first capture. We need an arm from a Death Eater for Fred, George and Remus to finish the maps." They had already, with her permission, used the new obliviate spell to find out how to remove and preserve an arm so that it could be reattached. The actual reattaching would have to be done by a skilled healer but the removal could be done by one of them.

"Fine," said Ron. "Do you have a lead on someone?"

"Draco Malfoy," said Harry. "Dobby can take me to him and I can bring him here."

"Draco?" asked Ron. "Don't you think he might be a little too well protected?"

"I don't think so," replied Harry. "He didn't do that well with the actual murder of Dumbledore and his dad knows how to block Dobby from finding him but Draco doesn't. I don't think they are wasting any resources keeping his sorry butt alive right now."

"So where is he?" asked Hermione.

"Dobby," said Harry. Dobby appeared immediately. "Where is Draco Malfoy?" he asked.

"Master Draco is currently in a room by himself on the north end of England, Harry Potter," said Dobby.

"Alone?" asked Harry. "Are there others nearby?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby. "He is in a hotel with many rooms. Some of the rooms have people in them."

"What town is he in?" asked Ron.

"The name of the town is Fenwick, Master Ron," said Dobby.

"This might be too easy," said Harry. "You two wait here. If all goes well, I'll be back in a few minutes. It all goes bad, I'll need you to save me."

"Wait, Harry," said Hermione. "We need a plan. You can't just expect to rush in and grab him."

"Actually, I do," said Harry. "If you were in a hotel in Fenwick, the last thing you would expect would be having me pop in and kidnap you. I should gain all the advantage I need by surprise."

Hermione didn't like the plan but couldn't fault it. It would be a complete shock to Draco that he could be found so easily. A seconds hesitation was all Harry needed. "Dobby," she said before they left. "If anything happens to harm Harry, bring him back here right away."

Dobby looked at Harry to confirm the order and Harry nodded. He put on his invisibility cloak and grabbed Dobby's hand. With a pop, they were gone.

They apparated into Draco's hotel room. Draco was laying on the bed. He looked like he had just woken up. Harry was shocked to see that Draco's face looked like he had been on the run for months instead of the few weeks it had been since he had fled Hogwarts. His eyes were sunken and what facial hair he could grow was actually visible. He was wearing the same clothes he had on the night of the raid and looked like he had not washed them yet. The image of the once swaggering Draco reduced to this caught Harry by surprise. Draco had his wand in his hand and was looking cautiously around. He didn't seem sure that he heard an apparition pop but he thought he had. Before he could cast some precautionary spells, Harry cast a silent stunner and Draco slumped to the bed.

Harry and Dobby looked through the room for anything of value but found absolutely nothing but the clothes on his back. With a word to Dobby to go back, Harry grabbed Draco and apparated to the offices of the Fortress of Solitude.

When Draco awoke, he wondered where he found the money to buy the five gallons of fire whiskey he must have drunk. His head felt as if it would bump the walls when it throbbed with each beat of his heart. He went to push himself up but ended up falling out of the left side of the bed when his left arm didn't do it's part. He looked with a start when his old house-elf Dobby popped into the room with a potion.

"Please drink this Master Draco and you is be feeling better," said Dobby.

Draco didn't argue. He didn't care if it was poison if it made the pain stop. He downed the potion quickly and the pain in his head stopped within seconds. He tossed the bottle on the bed and went to stand up. He then had a better grasp on the cause of his earlier tumble when he noticed his left arm was missing. It took a second for this to register. His first thought was "Oh, so that's what the problem was." His second thought was "MY BLOODY LEFT ARM IS MISSING!"

There was a tapping in front of him. He looked up to see Harry Potter tapping on the clear wall of his "room" with Draco's wand while holding what appeared to be his left arm in his other hand.

"Looking for these?" he asked. Harry had an amused look on his face and acted like he was merely holding up a lost book.

Draco reverted to his normal procedure when things go wrong. Step one: Don't make it worse by rash actions. Step two: Assess the situation. Let's see. I have no idea where I am. This looks like a prison cell. My wand is gone. Potter has my left arm. He smiled grimly to himself, pleased that there was very little he could do to make things worse.

"Before you panic, Draco," said Harry.

"Too late," thought Draco.

"I want you to know that your arm has been removed in a special way. It can be reattached later if we choose to do so," said Harry. "As you are no doubt aware, the dark mark can be traced. We will store your arm somewhere that we hope will be relatively safe." With that, Harry walked away.

Harry returned to the office. Entering, he put the arm on the nearest table and sat in his chair. Ron and Hermione waited for his report.

"Draco is awake and seems to be taking the loss of his arm a whole lot better than I would," said Harry. "I told him it was taken to prevent tracking and that it could be reattached."

"That was a good idea, Harry," said Ron. "We want him to worry about the permanent loss of his arm. It will give him something to think about during questioning."

"Are we going to question him now?" asked Hermione. "I won't have any veritaserum for another two weeks."

"We'll wait for a few hours and let him think his situation through," answered Harry. "Meanwhile, where are we going to put these? I don't want them laying around." Harry held up Malfoy's arm.

"They need to be a long way away so as not to be very detectible and definitely not easily recoverable," said Hermione. She went to a drawer and took out some parchment and string.

"Perhaps we could put anti-apparition wards around an abandoned coal mine in Wales," suggested Ron. "That would make them hard to find and time consuming for other Death Eaters to recover. The more we can keep them sidetracked with other tasks, the less real damage they can do."

"Until then, I want this away from Hogwarts," said Harry. "One of us can check out the mines in Wales. There have to be at least a few that aren't used anymore."

"I can do that," said Hermione. She had written "Draco Malfoy' on two pieces of parchment and had tied one to his arm and the other to his wand. "If the Hogwarts library doesn't have anything on coal mining towns, a muggle library should. She stood up and left the office.

"Dobby," said Harry. The elf appeared immediately. "Can you find us a cave or something a long ways away that nobody ever goes to?" asked Harry.

Dobby thought very hard for about a full two minutes before saying, "Dobby has found a few caves but they all have had visitors. The cave with the least visitors is being in a hill about a wizards pop south and is last being seen by a wizard before Harry Potter went to Hogwarts," said Dobby.

"A wizard pop?" asked Ron.

"I think he means as far as an average wizard can apparate, Ron," said Harry.

"Dobby," said Harry. "Please put this arm in an out of the way place in the cave you found." Harry handed Dobby the arm.

"Harry Potter, sir," began Dobby, "Master Draco's arm is still alive and Dobby can not be taking it without Master Draco saying so." Dobby seemed to be upset that he couldn't obey Harry.

"No problem, Dobby," said Harry. "Come with me." Harry walked to Draco's cell and activated the sound.

"Draco," said Harry, "will you give Dobby permission to take your arm when we ask or would you rather I burn it?" asked Harry.

Draco looked panicked. "Take it, Dobby!" he shouted. He was in a bad spot but he could see no way to bargain with that question.

"Thanks, Draco," said Harry. He turned the sound back off and went back to the office. Dobby popped away and almost beat Harry back.

"Master Draco's arm is being safe in the cave, Harry Potter," he said.

"Thanks, Dobby," said Harry. He sat in his chair and faced Ron. "So, Ron. What sort of info do you think our junior Death Eater might have?"

Ron looked through an office window towards the cells. Malfoy was laying on the bed, looking at the ceiling. "I kind of doubt that he has been chumming around with Voldemort for the last few weeks," he said. "It looks like he has either been given a very dangerous assignment or he has been less than satisfactory to the big guy."

Harry thought about it a moment. "Well, he did get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts but his indecision in killing Dumbledore cost Voldemort his best spy," he said. "In that sense, he failed to complete his mission."

"I suppose so," agreed Ron. "I'm guessing he is on the run. Maybe that's why it didn't bother him to lose the arm and get caught by us. At least we'll feed and hide him and he can't be found by his old mates."

"Good point," replied Harry. "Maybe our best threat to him would be to put his arm back on and kick him out. He'd be dead inside of a month."

"In that case, should we just level with him? Show him it's in his best interest to be cooperative?" asked Harry, suddenly realizing that he might have to befriend one of his worst enemies.

"In this one case, I'd say yes," replied Ron. "From what you've told me, he didn't want Greyback to get in the school, he only completed the vanishing cabinet repair on pain of death, he seemed to be ready to take Dumbledore's offer, and he couldn't kill Dumbledore when the time came."

"I think he's ready to turn," said Harry. "I don't think he will know much useful information himself but if we can catch one or two real Death Eaters with his help, we could use their information and expand out from there. Draco might just be the first step."

Harry thought for a moment. "Dobby, please make Draco a lunch similar to the ones you made when you worked at his house. Include a dessert he likes." He would try the nice approach and see where it got him.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby. "Dobby will be bringing it in just a few minutes." With that, Dobby went to prepare lunch for Draco.

"So we be nice to him and hope he appreciates it?" asked Ron. He was not a very big supporter of any Slytherin, much less Draco.

"It looks like he's had a hard time. If we are the good guys right from the start, he might just jump on the bandwagon right away," replied Harry.

"And if he doesn't?" asked Ron.

"We can adjust to being the not so nice guys," said Harry.

After about ten minutes, Dobby returned with a selection of turkey, chicken and ham sandwiches with a pitcher of butterbeer and a cherry topped cheese cake. Harry and Ron looked at it and both came to the same conclusions: that looked pretty good, they were hungry, too and there was enough for them all.

"Dobby, please put that on the desk here and ask Draco to join us," said Harry, politely.

Dobby popped away and returned several seconds later with Draco. Draco did not move, but just looked around. He saw the plate of food and waited. He wondered what he would have to do to get a sandwich.

"Have a seat, Draco," offered Harry, pushing over an extra office chair.

Draco sat in the chair but remained silent. He looked first at Harry, then Ron, then the plate of food and finally back to Harry.

"It's lunch time, Draco," said Harry. "Please, help yourself." Harry reached over and grabbed a ham sandwich while Dobby poured all of them a glass of butterbeer. Ron took a chicken sandwich. After a moment, Draco reached out with his one hand and took a turkey sandwich. He ate it as quickly as he could with one arm and reached for another.

Harry and Ron both silently watched Draco as they ate. He was starting to arouse their suspicions that he hadn't been eating well when he grabbed the third sandwich. He confirmed it with his fourth.

Draco apparently was feeling a little better because after he drained his glass of butterbeer he said "Dobby, cake!" in a totally natural but commanding voice.

Dobby reached quickly to cut the cake when Harry stopped him. "Draco. There is no quicker way to a bread and water diet than treating Dobby as you have in the past. I do not blame you personally for this since it is a characteristic of purebloods."

"Hey!" said Ron, in protest.

"All right. Some purebloods," conceded Harry. "Dobby is now a free elf who is paid to take care of your butt and he will be treated and addressed with proper manners and consideration."

Dobby looked nervous. Draco looked surprised. Harry was correct in his assumption that Draco was acting out of habit, not malice when dealing with Dobby. Draco was well fed but remembered his last lean weeks only too well. Bread and water did not look too bad to him but turkey sandwiches looked a lot better.

"I understand," he said. "Dobby, could you please cut me a piece of cheese cake. I seem to be short an arm."

Dobby served them all cheese cake and had a piece himself at Harry's suggestion. This seemed to completely surprise Draco. He had never in his life seen a house-elf eat with his master.

After lunch, Dobby poured them all another butterbeer and cleaned up the dishes. Harry and Ron each thanked Dobby for his excellent lunch and cheese cake and, with a look from Harry, Draco followed suit.

"Well, Draco," began Harry, "I suppose you are wondering why you are sitting here having an excellent lunch instead of floating face down in a pond somewhere."

"I suspect that fate is only delayed until my usefulness is at an end," replied Draco. He didn't seem too worried, just resigned.

"We'll see," replied Harry. "Your job here is to provide information. The more you provide, the better your conditions."

"What sort of information and just how much of an improvement are we talking about?" asked Draco.

Ron said "No "I'll die before I'll betray the Dark Lord" or "My Master will reward my loyalty" talk? Just what kind of a Death Eater are you?"

"I'm the lousy kind," said Draco, succinctly. It was true. They wouldn't have heard a self-respecting Death Eater even hint at a betrayal without some trouble.

Harry and Ron looked at each other before Harry decided to answer Draco's questions. "We would like to know who and where any other Death Eaters are that you know about and also the times and locations of their movements."

"Can't help you," said Draco. "Snape and I went to Riddle Manor after we left Hogwarts. I sat in the basement and ground floor with about two dozen other new recruits for a few days. We were never allowed out of the house. We didn't get much information while I was there. The current plan that they shared with us was to practice our spell casting, prepare for great rewards if we served the Dark Lord well and to lay low until ordered to do otherwise. I think some of the mid to high end Death Eaters were waiting for something; I don't know what. When that happened, they would want a bunch of us for cannon fodder."

"You are the son of Lucius Malfoy," said Ron. "Didn't that buy you a few perks?"

Draco started to speak and then paused, as if the memory was difficult to recount. "After a couple of days, they brought a girl there. They took turns with her, you know what I mean?" he asked. He looked up with still shocked eyes. Harry and Ron nodded and he continued. "I was my father's son so I was encouraged to give her a go as well. I made some sort of a boast about having better than her and they let it pass. Anyway, I decided then that these were not the sort of people I wanted to be around; to be like. I left the first chance I got and have been on the run ever since." Harry didn't know what to think about this suddenly thoughtful Draco. Draco finished his story. "I can still hear her screaming. I know I talked a good game but I'm just not cut out for that. I stayed in muggle hotels. I would find an empty room and sleep a few hours at a time. You are right about the dark marks. I could feel a slight pull on it. They were looking for me. I had to keep moving. You have no idea how glad I am to be rid of that damn mark." Suddenly, he laughed.

"What's so funny?" asked Ron.

"Well," said Draco, "you've heard the expression "I'd give my right arm to do whatever'? It just struck me as funny when I thought of it. Sometimes it's true."

They all sat still for a moment. Then Hermione apparated back in front of the statue. She had a parchment and a couple of books. When she walked into the office, she was surprised to see Draco, especially since he was sitting in her chair, sipping a butterbeer.

"I've been gone a bloody half hour and you're all sitting here drinking butterbeer and chatting away like old friends," she said. "I'm surprised you haven't had Dobby bring you lunch."

The boys all looked at each other with surprised and guilty expressions. "You didn't!" she cried. She sat on the edge of the table and looked at them in complete surprise. "Just so I know what I didn't have for lunch, what did you eat?"

Surprising everyone, Draco said "Turkey, ham and chicken sandwiches with a great cherry cheesecake for dessert."

Hermione walked over to Ron. "So," she said, menacingly, "where are my sandwiches that you saved for me, oh great boyfriend?"

"Uh, we didn't, ah..," he sputtered. It took him a few seconds to realize that there was no correct answer to that question. Only a sincere apology would work. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't think about you. I mean, I didn't think that you might be hungry. It's just when those sandwiches came, they looked so good. And that cheesecake was fantastic." He seemed to forget his immediate danger and reminisced about the lunch.

"You're digging your own grave, Weasley," said Draco, smirking.

Ron came around and looked stunned. Harry laughed and Hermione eventually was satisfied with just a slight scowl. She pulled up a spare chair, poured herself a butterbeer and sat back. "Well?" she asked.

Before filling Hermione in on the last half hour, Harry turned to Draco. "Draco, we are in too serious a situation to just trust you on anything for the moment. We will not have any veritaserum for about two weeks. During that time, we will still need what information you may have. If it turns out to be false, or if you are actively working to hinder or betray us, you will find yourself in that pond very quickly. Tell us only the complete truth when we interview you and you will find yourself in cell twenty-seven."

"Cell twenty-seven?" asked Draco.

"Let's have a look, shall we?" suggested Hermione. She had caught on that Draco was at least appearing to cooperate and decided to follow the lead of Harry and Ron and be nice.

The four of them stepped out the office door to the first cell on the right hand side. It was situated on the corner of the entrance hall and the actual chamber and Dobby had taken his orders to make some of them nice on this side quite seriously. This cell was the best. Using the corner to it's advantage, it had a large bedroom area in front of a bathroom complete with shower, toilet and sink. The requested table and chairs were on the opposite side. The deeper recess allowed a third area that had a nice desk and book case. A recliner completed the den section. It was, by far, the nicest cell in the place.

They went back to the office and Draco said "What do you want me to do?"

Harry opened a cabinet full of empty vials and said "I want you to fill these."

Draco said "I'll need more butterbeer."

Allowing him to use his wand (with Harry, Ron and Hermione pointing theirs at him the entire time), he used the spell from Dumbledore's notebook to remove his memories of everyone he saw in Riddle Manor, his walks through the rooms he was allowed into, and his memory of his escape. Harry brought the pensieve to their office and they viewed the memories. This allowed them to draw up a pretty good map of the house and it's surroundings.

Identifying the Death Eaters was another thing. It was not possible to take a photograph of a memory. Anyone who might recognize the Death Eaters would have to go into the pensieve to view the memory themselves. The three of them decided to allow Tonks to see the memories.

"I'll take the memories and pensieve back to Grimmauld Place and let her see them," said Harry. "Why don't you two check out those coal mines that Hermione found?" he asked.

"How are we going to get there?" asked Hermione. "We can't apparate that far. Maybe Dobby can take us."

"Why not use those Firebolts that we bought?" asked Ron. He had been itching to use his since he bought it. "It would only take a couple of hours at top speed."

"Let's see," mused Hermione. "Either get there safely and instantly with Dobby or scream across the sky thousands of feet high for a couple of hours in terror. Hmm. Let me think."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," pleaded Ron. "You haven't even take yours up more than twice yet. It would give you some practice without worrying about anything else."

"I worry about plenty on a broomstick as it is, Ronald," she said coldly. "Oh, all right. I suppose we could take the bloody brooms. You owe me dinner for this, though."

She stormed out of the office. Ron looked to Harry and asked "Is this a win or a loss for me?" He then followed Hermione.

After they were gone, Harry told Dobby to give Draco the last few Daily Prophets, snacks at tea time and to make sure that he checked on him every hour or so. Draco had given the appearance of complete cooperation and had earned cell twenty-seven, for now. When the veritaserum was finished, they would know how cooperative he really was but the info they had received so far was pretty hard to fake. Harry had seen altered memories from Slughorn. Draco's looked authentic.

Harry then gathered up the pensieve and new vials and apparated back to Grimmauld Place. He was finding that the more he apparated through anti-apparition wards, the easier it was becoming. He expected the resistance and just applied more power to get through. Dumbledore had told him that the ability to sense and compensate for the wards required the prolonged use of magic. This was obviously not common and he thought that it was a combination of the superior magical ability of both of his parents and the infusion of magic that Voldemort gave him during their first encounter. Perhaps it was one of the ways that Voldemort marked him as his equal, as the prophecy stated.

In any event, it sure freaked a lot of people out. Tonks was in that group. She was in the kitchen, getting some pumpkin juice when Harry apparated in. She screamed "Bloody Hell!" as she dropped her glass. Winky, sensing both the presence of the person she considered her master and a mess, popped in and began cleaning up while asking "Does Master Harry Potter need anything?"

"Yes, I do, Winky," said Harry. "I need you to not call me Master. I am your employer. I prefer Harry but if you must, you can call me Harry Potter like Dobby."

"Winky will do as Harry Potter orders," said Winky. She looked like a puppy that had been kicked by his boy.

"How can she make me feel guilty about not making her act like a slave?" wondered Harry.

"Watcher, Harry," said Tonks after she had regained bladder control. "I here you got yourself your very first prisoner."

Now Harry was surprised. "How the bloody hell did you find that out?" he demanded. They had just caught Draco that morning and Harry was the first one who went back to his house.

"Dobby," she replied. "He was making a bunch of sandwiches and I asked who they were for. He said they were for your prisoner. I think he realized he was saying too much because he dummied up after that."

"I think I will be having a talk with a certain house-elf about security," said Harry. He then added "Not that I think you are a risk but we don't want him blabbing about our actions to anyone who asks."

"That's probably a good idea, Harry," agreed Tonks. "I'll forget all about it. So, what brings you back with a pensieve and what looks like a bunch of memories?" she asked.

"Well, we got our very first prisoner today," said Harry, "and we wanted you to view his memories to see if you recognize any of his little friends."

"How did you get his memories so fast?" asked Tonks. "It has to be voluntary or they aren't any good."

"We gave him some sandwiches and a room upgrade and he has been very helpful ever since," said Harry with a smirk.

"What kind of a Death Eater did you get?" asked an incredulous Tonks. "Most of them won't give you Voldemort's shoe size without a fight."

"The lousy kind," replied Harry. "It's Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy!" exclaimed Tonks. "How on earth did you find him?"

"It seems that I'm not the only one who didn't know what a blabbermouth Dobby is," replied Harry. "I asked him if he knew where Draco was, since he used to be the Malfoy's house-elf and he could still sense him. He took me right to his hotel room. I stunned him and took him to the Fortress."

"You have a fortress?"

"That's just what we call our headquarters."

"I thought this was headquarters."

"This is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Ron, Hermione and I have our own headquarters. We call it the Fortress of Solitude."

"Why?"

"We just like how it sounds."

"Good enough for me. So why is Draco ratting out his friends so easily?" asked Tonks.

"He doesn't like them," said Harry. "He had never chummed around with the run-of-the-mill Death Eaters before and, well, he ..." Harry wasn't sure if sharing such a personal revelation was the right thing to do. He decided that the reason Draco turned was a necessary part of the tale for the sake of Tonks believing it was genuine. "He was at Riddle Manor for a few days. They brought in a girl and gave her to the recruits. Draco decided he didn't want to be a Death Eater any more and left."

"Do you believe him?" asked Tonks. She wasn't suggesting Harry was gullible. She wanted his opinion.

"Actually, I do. We won't know for sure until the veritaserum is done but his memories look authentic," said Harry. "I have some of the general layout of Riddle Manor and it's grounds and of all the Death Eaters he saw around there. We wanted you to look at them because you might recognize someone."

"You are going to spoil me, Harry," said Tonks. "It normally takes weeks of surveillance to identify new Death Eaters and now I can stroll around in Draco's memory and see all the new recruits. This is way too easy."

"Speaking of way too easy," said Harry. "I have to leave you to this, if you don't mind. I have an errand to run that might make Death Eater hunting even easier. I'll let you know how that turns out."

"Have fun," said Tonks. "About how much memory are we talking here?" she asked, looking at the vials.

"I think we have about two or three hours worth," replied Harry. "We only looked at the ones concerning the house and grounds since we didn't have much of a chance recognizing the Death Eaters. We have some good maps drawn."

"I'll have a start at them in a little bit," said Tonks. "I just wanted to get a quick bite. Will you be back tonight?"

"I should be," answered Harry. "I don't expect I will be gone very long. Do you need anything from Diagon Alley?"

Tonks thought for a moment. "Not that I can think of. Do you think that Remus and I could talk to Draco?"

"Sure," replied Harry. "Where is Remus?" He hadn't noticed until now that Tonks seemed to be alone.

"He is working on something with the Weasley twins. I don't think it's going too well. He's been a right grouch lately."

"Actually, that is where I am going and I should be able to help them out quite a bit," said Harry. "They need a dark mark for their work and now they can use Draco's."

"Do you think it's wise to let Draco go to their shop?" she asked.

"He won't be going; just his mark," Harry replied.

"Isn't the mark on his arm?"

"That's right."

"Do I want to know?"

"Hermione sure didn't so I suppose not."

"See you, Harry," said Tonks, trying desperately not to think about what she was thinking about.

Harry apparated to the back room of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He didn't want to floo to the Leaky Caldron since it would be better to not be seen. Lee Jordon was taking a break, eating a sandwich and reading a magazine. He jumped up when he heard the crack of Harry apparating in.

"Sorry, Lee," said Harry. "Didn't mean to startle you. Are Fred and George around?" he asked.

"Sure," answered Lee. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" asked Harry.

"How did you apparate in here? All of the stores around here are warded against that."

"Maybe your wards are faulty," suggested Harry. He didn't want the fact that anti-apparition wards didn't work against him to get around. He had gotten so used to the convenience of apparating into Grimmauld Place and the Fortress of Solitude that it was now second nature. He would have to start doing things the hard way.

Lee didn't look convinced but shrugged it off. "I think that Fred is in the office and George is working the main floor. It might be the other way around."

"Thanks," said Harry and went to the office door. He knocked and went in.

"Hi, Fred. Hi, Remus," he said as he noticed Lupin and Fred were bent over a map. "Still no luck?"

"Hi, Harry," said Remus. "No. I think that James and Sirius could have figured it out but without a dark mark to work with, we're stuck." He tossed his wand on the map in frustration.

"I think I can help you there," said Harry. "Dobby."

The small elf appeared and said "Yes, Harry Potter. What can Dobby be doing for you?"

"Please bring be the arm of a Death Eater, Dobby," said Harry.

"Yes, Harry Potter." Dobby popped away. Fred and Remus looked at each other and Fred was about to say something when Dobby popped back with the arm of Draco Malfoy.

"Bloody Hell, Harry!" shouted Remus and Fred, together. Harry wondered if his friends ever used any other exclamatory phrases.

"Don't lose it, guys," said Harry, calmly. "I will probably have to return that to it's owner someday."

"How in the world did you get Draco Malfoy's arm?" asked Fred.

"How did you know it was Draco's arm?" asked Harry, confused.

Remus held up the name tag that Hermione had tied to it.

"Oh, yeah," said Harry. "I'd like to keep that a secret for now but I would suggest that you only keep the arm here for short periods of time. Voldemort and his Death Eaters can trace these marks. Keep it for as long as you are working; then have Dobby take it back where he got it." Turning to Dobby he said "Do you understand, Dobby? I want you to help Fred and Remus, and George, too for that matter, so when they call, please come to them and let them use the arm as much as they need. OK?"

"Dobby will do as Harry Potter asks," said Dobby.

"OK. I'm going to head out. We've done a lot today and Tonks is viewing Draco's memories right now," said Harry.

"You have usable memories already?" asked Lupin. "When did you capture Draco?"

"This morning," replied Harry. "We can discuss the rest tonight. If you and George want to come to dinner tonight, we can have a limited discussion about it."

"Sure, we'll be there," said Fred. "Now that we have a dark mark, we might have this sorted out by then, or at least know more about it."

"Fine," said Harry. "Ron and Hermione are in Wales right now so let's make it a late dinner. Shall we say 8:00?"

"Sure," said Fred. He and Remus started over the map again. Harry apparated back to Grimmauld Place before he realized that he had done it again. Now Fred will have seen him apparate where it shouldn't be possible.

Winky was delighted that company was coming for dinner. Harry had remembered Hermione's comment about Ron owing her dinner and had sent Dobby to let them know that they would be having a dinner meeting at Grimmauld Place at 8:00. This would take Ron off the hook and help divert Hermione's wrath at having to ride a broom, at least for a while. After viewing some of Draco's memories, Tonks had suggested and Harry had agreed to let Mad-eye view the memories as well. He would be most able to use the direct information concerning the fortifications of Riddle Manor in case an attack would be needed. He also would be attending dinner since he only had time to view one memory so far and had decided to spend the night and continue in the morning.

Dinner that evening had some decidedly strange conversations. "The Arm" was a central theme of most of the talk. Fred and George had spent the better part of the time since Harry left their shop discussing the characteristics of the mark that they had been able to determine. They had already sketched out some of the different ideas that had suggested themselves concerning various warning devices and traps that would be activated when a dark mark was near. This had Harry quite excited.

"So you were able to use the dark mark to affect magical items?" he asked. "Were you able to have them show up on the Marauder's Map?"

"Well, not quite," admitted George.

"We can tell that it emits a magical signature and we can do a bit with that but," said Fred.

"The signal is so faint that it's usefulness at any sort of distance over a few feet might take a while," finished George.

Harry thought for a moment about this. Karkaroff had been found and they surely didn't have to be within a few feet of him to find him. "There has to be a way to detect it from a reasonable distance," he said. "Karkaroff was found. It also has enough range to summon them all to Voldemort if he touches one."

"We know, Harry," said Lupin. "It is just a matter of time before we can sort this out. Give us a few days and we'll know where every Death Eater within fifty miles of here is hiding."

"It is just some sort of dark magic that we aren't familiar with," agreed Fred.

"Speaking of security," said Mad-eye, "I think you had better forget about selling anything that has to do with dark mark detection."

"What on earth for?" asked George. "Everyone will want something to automatically protect them from Death Eaters."

"And the very first thing that Voldemort will do is remove the dark mark from all of them," replied Moody. "Or he might just start dragging people off the street and branding them all. Either way, we would lose any advantage. Anything you come up with has to remain secret or it will be useless."

"Well, that sort of takes the incentive away, doesn't it?" asked Fred.

"It would certainly seem so," agreed George. They had enough to do with their shop without having to invent things that they couldn't sell.

"Don't worry about selling this stuff," said Harry. "I will be buying plenty to make a profit."

This cheered the twins up but raised other questions. "Thanks, Harry," said Fred.

"What exactly do you need all of this dark mark detection for, anyway," asked George.

Harry was afraid of this moment. He had teams of people who would be working on various items and procedures for him but he couldn't tell them anything. "I am sorry, but we can not tell anyone but Remus and Tonks about our ultimate purposes. We will make available any information that we come across that could be of benefit to the Order. Some of our activities will be detrimental to the Death Eaters and some of your inventions will also help out the Order. Our primary purpose and goal, however, must remain secret. I am sorry."

There. He had just told Mad-eye and two members of the family that he had adopted as his own that he could not trust them enough to tell them what he was doing. He waited with held breath to see if they would yell at him, question him, shun him or abandon him. He did not dare to hope for what had happened.

"That is the best decision you have made so far, Potter," growled Mad-eye. He had a half of a smile on his face as he realized that someone was finally listening to his "constant vigilance" advice.

"We agree, Harry," said Fred and George, simultaneously. "The less we know, the less we can spill if we get careless or caught," said George.

"Just buy what we make and we will be happy," said Fred.

"And if you happen to use a Weasley Wizard Wheeze to defeat Voldemort," said George.

"Be sure to let the Daily Prophet know about it," said Fred.

"On a daily basis," said George.

"Thanks," said Harry. "I was afraid you wouldn't understand. This has to remain secret or we will never succeed. Even the Fortress of Solitude must remain secret. Only Remus and Tonks, who are sort of our liaison with the Order of the Phoenix, will be allowed in to question our prisoners. Mad-eye will have to be satisfied with memories."

"I got quite a bit from the ones I saw earlier, Potter," said Mad-eye. "I might even take a trip to Riddle Manor to check it out in person. Get a feel for the surrounding area. You never know when we might have to do something there."

"That's good," said Harry. "As to the twins inventions; you said you could detect the mark for a distance of up to a few feet?" They nodded. "When you get that up to about one hundred yards or so, I would like some matched detectors and signals so that I would be warned if a Death Eater got close to a detector."

"Basically," began Hermione, "we have your map of Hogsmeade and the map of Hogwarts so if we had both encircled with your detectors, we want some sort of alarm and we want the maps to indicate where they were detected. It might not be necessary to identify individuals if we can track the movements of groups."

"Hogsmeade is a pretty big town, Hermione," said George.

"We'd be talking about hundreds of detectors. That would be some serious gold, girl," said Fred.

"Let us worry about that," said Ron. "We aren't worried about saving a few knuts if it will save a few lives."

"Absolutely correct," said Harry. "We can afford anything you come up with." He then thought of an added incentive for the twins. "In fact, there will be a twenty thousand galleon bonus when that phase of the work is done. I don't expect you to work for free."

"Blimey, Harry," said Fred. "Don't think we are in this just for the money."

"That's right," agreed George. "We want you to bring that bastard down and don't care if it bankrupts us."

"It won't because you will be compensated for your work," said Harry. "Money is not an issue. Time is important. We just don't want you worrying about your latest exploding teaspoon when you should be working on our stuff."

"Just give us Remus and a week with that arm, Harry," said George.

"And we'll have the whole deal sorted out," finished Fred.

"OK" said Harry. "I want Hogwarts and Hogsmeade protected by the time school starts. I don't care if we have to put detectors five feet apart."

July 9th - 1997

As it turned out, it was exactly a week later that Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the office of Weasley Wizard Wheezes with Fred, George and Remus. Tonks and Remus had made their first appearance in the Fortress of Solitude a few days earlier. They interviewed Draco but found out nothing new. He had told all that he knew. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had identified a very deep abandoned mine shaft in Gartheli, Wales. It had been warded by Dobby against apparition and Draco's arm had been placed there. They decided to put the arms in sealed containers due to the conditions in the mine. A nice nameplate on the container replaced the hand-written note that Hermione had originally tied on. So far, Draco's arm was the only one there. With luck, that was about to change.

The three friends had been told to meet the twins and Remus there and to bring Dobby. Dobby had been sent to retrieve the arm. After a few seconds, he returned and placed the arm on the table.

"We think we have it about as figured out as we are going to get" said Remus. He placed a sheet of parchment on the table. It had two lines drawn through the center with a large "N" on one end of one of the lines. He tapped it with his wand and said "Show me Death Eaters." The parchment started to develop a spot in the middle. After a few seconds, it sharpened to show the name "Draco Malfoy."

"This is not a map in the usual sense," said Remus. "As you can see, it placed Malfoy's arm in the center of the parchment. This is the relative map that you wanted. It has a range of about two hundred yards. That was the best we could do for now. If you can align the compass directions accurately, you can get a good idea of any nearby Death Eater's position. It's other command is "Show me everyone" which will show you everyone."

Ron looked at the parchment. "Is this one adjustable like the one of Hogsmead?" he asked.

Fred said, "Yes, it is." He demonstrated the parchment's zoom capabilities.

Hermione asked, "Would it be possible to put some lines on it that would adjust to show the actual distances involved?"

"I'm not sure I follow you," said George. "You want a line from the middle to the mark that tells how far it is?"

"That might also work, although it might get a little crowded," she said. "Actually, I was just thinking of some lines both horizontal and vertical that would always be ten yards apart or something."

"I think I see what you want," said Remus. "Yes, I think we can do that."

Harry then asked, "How has adding Death Eaters to the fixed maps been going?" He wanted to be able to see where any Death Eaters in Hogsmeade or Hogwarts might be.

"For some reason, unless the map is within two hundred yards or so of the Death Eater, they don't show up," said Fred.

"We're hoping to use some properly spaced detectors to do the detecting," said George.

"And then have them somehow relay that to the maps," said Fred.

"But so far, no luck," finished Remus.

"So you have some detectors that can sense the dark marks?" asked Ron.

"Sure," replied Fred. "We just need to have them send the info somewhere to be useful."

"Can you make the detector vibrate or get warm or something?" asked Hermione.

"Sure," replied George, "but that would only help if you were in range."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," she said. "If we have the relative parchment and a detector and we detect a Death Eater by chance, we would be able to locate him."

"That's a little random for my taste," said Remus, "but it's better than nothing. At least you would know to look at the parchment"

"Ok," said Harry. "Make up a few of those portable parchments with detectors. We'll place them in the best places we can find."

"Where are you thinking of putting them?" asked Ron.

"At Hogwarts, the Hogshead, the Burrow and here, plus I want two or three for us to carry with us," he said.

"Harry!" exclaimed George. "Those maps aren't cheap. We have about eight hundred galleons in this one what with potions and materials. Are you sure you need that many?"

"I will probably want more," replied Harry, "but those are the most important or strategically located places. Hogwarts is obvious. The Hogshead is located just about in the middle of Hogsmeade and will give the best coverage. Your parents and Ginny live at the Burrow and your place here will serve to keep an eye on Diagon Alley."

Harry picked up a piece of parchment and said, "Dobby, I want you to take this key and note to Gringotts." He handed him the key and parchment. Dobby apparated away with a pop.

"We will also need a means to communicate between the sites if large numbers of Death Eaters are detected," said Ron.

"If you don't think it will affect the detection abilities of the detectors, I could put a protean charm on them to allow simple messages to be sent," suggested Hermione.

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Remus. "We'll add the things you wanted to this map and get started on the rest. Maybe the protean charm would help solve the detector-map problem, too," he suggested.

"We already tried that," said George.

"Maybe as part of the solution, though," added Fred.

They spent the next half hour discussing various ways to have the fixed maps work at long range. Hermione had several good ideas for them to try and the spirits of the twins and Remus were raised accordingly. Dobby returned and gave Harry back his key and a large sack of gold.

"Here," he said, putting it on the table, "that should buy a few maps. It's twenty-five thousand galleons."

"That's a little much, Harry," said Fred, "especially since one of them is to protect our own family."

"The Burrow is my home, too," said Harry. "Molly has been my mother since I was twelve."

They had to agree. Molly had adopted Harry as her own the summer they had rescued him from the Dursley's.

"Fine, Harry," agreed George. "Hermione gave us some new ideas to try. We'll see what we can do."

With that, they said their goodbyes and left for Grimmauld Place.

July 12th, 1997

Three days later, they had their first finished portable Death Eater map and detector. They had to order some of the potion ingredients so the rest would take a couple of weeks more. Things were finally falling into place to capture some Death Eaters and start gathering the information necessary to find the remaining horcruxes. The only problem, if you could actually consider it a problem without wishing for trouble, was the Death Eaters seem to have fallen off of the face of the Earth. Except for an odd disappearance or two, which could have nothing to do with Voldemort, it seemed that the dark side was on vacation.

Naturally, they questioned Draco about this. He repeated his previous claim that the orders were to lie low while a few select Death Eaters tried to accomplish some secret purpose. He again stated, under veritaserum, that he did not know what that purpose was.

They even tried a couple of trips to Hogsmead, with Harry and Ron walking side by side to clear a path as Hermione walked behind them under the invisibility cloak, holding the map. They could use the actual map of Hogsmeade since that is where they were. No Death Eaters were to be found.

"Where the bloody hell are they?" said Ron. His frustration at finally having the upper hand with the average Death Eater and not being able to find any was wearing on the others. They, too, wanted to know where they were.

"I have no idea," replied Harry. "I feel like we are wasting our time unless we can get our hands on a couple with some experience." Draco had provided the necessary dark mark but not much intelligence. They needed someone who had been on a few missions.

It was also about this time that the Quibbler with the interview with Dumbledore's portrait (attributed to Harry, of course) came out. Since they didn't want any information that would be useful to Voldemort or his Death Eaters in it, and since it was edited by Luna's Father, it painted a very different picture of Albus Dumbledore than anybody had ever seen before. For instance; he had once enchanted all the ink on all the homework to soak directly through to the other side of the parchment. This caused the teachers for that day to read the assignments in a mirror. Some people had to decide whether Dumbledore was cracked for doing something like this or Harry was for thinking he had. All in all, it did give a fresh insight into one of the great minds of the age. With no real news to compete, it would become a best selling edition and allow the Lovegoods to take a trip next year.

The lull in activity did have some side benefits, besides no one being kidnaped or killed. For example, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had the opportunity to practice their spell casting power without worrying about neglecting anything important. It was also a way to release some of their frustration on the side of a hill. It did add to the frustration and embarrassment of Ginny, though. They took turns. Harry; THOOOMMMBBB!! Ron; Thoomb! Hermione; Thoomb! Ginny; Pop! THOOOMMMBBB!! Thoomb! Thoomb! Pop! Ginny was getting better but her ego was taking a bigger beating than the hill. With Hermione dating her brother, some of the heat was off but she still got up an hour earlier than normal so that she could brush her hair and put on her make-up to look her best for Harry. Harry had noticed the extra effort and complimented her on her looks. It wouldn't be good looks that helped in the fight against Voldemort, though and she knew that, of the women available, Harry must know that Hermione would be the best in a fight. Ginny wanted to resent Hermione for this but she knew in her heart that if Voldemort ever got to Harry, it would be over Hermione's dead body. She also knew it went the other way, too.

Why was she worried anyway? Hermione was dating Ron. She was dating Harry. She couldn't try to come between them since there was no "them" to come between. She was getting everything she could hope for. The boys were going to spend the next two weeks here at the Burrow since it was the original time period that Bill and Fleur had wanted for their wedding. Since they didn't know how long it would be until Bill's scars would heal up a little and they wanted to have a full moon to be sure of his werewolf status, the wedding was postponed until the middle of August. Molly was a little teary eyed but it wasn't a long delay. Hermione had decided to use the down time to spend some time with her parents. She would be gone most of the time until Harry's birthday. Ginny cheered up a little. THOOOMMMBBB!! Thoomb! Thoomb! POP!!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - Kidnaped

July 18th

Hermione sat in the kitchen of the Burrow. She had stopped by to check in and see what was going on. Ron and Harry had gone to the Fortress to check on Draco. They tried to do this at least twice a day so he didn't go stir crazy. Dobby also chatted with him a lot but that would be a mixed blessing, as far as Ginny could see. For a while, the minds the two young witches were occupied with trying to decide what presents they would give a certain mutual friend for his birthday when he "came of age" as wizards put it. Hermione and Ginny were comparing notes about what they wanted to give Harry since they both knew his interests were limited and they didn't want to give him the same quidditch related gift. He had been complaining about his seeker's gloves lately but that didn't seem very romantic to Ginny, who, as Harry's girlfriend, wanted to come up with something a little more personal, but not too personal with her mother likely watching as he opened her gift. Gloves seemed a little inadequate to Hermione. The problem was Harry. He did not have the luxury of presents while growing up and, as such, did not think to leave a few needs or desires unfulfilled near his birthday or Christmas so that he could give his friends some options. If he felt he wanted or could use something, he just bought it. Yes indeed. He was hard to shop for.

Finally, the two decided to just window shop in Diagon Alley and hope for the best. Harry's Birthday fell on a Thursday this year and they would have almost two weeks to look. Making arrangements to meet at the Leaky Caldron on Monday morning, the girls said their goodbyes for the time being and Hermione went home.

July 21st

When Ginny arrived at the Leaky Caldron at 9:00 AM on Monday morning, she found Hermione already sipping a butterbeer.

"Hello," said Ginny, sitting down. "Have you been waiting long?" She signaled to the bartender for a butterbeer for herself.

"No," answered Hermione. She held up her nearly full bottle. "Just a few sips."

"That's good," chirped Ginny. "How are your folks?"

"Just fine. Happy to spend some quality time with me this summer and all that," she said. The two girls exchanged pleasantries about their families while they drank their drinks. Finally, they got up. They did not notice the cloaked figure in the rear of the room. He had been there when they arrived, had left for a short time and then had returned. This, in itself, was not exactly unusual behavior in a bar. When people congregate in a place whose primary purpose is to serve drinks, people will have to leave occasionally to create room for more. This man, however, had not left to go to the restroom. He had more important tasks to perform.

Jonas McCord had joined the Death Eaters in the last year. Not having many perceivable skills, his lack of notice in his previous life was mirrored in his career as a Death Eater. He was not particularly powerful or intelligent. Now, however, he would be directly helping the Dark Lord in capturing or even killing his most hated enemy, That would have to help his rise in the ranks But first things first. His master had notified them all that they were to stay out of trouble but keep on the lookout for the opportunity to capture any of a very few select individuals. The number one choice was Harry Potter but that would only be accomplished through one of the others. He now had one of the top two on the list in sight. Yes, Harry Potter's girlfriend and the decoy as well. Anyone who read the Daily Prophet knew Harry's girlfriend was Hermione Granger. That had been reported over two years ago during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Since then, actually before then, it was unlikely to see Harry Potter without her and their other friend, Ron Weasley. There had been a few short-term girls thrown into the mix to try to disguise their relationship from people like him; Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood and now Ginny Weasley, but it didn't fool the Dark Lord. He knew who would be the most likely person to draw Harry Potter away from his hiding place. If Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley were in trouble, he would stop at nothing to get them back and to hell with the consequences. His master had taken the measure of him well enough a year and a half ago. Then, he had just used his god-father as bait. Somehow that hadn't worked out too well after that old fool, Dumbledore, showed up. But Dumbledore was dead now. There would be no help. Potter would come like a dog to supper and the Dark Lord would crush him. All he had to do was watch these girls for an hour or so while his fellow death eaters prepared Riddle Manor. He would take the girlfriend to them and send the decoy to Potter. The fool would deliver himself.

He rose with the girls and followed them to Diagon alley. They wandered through the shops, checking out the new model quills, the latest fashions in dress robes, the latest books (of course), and finally arrived at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Having seen nothing else that they thought would interest Harry, the girls entered the store. McCord waited outside, having seen his backup arrive just down the street.

"Well, Ginny," began Hermione. "You're the quidditch expert. What would Harry like?" She examined a case of practice snitches.

Ginny looked around and said "I don't know. It would have to be something other than game equipment. He has all of that. Maybe something to help tactically." She examined the box that Hermione had been reading and, with a smirk, tossed it back on the display case. Harry was the best seeker in decades. He didn't need any help with the actual game.

Ginny saw a large box with a few gauges on it. Looking closely she called to Hermione. "Look at this!" she called. Hermione came over and examined the box carefully.

"Ok, I give up," she said. "What is this used for?"

Ginny pointed at the sign. "It's a broom humidor."

Apparently, she thought that was an answer. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I saw the bloody sign," she stated flatly. "The question is what is it for?" she repeated.

Now it was Ginny's turn for an eye roll. "Honestly, even if you don't like to fly you should know something about broomsticks," she huffed, clearly enjoying being able to tell the older witch something for a change. "Brooms are made of wood, you know. If left to themselves, they will either dry out or mold, depending on the conditions." She waited for Hermione to nod. "This is a storage case that controls the temperature, pressure and humidity for you broom so that it will remain in optimum condition when it is being stored. It's the perfect gift for Harry because he doesn't have one and it would actually be useful," she concluded.

Hermione resumed looking at the case. "I agree," she said finally. "Which of us should get it for him?"

Ginny looked at the tag. "Yikes! It's bloody 80 galleons!" she exclaimed. Making a move as if to back away carefully, she looked forlornly at the special and useful item.

"Wait a minute, Ginny," said Hermione. She thought for a second, choosing her words carefully. "If you don't mind my asking, exactly what sort of budget did you have in mind for your present for Harry?" she asked.

Ginny looked a little embarrassed. It was well known that the Weasley's were not wealthy. "I don't know. I was hoping for something about 15 galleons or so," she replied.

Hermione smiled. "That's perfect," she said. "I normally go about 10 or so for both of the boys on their birthday but I had planned on about 50 galleons this year since it is our last year in school and I wanted it to be special. We can go in together. Harry will understand since it is such a big gift," she finished.

Ginny immediately turned red. "Hermione, I don't have 30 galleons," she whispered.

Hermione whispered back so no one else could hear. "I know. I do. Don't worry about it. My parents are both dentists. We aren't rich but we do have enough for this sort of thing," she said. "They will go along with this if I ask," she finished.

"It isn't fair to you," argued Ginny. "I'm his girlfriend. I can't ask you to finance a major present to him that will likely have him very happy with me."

Hermione persisted. "He is my best friend. I owe him my life and much more. This might be the last Summer we have together and you yourself said it is the perfect present," she argued back. "Just because you might get some benefit from joining me in buying it is not important. The important thing is we get done shopping and get back home." She then said with a smile, "Tell you what. You can wrap it if it makes you feel better. I've never been good at wrapping presents."

Ginny laughed. "Deal," she said and they went to the counter and purchased the case. It pretty much tapped them both out so the day was over.

They walked out the door, Hermione carrying the case since she was bigger. Before their eyes adjusted to the sun, they heard a pair of shouts. "Stupify!"

Harry was enjoying the glorious ability to sleep in. Clearly, he was not enjoying it as much as his best friend, Ron but it isn't fair to compare amateurs with professionals. By the time 10:00 rolled around, he had already woken at his usual time and fallen back to sleep. Re-awoken an hour or so later and fallen back to sleep and now had finally awoken for the last time since he did not feel tired at all and couldn't sleep anymore without external help. He and Ron had come back to The Burrow to spend a little time with Ron's parents. Preparing the Fortress of Solitude, the various maps, the supplies they needed and their other activities had taken up a fair amount of their time this summer. It was good to take a break for a while since Voldemort was apparently laying low. Hermione was using the break to spend some time with her parents.

"Time to get up, I guess," he muttered. He looked at Ron who did not seem to have his problem and slowly got dressed. Wandering down to the kitchen, he heard and smelled Mrs. Weasley cooking (did she never stop?) and went in to get breakfast.

"Good morning, Harry dear," she said as he waved and sat down. "You must have needed your rest. I don't suppose you have been getting enough with your activities." She looked at him with a worried expression. She knew that he had had little enough time for relaxation with his schedule and was glad he could enjoy some time with her family.

They chatted a little while Harry had his breakfast. Molly trying to pry a little information out of him about how he and Ginny were getting along.

Suddenly the fireplace glowed green and Ginny stumbled out crying. Then she screamed. Instantly, Harry and Molly were at her side helping her to the kitchen table. She looked up at Harry and said "They have her! Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley while we were shopping and stunned us both and... and... " She started crying uncontrollably.

Harry started to panic. Picking up Ginny in his arms he asked "Who do they have?" although he knew the answer. Hermione was supposed to be at her parents' house and he was not told of today's shopping trip but he knew it must be her.

"Hermione!" Ginny sobbed. "They said to tell you that if you wanted to get your girlfriend back you had better come to Riddle Manor." She looked up at him confused. "Why would they take her if they wanted your girlfriend?" she cried. She knew Harry and Hermione were close but she was his girlfriend, wasn't she. How could they make that mistake?

Harry didn't answer. He checked to make sure he had his wand and started for the door.

"No, Harry!" screamed Molly and Ginny together. "It's a trap. They want you to come!" Molly left her daughter and started for someone who she had openly declared as good as a son. "We need to get the Order together and make a plan. You can't just go by yourself!" She was clutching at his arm, trying to keep him within the anti-apparition wards.

"She is with them NOW!" he bellowed. "I can't wait!" With that he shook her off and turned on the spot. With a POP he was gone.

When Hermione woke, she found herself in very unusual circumstances. She found herself unbound but wandless in what appeared to be an old underground room that didn't quite seem like a dungeon but wasn't too much like her parent's basement either. The stone walls were lit by torches and there was but one large wood door with a small window near the top. She recognized the distinctive door and knew she was in the basement chamber that she saw in Draco Malfoy's memory. She was not alone. There were about 20 or so Death Eaters with her. They seemed to be waiting for her to wake up. She then recognized the after-affects of the enervate spell.

"Good morning, Mudblood," said a drawling voice so almost familiar to her. She looked up and noticed the tall speaker had long ultra-blond hair extending over his shoulders. He seemed to almost resent having to speak to her. "Don't worry. It is your brat of a boyfriend that we want, not you."

She was a little confused about this. Why would Death Eaters go to so much trouble to get to Ron? She made no reply. Instead she looked around a little more to get familiar with her surroundings. In the corner of the room she saw something that made her blood freeze. In the corner, temporarily forgotten by the men in the room were three women. They were fairly young, heavily bruised and quite naked. Their purpose was all too clear to her. She stared, her face passing from ashen to red in two heartbeats.

Lucius Malfoy looked over to where she was staring. Smiling, he said "I see you have noticed your co-inhabitants. Just a little entertainment provided by the Dark Lord for his loyal servants." He looked back at her. "I nearly forgot," he said as he waved his wand, vanishing her clothes. "You will be joining them." With that he spoke to the room. "It should take them at least an hour to prepare a force and arrive at the outer defenses. She must be kept alive until Potter arrives. We may need to demonstrate that she is still breathing to lure him in. Beyond that she is fair game." Turning back to Hermione's suddenly pale face and shocked expression he said "Good day, Mudblood." Turning, he walked out the door.

10 very long minutes passed.

POP! With a whirl of his t-shirt, Harry appeared next to Hermione. Although they were expecting him, this nevertheless shocked the Death Eaters. They had been expecting him to arrive with a force outside the manor's anti-apparition wards and then have to fight his way in to them. After they had killed off as many of the aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix as he had with him, they would call the Dark Lord who would come and finish Potter off. To have him enter into their midst alone was a bit of a shock.

Actually, that would have to be changed to mild surprise. The shock came a moment later when Harry, seeing Hermione's quivering body underneath that of a Death Eater, who seemed to have been interrupted raping her, finally had all his clogs, kinks and dams burst at one moment. As the Death Eater was rolling off of Hermione he shouted "REDUCTO" directly at the man's chest. Pieces of him flew everywhere as if he had a bomb explode inside him. He was the lucky one. Growling out "SEPTUM SEMPRA!" while visualizing a huge sharpened pendulum he saw once in a horror movie, he swung a long arc across the room at waist height. Turning around behind him he pictured a wall of fire while waving his left hand at the remaining Death Eaters. They burst into flames just as their comrades slumped to the floor in pieces. Looking around quickly for any other threats Harry first noticed the door, which he transfigured into a solid, immovable block of granite and then the three girls. He and Hermione were covered in blood and small pieces of Death Eater. Picking up Hermione, he quickly strode over to the girls who cowered from him in fear. It was lucky for them that they were on the floor since the mark on the wall from Harry's septum sempra was just inches above their heads. He reached out a hand to them and they reached out, each grabbing part of his arm. With a turn, they were gone.

The scene at the Burrow was full blown panic. Molly and Ginny had started screaming the moment Harry left and, within seconds, Ron was at their sides. Ginny told him what had happened while Molly flooed Arthur, Remus, Kingsley and Mad-eye. Five minutes later, seventeen members of the Order of the Phoenix and a dozen aurors were assembling for a desperate attempt to save Harry and, hopefully, Hermione from the clutches of an unknown number of Death Eaters and perhaps Voldemort himself.

Mad-eye was the first to speak. "Quiet people!" he shouted. Those near him turned and waited impatiently for him to continue. "We can't just go barging in there. This is an obvious trap. Unfortunately, now that Potter is involved we can't avoid an attack." Clearly, Hermione was not a high enough priority for Mad-eye to have risked the assault. Ignoring the furious looks from all of the Weasley's and from McGonagall who had also arrived, he continued. "Now, I know where Riddle Manor is but not many others do. We'll need to stop off at Dedalus Diggle's place; that's about half-way. How many here can apparate there?" he asked. No one responded. "No one?" he said in disbelief. "OK. Portkeys it is, then." Looking around with his magic eye he started to pick up some likely portkey objects. "Now, since we're using portkeys," he began. He didn't finish.

Just then, Neville flooed into the already crowded Burrow. Looking around at the crowd he saw Arthur and Molly and said "Excuse me, Mr. Weasley. I have a message for you from Harry."

Everyone froze. Arthur walked over to Neville with Molly in tow. "A message from Harry? You've spoken to him?" he asked.

"Sure," Neville replied. "Just a minute ago in St. Mungo's. He said that Hermione was OK but you should bring Ginny, Molly and Ron to comfort her. Gran's with them now." He looked around deciding if he should go on in such a crowded room. Finally, he said "We were going to visit my parents and had just entered the lobby when Harry and Hermione showed up. There was blood everywhere but Harry said it wasn't theirs. There were three other girls with him. The girls were all beat up and, uh, naked. So was Hermione. Harry called for help and the staff and some of the visitors covered them with cloaks or blankets." Ron noticed that Neville was not wearing a cloak. Neville continued, "Anyway, Harry saw me and asked me to give you that message. I don't know what happened," he concluded.

Molly screamed and rushed for the floo powder. With a flash and a cry of "St. Mungo's" she was gone. Quickly, she was followed by Arthur, Ginny, Ron and the rest of the crowd until Neville found himself alone. With a shrug, he followed.

The scene at St. Mungo's was sort of a hushed bedlam. While everyone was shocked and confused, the condition of the four women was enough to keep everyone subdued while they were calmed down and reassured. The three unknown girls that Harry had rescued were more surprised at their freedom, having had time to adjust to their abuses. The healers had calmed them down and were preparing to take them to their rooms. They were becoming more and more aware that their nightmare was over and the euphoria was starting to kick in. Hermione's was another case, however. She had gone from shopping to being kidnaped to being raped to being rescued in the space of less than a half hour. A witch healer, along with Mrs. Longbottom, had cleaned up the blood and guts and was attempting to help her out of the lobby to a room but she just couldn't stop crying. She had collapsed from exhaustion, taking Harry to the floor with her but having no intention of letting go of her death grip hug on him any time soon. Harry, for his part, had no desire to force her away. After seeing where she was, the condition of the other girls and what the Death Eater had been doing to her when he got there, he didn't care if she broke his ribs as long as she was alive. Having had limited success wrapping her up in Neville's cloak, Mrs. Longbottom transfigured it into a dress that appeared in place on her body. Harry appreciated this since he felt a little uncomfortable having his naked best friend hugging him in the most ferocious embrace of his life while in a room full of strangers.

The lobby floo port came to life and the lobby of St. Mungo's quickly become one of the most secure sites in England. The Weasleys came over to Harry and Hermione while the rest quickly set up both an inner and outer perimeter of defense, just in case. Mad-eye's mad eye was spinning at an almost painful speed checking all directions for any threat. Shacklebolt and Lupin were conferring with the staff to get their version of events since Harry and Hermione arrived. Molly, Arthur, Ron and Ginny were with Harry and Hermione. Neville had rejoined his grandmother who stood with him to one side. McGonagall also stood nearby.

"Harry!" cried Molly. "What on earth happened? How on earth did you get here so fast? Is she OK?" Molly didn't know what to do. One of her own was clearly not fine but was now safe.

"I don't know how I did it but I could feel Hermione just before I left. I knew where Riddle Manor was so I just needed to sense her a little for fine tuning." Harry paused for breath and then continued, gently stroking Hermione's hair all the while. "I apparated next to her and saw her, uh, I saw one of them..," he stopped, unable to speak it. Hermione cried louder and hugged him, if possible, tighter.

"Don't say it, Harry," said Mr. Weasley. He had put his hand on Harry's shoulder to comfort him. "Just go on. What happened when you got there?"

Harry took a breath and continued. "After I arrived, I don't know. I just lost it. The first one, the one on Hermione was reductoed. There were about a dozen or so Death Eaters in front of us and I used the septum sempra on them. Then I turned around and there were maybe ten more behind me. I burned them." There was a hush. Finally, Ron spoke.

"With that many in the room, how did you get away? Where they injured enough to give you time to escape or what?" he asked, unable to understand.

Harry took a deep breath. "I didn't "injure" any of them. Those I hit were cut in two. Waist high. All of them. The others were burnt to a crisp. I didn't leave any of them alive." He stopped, thinking of how many he had killed and having little or no regrets. "Anyway, the other girls were down on the floor so I missed them. I picked up Hermione and went over to them and we all came here," he finished.

This came as a bit of a shock to everyone. How had Harry apparated into a building that he had never seen the inside of before, apparently right next to Hermione, probably through anti-apparition wards? He then killed over twenty Death Eaters in a matter of seconds before side-along apparating four others through another anti-apparition ward at St. Mungo's. This would have been difficult for Dumbledore on a good day.

McGonagall had thought all this along with the rest but she had other problems right now. Stepping up to Hermione she asked, "Is there anything that we can do right now?" She seemed to be on the brink of tears.

Hermione, now cried out for the time being and having heard the story of her rescue for the first time, did not release Harry but turned to her headmistress and said "Please, Professor. Could you find my parents and bring them here?" She then turned back to Harry's shoulder.

McGonagall nodded. Wiping away her tears, she went to the floo port. Saying "Hogwarts. Headmistress's office." she was gone in a blur of green. She would need to look up the address.

By this time the healer felt that Hermione was calmed enough for a room. Looking at Arthur, she asked him if she could afford a private room or if she should go to the public ward.

Harry interrupted her. "She can afford the very best care. No expense is too great." After a moment he added, "That goes for the other three as well. They have suffered enough. If they want to stay with each other, that will be fine. If they want to be alone, that also will be fine. Send all bills to me."

He stood up with Hermione. She seemed to be calmer now. Harry looked over to Ron. "Ron? I think that you should take over now." Ron stepped up to Hermione who held onto Harry for a little while longer and then, like a logger jumping to a different tree, let go and clung to Ron. Ginny ran to Harry and took Hermione's place. Following the healer, they went to Hermione's room.

Upon arriving outside a private room, the healer turned to address them. "I need to make some preliminary examinations and would prefer it if you would wait outside. If Ms. Granger requests it, Mrs. Weasley can accompany us in lieu of her mother."

Hermione paused for a moment. She turned to Harry, a look of fear crossing her face for a moment. Then she took a breath and nodded towards Molly. The three of them entered the room and shut the door. Harry, Arthur and his children sat across the hall on some benches; Ginny next to Harry and Ron next to his dad, Arthur's arm on his son's shoulder. Finally, Ron spoke.

"Harry," he began. "I... I... just don't know what to say." He looked into his hands and seemed to choke back tears.

"I know, Ron," replied Harry. "I can't believe this happened to her either. I don't know what we would have done if we had lost Hermione. I just wish there was something I could do to help her deal with this." He looked at the floor, ashamed of his helplessness.

Ron looked at him astounded. "That's not what I meant, mate. I know that she has been through a lot today but it could have been a hell of a lot worse." He paused at the inadequacy of the words he had to say but could think of none better. "Thank you for saving her, Harry."

Harry was now the one at a loss for words. "You're welcome," was all he could say.

They sat in silence for a while when the healer finally opened the door. "You can come in now," she said softly. They entered the room. Hermione was in bed wearing a hospital gown, the covers over her. Molly was sitting next to her, holding her hand.

"Ms. Granger has given me permission to let you know her condition," she began. "She has sustained no injuries other than a few bruises. All residue from her attack has been removed and she has been checked for any diseases. She is not impregnated. From what I understand, her attacker is already dead so there will be no need for extensive auror reports. She should stay here the night and will be given potions to treat her for shock. It will be up to her and her parents to decide what counseling she will need to recover from the emotional trauma. That may take some time." She looked about as if waiting for any questions.

"She will be OK, then?" asked Ron. He had not wanted to read between the lines but the words "not impregnated" had removed all doubt.

"Eventually," replied the healer. "It will take some time but she has good friends to help her."

"The best," said Hermione, with a tearful smile. She had stopped crying for the most part and was now seeing that it could have been much, much worse. The thought gave her another concern. "Harry?" she said. He turned to her. "Have you checked on the other girls?"

Just like Hermione, Harry thought. "Not yet but they are being taken care of," he said.

"That's good," she said. "I only had a few minutes. They had days of... of.." She decided to change the subject a little. "Harry?" she said again. "How are you?"

Puzzled, Harry just said "I'm fine. Not a scratch on me." Surely she could see that.

"That's not what I meant. I mean you just killed quite a few men. You might need some counseling of your own," she said.

Harry thought about it. He had killed over twenty men in the most gruesome manner possible. Why didn't he feel bad about it. "I don't know why but it doesn't bother me very much. They had to die for you to live and that is all there is to it." Come to think of it, that was a pretty cold thing to say.

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "Right now you may think so but after you calm down, you might need someone to talk to," she said. "I'll be around if you need me."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry.

Hermione then took a couple of deep breaths and said "I want you to do something for me, Harry."

"Anything you want, Hermione," Harry replied. "Just say it." Harry would do whatever she asked.

"Harry, I want you to promise me that if I'm ever captured again, that you will not try to rescue me," she said, not quite looking at him.

Harry was stunned. "Hermione," he began in a pleading voice, "I can't promise that. I would always come for you if I could." How could she ask such a thing?

"Harry," she stated, now looking directly at him, "I was taken as bait to lure you into the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. If they had been able to use me to capture or kill you, I would never have been able to forgive myself. You are more important to the world than I am. You are the one who ..." She stopped, realizing what she was about to reveal. She recovered and said "You must stay safe and if it means I die, then so be it. Promise me you won't put yourself in danger on my account again." She now had her stern face firmly fixed. The others in the room sat perfectly still, as if statues.

Harry knew she meant it. He would not be able to get her to change her demands for his safety. Finally, he said "I promise, Hermione," with a defeated tone to his voice.

She looked at him closely. Did he mean it? Who knows? She would not press the point. She said "Thank you, Harry."

Harry looked at her and decided that she would get over him lying about this if he had to save her again. Harry knew, and she probably did also, that he would always come for her. If all he could do was die with her, he would do that.

After a moment he said "I guess I had better check on the others now."

With that he left the room. The healer went with him. As they walked out the door, Harry asked "Where can I find the other girls, miss ah, I guess I don't remember your name. Sorry."

She smiled at him. "I don't know if I ever gave it in all the commotion. I'm Healer Lisa Sealy. I can help you find the other girls." Harry followed her to the nearest healer station where she talked briefly to one of the healer assistants on duty. She turned to Harry and said "Follow me."

Two hallways away they found a large semi-private room. In it were three beds with the rescued girls in hospital gowns talking to a healer and each other. They had been given calming potions and seemed to be in fairly good spirits. Healer Sealy knocked on the door. "Excuse me, ladies. Harry Potter was wondering if he could come in and see how you all are doing."

"Harry Potter?" said one girl. She had a confused look that matched the others. "Why would he care about us?" she asked.

"Well, since he was the one who rescued you from those bastards, he was interested in your recovery," she concluded.

"Was that Harry Potter? I didn't recognize him," said the second girl. "Of course we would like to see him." It was odd that despite their recent ordeal, they straightened themselves up a bit to look their best.

Harry walked in and the three girls jumped up as one and rushed him. Besides the occasional "thank you" he could make out little of what they were saying. When they finally calmed down, they all took chairs or sat on the edge of the beds. They had quite a normal conversation, all things considered. Harry found out that they were all witches who were the daughters of people who refused the Death Eaters in some way or another. Their families had been killed and they were taken for the amusement of the Dark Lords servants. Two of them were sisters and had been held for about three weeks and the third was the daughter of an auror who was captured over a month ago. All were mal-nourished but otherwise fairly healthy. Apparently, the recent lull in Death Eater attacks had given their captors incentive to keep them alive longer than would be normal since few replacements would be available. After again giving thanks for his rescue and kind treatment, they parted.

In the hallway, Harry stopped a few feet from the door and said "Dobby." Dobby appeared.

"Dobby," Harry began. "You see that doorway?" He pointed at the girls' room.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir," replied the elf.

"How much gold is left in the house vault. Dobby?" asked Harry.

"There is no gold left in the house vault, Harry Potter," said Dobby.

"What? Never mind. I need a parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink," said Harry. Dobby produced the items without so much as a bead of sweat. Harry wrote a note and handed it to Dobby. "I want you to go to my room at Grimmauld Place and get the key to Sirius' vault. Then take this note and give it to the goblins. They will transfer gold into the house vault. After they do that I want you to get 5000 galleons for each of those girls in there. Then go to Madam Malkins and have four sets of robes, dresses, underclothes, hats and shoes made for each of them. You can bring a saleslady here if you need to. You will then help them find flats if necessary. I don't know if any of them has a place to stay anymore. If you can't find them someplace before they have to leave here, set them up at Grimmauld Place until other arrangements can be made. You will have to get me to tell them the secret if you take them there. If they ask, just say that Harry Potter appreciates all who fight against Voldemort and wants to see that they get on with their lives as best as they can."

Dobby left and Harry returned to Hermione's room. Her parents were there now and both jumped up when he entered.

"Thank you, Harry," sobbed Mrs. Granger, hugging Harry. She had been crying and although she tried to hold in her tears for her daughter's sake, it all started again when she saw Harry. Harry held her in return and finally helped her into her chair.

Mr. Granger then gave Harry a hug as well. "I can't tell you how thankful I am, Harry," he said. "You have no idea how I feel. Only a father can understand." He turned to Arthur who nodded.

"Mr. And Mrs. Granger," said Harry. "I want you both to know how terrible I feel for what happened to Hermione and if there is anything I can do for any of you, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Well for starters, you can call us Dan and Emma," said Emma. "Then I have yet to hear anyone tell me why they took our Hermione in the first place. Was it just a random act or was she the target?" she asked the room in general.

Ginny spoke first. "It wasn't random. It was a deliberate attempt to get to Harry." She paused and looked at first Hermione and then Harry before continuing. "Hermione and I were shopping for a birthday present for Harry and when we stepped out of Quality Quidditch Supplies, they stunned us both. I guess they took our wands because mine was gone when I came around. Anyway, they must have already taken Hermione away because she was gone when I was enervated. They told me to tell Harry that if he wanted to get his girlfriend back he had to come to Riddle Manor. They sent me home to deliver the message. I think they had us confused or they would have sent Hermione and kept me." The thought made her shiver. "I ran to the floo in the Leaky Caldron and came right home. I think you heard the rest," she finished.

"They didn't have us mixed up, Ginny," added Hermione. "Lucius Malfoy was there and he knows me. He said that they wanted my boyfriend. I wondered about that but later understood that they meant Harry, not Ron." She looked at Harry. "I wonder if they were taking those Daily Prophet articles seriously. They have had us dating for years."

"Probably," replied Harry. The Daily Prophet had been reporting about their "romance" since the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This new story would only add to the list. "I'm surprised that they don't have Rita Skitter here now, demanding the full story."

"I'm not," said Arthur, smugly. "You forget the security in place here. The Order has this hospital under the tightest security right now and it will remain that way until Hermione is back home. That reminds me. Where would you like to go when you leave here, Hermione? Your parents' house won't be too safe for a while." He thought for a minute. "Harry, the Burrow would be a little crowded with so many, not that we couldn't manage but perhaps your house would be better?" he asked.

"My house?" Harry replied, momentarily forgetting that he owned a house. "Oh, right. Sure, they can stay at my house as long as they want."

"Why would we need to stay there?" asked Emma. "What is wrong with our house?" She was not familiar with the current wizard war and did not see the danger.

"Because they think that your daughter is Harry's girlfriend and have just lost over twenty men to him," said Arthur. "They will not be happy and if killing his girlfriend's parents is the best they can do, they will do it. We will do what we can to keep you safe but you need a more secure place to stay than your house."

"I see," said Dan. He didn't know how to protect his family from wizards and it bothered him. Although it galled him to just run and hide, he would swallow his pride if his wife and daughter were safe. "OK. I guess we had better get a few things." He turned to Harry. "Where is this house of yours?"

"I'll have to formally tell you. It's one of the reasons it is safer than your house. Only those who have been told by me personally can see or find it," explained Harry. Harry told them the address of his house. He then excused himself and left the room. He found Lupin by the front entrance talking to Mad-eye.

"Excuse me, Remus," he started. "We need to get the Grangers to a safer location. Could you please help arrange their transportation to my house?"

"Sure, Harry," replied Lupin. "Mad-eye and I were just talking about their security. Do you know why they attacked Hermione?"

Harry paused. "Yes, but we can discuss it later, please," he replied. "Right now I just want everything arranged for when Hermione comes home tomorrow."

With a wave and a nod they left Mad-eye and returned to the room. Lupin introduced himself. Lupin and the Grangers left to pick up some of their and Hermione's things from their home and to notify their office that they would be gone until further notice.

Back in Hermione's room, the remaining residents were starting to calm down a bit. Ginny looked up and noticed the black dress on the hanger. "Who's dress is that?" she asked, pointing.

"It's Neville's," replied Harry. Everyone looked at him. He laughed and continued. "Well, Hermione wasn't exactly dressed for class when we arrived," stated Harry. Hermione blushed but the rest of them looked a little confused. "Well, all of them were, well, naked you see," started Harry, blushing a bit himself. "When we got here, we saw Neville and his gran right away and he offered his cloak. It didn't stay on very well so Mrs. Longbottom transfigured it into that dress. I suppose we should give it back to him."

"I don't know," said Hermione. "It fit pretty well. I might just get him a new one and keep it."

Harry and Hermione seemed to be the only ones who saw the humor in this for the time being as they were the ones who lived through the danger. Noticing this, Molly tried to change the subject again. "Did you have fun shopping, girls?" she asked. It was an odd question but she was trying. What could they say? Oh yeah, except for the Death Eaters we had a great time.

Ginny gave it a go. "Well, we had quite a lot of trouble finding something for Harry but we eventually found the perfect gift." She looked around automatically before feeling ludicrous. Obviously, the present was long gone. "I guess that it was left behind," she said sadly.

Hermione started to cry again. "Oh, Harry," she sobbed. He went to hold her hand. "Here you are saving me and I don't even have a birthday present for you now."

He didn't know whether to laugh or what. Who cared about a stupid present? She was safe and sound. That was all that mattered to him. "Don't worry about that," he said softly. Really, who cared?

"It was from both Ginny and me," she cried. She didn't know why it was so important but it was. "We both went in together and it was just perfect."

Harry thought he knew the problem and the solution. "I think you are just a little overwhelmed by everything and need to get some sleep," he said. "I think we should probably head out for a while and let you get some rest." He stood up and the others joined him.

"Ron," said Harry quietly. "You should probably stay with your girl."

"Oh, right," said Ron as he sat back down.

"We'll be back later tonight to check in on you," said Molly as she escorted everyone else out.

"Bye," said Harry.

"Bye," replied Hermione.

As they went out of the room, Arthur walked out of sight of the inside of the room and sat down. "I will stay on guard here," he said softly. The others nodded and continued.

When they got down to the lobby, Harry turned to Ginny. "Let's go find that present. It seems to mean a lot to her."

Ginny looked depressed. "Oh, Harry," she replied. That was hours ago. I doubt it is still there." She looked down. "Too bad, really. It was perfect for you and it tapped us both out."

Harry looked at her. "Were there more than one of them in the shop?" he asked. She nodded. "Well, then I am pretty sure we will "find" it whether it is there or not."

She grinned up at him and they left with Mad-eye and Shacklebolt in tow.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - Draco and the Girl

July 24, 1997

Harry spent the next couple of days away from the Fortress of Solitude. It wasn't that he was neglecting his quest. He just had some pressing concerns that needed his attention. He had arranged for the Grangers to stay in his house. The injuries that the other three girls had sustained required two days in St. Mungo's to treat plus they would need three visits per week for quite a while for emotional and psychological counseling. They all had relatives in the area who could take them in, for the time being. The money Harry had given them meant that they could take some time to recover and heal from their brutal ordeal. He would also cover the cost of all of their counseling sessions. To say that they were overwhelmed by his courage in saving them and generosity in looking after them would be an understatement. Harry had warned them all against mentioning anything about this and to keep as low a profile as possible to prevent Voldemort from targeting them again.

Hermione's recovery was, ironically, harder because her ordeal was easier. She had not witnessed her family murdered. She was not raped hundreds of times over several weeks. She had not suffered beatings and malnourishment. Her time as a captive amounted to less than a half hour. She was raped twice in that time. She was beaten by the first attacker to subdue her while several of his fellows held her. In any other context, this would be a brutal assault that would be reasonably hard to come to terms with. But when she compared her fate to the other girls, it was like complaining about a paper cut when someone next to you had their arm cut off. By not allowing herself to feel just as violated as the others, she was hampering her recovery. She was a mass of guilt. She felt guilty about being caught off guard and getting captured. She felt guilty about being raped, as if she could have prevented it in a room with twenty assailants. She felt guilty about being bait for Harry. She felt guilty that he had taken the bait and come to get her. She felt guilty about making Harry lie about not saving her again. She might as well have asked him to stop breathing. And mostly, she felt guilty about not being able to stop her sudden outbursts of crying. The other girls didn't do that. When Harry told her of his visit the next day, they had shown him the clothes that Dobby had brought them and talked to him normally about their plans now that they didn't think they would die in that bloody cellar. When she saw Harry, she burst into tears and she didn't know why. She felt guilty about that, too.

Harry, for his part, did the best he could to comfort Hermione. He made sure that Ron was around as much as possible. He thought that when Hermione felt vulnerable, her boyfriend should be the one to be there for her. Ron wasn't very good at the job. After a few minutes of having Hermione crying in his chest, he would be beet red and have to excuse himself. Of course, he felt a little insecure himself. He knew Harry was more powerful than he was but, blimey! Harry would then sit and talk to Hermione and reassure her, as the healers had instructed, that it wasn't her fault; that she was a wonderful person and what other people may have done to her didn't change that.

It was into one of these support sessions that Dobby popped in with the most unwelcome name on his lips since Voldemort.

"Harry Potter, sir," began Dobby. "Master Draco Malfoy is wanting to be seeing you."

"Malfoy!" raged Hermione. "It's his bloody Father that did that to me!" She got up and paced back and forth. "What the hell does he want?" she demanded.

Dobby recoiled and covered his head with his hands. This infuriated her even more, since she knew where he had learned that behavior.

"Dobby isn't knowing, Miss Granger," said Dobby. "Master Draco is only asking to see Harry Potter."

"Well, let's go see Master Draco, then!" shouted Hermione. She wanted to take her anger out on someone and it seemed that Draco had drawn the short stick.

"I don't think that ..," began Harry.

"I won't kill him!" said Hermione. She was seething. She didn't say anything about him not begging for death after she did do whatever she had in mind.

"Remember," said Harry. "He left that life before we caught him. Don't take out his father's sins on him."

Hermione glared for a moment more and then calmed down. "You're right," she said. He wasn't there. He could have been and decided to turn his back on them." She seemed to be disappointed. She had wanted some Malfoy blood and she knew where she could get some.

Harry looked at Hermione for a few seconds. He then said "I'll go see what he wants. You can stay here and"

"NO! Harry," said Hermione. "I have to face him sooner or later. You are right. He didn't do anything to me. He gave it up when there was nothing in it for him. I will not confuse him with his father." She looked calmer but Harry couldn't tell for sure. After a few more seconds, he nodded.

"OK, Hermione," he said. "We'll go together." He turned to Dobby. "Dobby, please take us both to the Fortress."

Both Harry and Hermione took Dobby's hands and with a pop, they were standing in front of Draco's cell. He was reading the Daily Prophet. The last two or three editions were in front of him. When he saw them, he stood up and motioned that he would like to speak to them. Harry had Dobby pop them into his cell.

"Thank you for coming, Harry," said Draco. Harry thought that it was the first time he could remember Draco calling him Harry. What was up?

"No problem, Draco," replied Harry. "I haven't been here for a couple of days and I needed to check on things anyway."

Draco looked at Hermione. Could it be a concerned look? He said "I don't know if Hermione needs to hear this," he began.

Immediately, Hermione fired up. "Oh, I don't do I?" she spat. "Well, I may only be a mudblood but I can understand that anything to do with any of our prisoners," she emphasized the word, "is something I need to hear about." Her face was fire truck red and her eyes were brimming with tear of fury.

"That's not what I meant," said Malfoy, backing away and raising his one arm in a calming gesture.

"Well, what the bloody hell do you mean?" asked Hermione, her anger remaining unchecked.

Draco looked between the two of them and said "I meant that what I need to ask might hurt you more than you already have been." His voice was quite low but they could hear him as if he had shouted.

Hermione didn't seem to calm down much but she remained quiet. She motioned Harry to carry on while she sat in one of the extra chairs. Harry and Draco followed suit.

Draco looked at Harry and said "I need to know," he said motioning towards the newspapers on his table. The headlines read "Daring Raid Cripples Death Eaters/Saves Witches", "Death Eaters in Panic", "Potter saves Naked Witches" and "What Really Happened".

Harry said "Your father wasn't there." He assumed that Draco wondered if his dad was among the dead.

Hermione was on her feet again when Draco said "That isn't what I want to know." He waited for Hermione to settle down again. "I need to know if... I mean, you saw my memory of the girl?"

Harry knew what he meant. He had seen the girl that had been brought in to Riddle Manor for the amusement of the recruits. He had heard her screams just as Draco had. "What about her?" he asked.

"Was she one of the girls that you rescued?" Draco asked, his faint voice with a strange pleading in it.

Harry looked at him as if for the first time. Gone was the swaggering Draco, the child of privilege, the son of Lucius Malfoy, the future Death Eater. Before him was a repentant young man who hoped that his nightmare had escaped her fate.

"Yes, she was," Harry said. "She..." He didn't finish. Draco had fallen to his knees and was sobbing.

"Thank God, thank God, thank God," he chanted. "I ran away when I saw what they were doing but I didn't think to take her until it was too late." Tears were spattering the floor. Hermione, who a few minutes ago would have cheerfully handed Draco his beating heart, now was on the floor next to him, comforting him.

"She's OK, now," she whispered, tears gleaming in her own eyes. "Harry has taken care of them all. They will be OK." She looked to Harry, not really knowing what else to do.

After a few minutes, Draco got himself under control. He stood up and then sat in the chair again. Hermione and Harry also sat back down. Then Draco asked them both "I would very much like to see her, please." He seemed almost desperate. "I have to apologize for what they did; for what I didn't do."

Harry and Hermione both looked at each other. They knew that this could be a turning point in the redemption of Draco. Could they even ask that poor girl to confront the son of the man who was in charge of her tormenters?

Harry and Hermione found themselves standing outside a middle-class brick house in London's east side. The neighborhood didn't have any particularly unusual characteristics that would lead one to believe that unusual people lived nearby. The house itself bore no outward signs of wizardness. Harry could feel the anti-apparition wards but knew that they were weak compared to the ones at Hogwarts or even Grimmauld Place. No, they knew it was a wizard house because they had taken Martha Murphy there after she was released from St. Mungo's. She was the Daughter of Minter Murphy, an auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who had been killed, along with his wife, by Death Eaters. Martha was taken to Riddle Manor where she stayed for over a month as a diversion for Lord Voldemort's Death Eater recruits. She was rescued a few days earlier by Harry Potter when, during a solo raid to rescue his friend, Hermione Granger, he had killed over twenty of the recruits and escaped with Hermione, Martha and two sisters, Jinny and Jazmera Jorgenson. The sisters went to stay with their Aunt in Kent while Martha went to live with her brother, Merehammer.

Harry rang the door bell. After several seconds, Martha answered the door. She was expecting them since Hedwig had delivered their request for a meeting. This house had no floo.

"Good Morning, Martha," said Harry, smiling. "How are you getting along?"

She smiled back. "I'm doing fine although that seems to upset my counselor," she mused as she ushered them inside. "She can't seem to understand why I am so happy. I told her to lock herself in a room with a few dozen serial rapists for a month and see how she feels when she gets out."

Hermione went pale and started to cry again. Immediately, Martha went to hold her. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said that in front of you." She really looked sad that she had caused Harry Potters girl, for that is how she saw Hermione, to break down.

"It's my fault," cried Hermione. "I just can't feel good about getting out of there. I'm not as strong as you, I guess." She regained control fairly quickly with both Harry and Martha's help.

"There are no rules on how you should feel," said Martha, sternly. "The other girls and I were wrecks for days after our capture. After a while, you accept that you are going to die and get used to the idea. When you are plucked from certain death, like we were, you just can't help being happy about it. You didn't have as much time to think about it so it will be different for you."

"That's the problem," said Hermione. "I wasn't there for thirty minutes and I am a mess. I have no right to feel this bad when you survived thirty days."

"Then feel good about the fact that your man came and got you before you got used to it," said Martha. "Believe me, I wouldn't have stopped snogging him yet." She smiled at Hermione and Hermione finally blushed and smiled, too.

"Harry is my best friend, not my boyfriend," she said, quietly.

"That's not what the papers all say," countered Martha. "I read that you have been an item for years."

"That's just Rita Skeeter's handiwork," said Harry. "She couldn't believe that we were as close as we are without a romantic component. Hermione is dating our other best friend and I am sort of dating his sister."

"Sounds cozy," said Martha, dryly. "So, what brings you by today?"

"Well," said Harry, "we have this ... What is he, Hermione?"

"It's a little hard to explain. We must first make it very clear that you can't tell anyone anything about what we are about to tell you. It would be very bad for us," said Hermione.

"I won't tell," agreed Martha. She was starting to really wonder what was about to happen.

"Well," began Harry, again. "He is someone who used to be one of my worst enemies. I just about killed him once and he tried to Crucio me." Harry paused and looked at Hermione.

"He was an evil little git and joined with You-know-who." She used the euphemism since she didn't want to cause the girl any grief. "Anyway, he was in Riddle Manor when you were brought in. He saw what happened to you and decided to leave You-know-who. We caught him a few weeks later. He is in a prison cell and wandless. He is not one of the ones who attacked you. He has requested to see you. We are here because we believe that he is ready to turn to the good side, once and for all. If you would consent to talk with him, it might save his soul. If you do not choose to do so, both he and we will completely understand."

Martha thought for a moment and then asked "He was in the cellar?"

"Yes."

"But he wasn't one of the Death Eaters?"

"He was a Death Eater but he didn't attack you."

"How can you be sure?"

"I saw his memory. He didn't attack you and deserted a day or so later."

Martha thought some more. She didn't ever want to see another Death Eater as long as she lived. However, Harry Potter had pulled her from the fires of Hell itself. If he just wanted her to talk to someone to save them, she felt an obligation to do so. "I'll speak to him," she said, finally.

They apparated into the cell area of the Fortress of Solitude. Martha looked around a little. This was a place very different from anywhere she was used to. The clear glass cells, the snake pillars, the obvious caveness of the place was quite unsettling. It reminded her faintly of the Riddle cellar. She instinctively pulled closer to Harry. They walked up to Draco's cell. Draco was standing in the middle, waiting patiently. Dobby had removed his version of the anti-apparition ward so Harry would be able to enter and leave the cell. Draco did not have Harry's ability to apparate through Hogwarts' wards so he couldn't leave anyway. Harry removed the silencing spell and signaled to Draco.

Draco walked up to the glass as Harry and Hermione backed a few paces to the side, still in view of Martha but allowing some privacy. "Are you Martha?" asked Draco, his voice a little hesitant. He looked very nervous about this meeting.

"Yes," she replied. She looked at him. "Are you related to Lucius Malfoy?" she asked, noticing the family resemblance. She looked a little colder than before.

Draco nodded and said "He is my father." He did not want to meet her eyes but finally forced them up.

"He was in charge of that place," she said, louder and quicker than before. "He raped me himself, more than once. He liked to watch, too." She was letting her anger out and, like Hermione, was letting Draco be an exemplar for his father and the other Death Eaters.

Draco lowered his gaze again. He knew that his father was evil and was responsible for this woman's tragic fate. He also knew that his father would never know remorse so it was up to him to confront her.

"I spent my whole life trying to live up to what he expected of me. I became a cruel, evil git like him, took the dark mark and proudly accepted an assignment from the Dark Lord to find a way to kill Dumbledore. I succeeded in that and betrayed the greatest wizard I will ever know." He paused for a moment. He was clearly having a hard time saying this. Martha looked on, waiting for him to say something about why he wanted to see her.

"It wasn't until I arrived at Riddle Manor, when I saw and spoke to the types of wizards and witches who chose to be the rank and file Death Eaters that I really saw the person I had become. My father had always been very close to the Dark Lord. He had power and prestige. But for the most part, the Death Eaters are cruel, vile little brainless wanna-bes that hoped to get to have an outlet for their depravities. They got that when you were brought in." Again Draco stopped. He was getting close now.

"Why did you want to see me?" asked Martha. She had stopped being mad at Draco. He was, after all, not his father. It seemed that he didn't want to be like him, either.

"When I saw what they did to you, what they wanted me to do, I knew that I could not; would not; be one of them. I saw you ..." He stopped again, turning away from her.

Martha looked at Harry. "Is there someplace that we could talk a little more privately?"

Harry looked confused at first. They were a mile below ground in an apparition warded cave only physically accessible by a parselmouth. They were not likely to be interrupted. Hermione knew what she wanted.

"You want to see him somewhere without us?" she asked.

"Yes, please," replied Martha. She didn't seem to feel any fear or anger towards Draco now and was starting to understand why she was brought here. Draco watched silently.

"Let me have your wand," asked Harry, "just in case." He didn't want to take any chances.

"I didn't get a new one yet," she said. She, like Hermione and Ginny, had her wand taken upon her capture.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry. "Where would you like to talk to him. Inside his cell is not too bad but I can bring him out if you prefer."

Martha looked through the glass to the furnishings in Draco's cell. It looked comfortable enough. "Inside would be fine," she said.

"Dobby," said Harry. With the usual few seconds delay for Dobby to realize that Harry was in the Fortress, Dobby appeared.

"What is Harry Potter needing?" asked Dobby.

"Please bring some butterbeer and a few biscuits to Draco's cell for Miss Murphy and him," said Harry. Dobby popped away.

"We will be on the other side of the hallway. Just call when you are finished. We will hear," said Harry. He held out his arm and she grabbed hold. "It's a little different in here so hang on." With that, he apparated into Draco's cell.

Speaking to both Draco and Martha, he said "Hermione and I will be across the hall. We will probably only hear the usual odd word from that distance. You may talk in confidence. I do not yet feel comfortable leaving you totally alone." Thinking for a second he added "Bloody hell, I sound like a chaperone." They all laughed a little at this. Harry smiled and apparated back to Hermione.

He summoned their chairs from the office and they sat down. Harry saw Dobby bring the refreshments. It appeared that Draco thanked him and this had surprised Martha. Her family probably didn't have house-elves but she would know how they were usually treated, especially from a family such as the Malfoys.

Harry and Hermione watched carefully. They had taken responsibility for her safety. It was unlikely that Draco would be so stupid as to attack her here, in sight of Harry, but you never know.

Inside the cell, Draco had picked up a glass of butterbeer and Martha had joined him. He seemed to try to gather his thoughts and she sipped patiently, waiting.

"I appreciate you making the effort to see me," he began. "I have to first apologize to you."

Martha was surprised. "They told me that you weren't one of the ones who ..." she trailed off.

"I wasn't. But I was there," said Draco. "It was the sight of you, your screams that forced me to leave behind that life." He put the glass down and looked away from her again. "I left when I had the chance but I realized afterwards that I should have taken you, too." A tear formed in his eye and he had to pause again.

"How could you have done that?" she asked. "There were loads of Death Eaters in that room. Probably dozens outside, as well. You would never have gotten me out."

"It doesn't matter. I should have tried," said Draco, his voice rising. "I could hear your screams in my nightmares every time I fell asleep. I left you there and was too scared to come back to save you."

"Nobody could save me," she countered. She saw Draco look over her shoulder and she looked, too. She saw Harry. Turning back she smiled and said "Well, almost nobody. He didn't come for me, anyway; just her."

"He didn't leave you, though," replied Draco. "He didn't have a chance in hell of saving her, either, but he came, anyway." Draco looked thoughtful. "I hope to have courage like that, someday."

Martha looked at Draco. "You are confronting your whole life and finding it wanting. You are trying to do something about it. You are trying to make amends with your past. This takes courage and don't you ever forget it." She stopped and decided what had to be said, the reason he had brought her here. "I forgive you for not saving me. I am glad that you are changing your life and if my torture has brought even this much good to the world for someone, it was worth it."

Draco sat in silence for a minute. He had wanted just this; an acceptance of his apology. He had not thought that it would have such an effect on him. He took a few more seconds to compose himself and then said "Thank you. I will try to make myself a better person, if only to justify your confidence." He then added "I don't really have any means of changing things anyway, but are you being taken care of now?"

"Yes, I am," replied Martha. "Your friend has made sure that I have everything I need. Time will take care of the rest."

"My friend?" asked Draco, confused.

"Harry Potter," said Martha.

"Oh," said Draco, "that friend."

"He has the same trouble you have," said Martha. "He didn't want to call you "friend" either. He is, though, or he wouldn't have taken the time to bring me here. I'm glad I came, Draco. I feel better now, myself."

"It was nice to see you are getting along," said Draco. "When this is all over, I would be pleased to call you "friend" as well." He shook her hand and she gave him a quick hug.

She signaled to Harry that they were done. Harry and Hermione apparated in and, with a quick goodbye to Draco, they were gone.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - Grampa's Present

The night of July 24th

Later that night, Harry was sitting in bed, looking through Dumbledore's notebook. Dumbledore's painting, however, noticed something missing; he wasn't turning the pages or even looking at the book.

"What's on your mind, Harry," asked Grampa.

Harry looked up and waited a second to answer until his mind made the million mile journey back. "Oh, hello, Grampa," he said. "I was thinking about what happened today with Malfoy and Martha."

"And what were you thinking?"

"I was wondering about the possibility that one event could so drastically change your outlook on life that you would turn your back on the past and start over." Harry had told Grampa about Draco's inquiry into the fate of the girl in his memory, his desire to speak with her, the observations made during their private interview and the request from Martha afterwards that, if he had the opportunity, to give Draco a second chance.

"You need to find out if the desire is genuine or false, deep seated or fleeting. I assume that you have verified is previous information with veritaserum by now?"

"Yes. He has been telling the truth. We even asked him that question. He said that he wanted to change. I just can't seem to be sure if we should trust him. And what would we do if we did?"

Grampa frowned. "I see the extent of the problem. If he had turned and wanted to be on the right side, what could he do? He is a known traitor to Voldemort. He is a known murder accomplice, my murder to be precise, to the Order of the Phoenix and his school mates. What, indeed, should be done with Mr. Malfoy?" Grampa frowned even deeper.

After a few moments thought, he said "Harry?" He waited for Harry to reply.

"Yes, Grampa?"

"I am going to ask you to speak to Minerva. I am willing to forgive Draco for his part in my murder. I think that I am correct in assuming that you believe his change is genuine?"

Harry nodded.

"I trust your judgement. Your past history with Mr. Malfoy would indicate that any doubt at all would be enough to reserve such a generous opinion. Therefore, I want you to ask Headmistress McGonagall to disguise Draco and let him finish his last year at Hogwarts."

"Disguise him?" asked Harry. "I thought that any transfigurations of living beings had to be short term to prevent permanent damage?"

"And you would be correct," replied Grampa. "I was thinking along the lines of a muggle disguise. Perhaps dyeing or otherwise changing his hair, glasses, a spell or two to make him less noticeable, that sort of thing."

"I see," said Harry. "What should we do about his arm? We can't put it back on with the dark mark still there."

"Voldemort is not the only wizard that can replace a lost hand or arm, Harry," replied Grampa. "You will find that Minerva is aware of the required spell and, with a little coaching, you will be able to perform it."

"Me?" asked Harry. "Why not her?"

"Power, Harry," replied Grampa. "Again, such a thing requires fantastic amounts of power for it to be permanent."

"I see," said Harry. Ever since he had saved Hermione and the other girls, he had known that his power was far greater than he had allowed himself to believe. He could remember what it had felt like to use it to it's full extent. There was one nagging question, though. "Grampa?" he asked. "I could feel something more than magic going through me when I killed all of those Death Eaters. It was something different but I think I felt it before. I don't know how to describe it."

Grampa sat back and considered his response. "Did you feel this when you drove away the dementors by the lake?" he asked.

Harry thought for a moment and then said "That's it! It was there that I felt this before." He looked at Grampa. "How did you know?" he asked.

"The conditions were similar. You had to use your power to save a loved one," said Grampa. "Then it was Sirius, Hermione and yourself. This time it was just Hermione. In both cases, it was your love that magnified your magical ability to such a high level."

Harry had no problem with the assertion that he loved Hermione. She was, after all, his best friend and if his love for her was the catalyst for his greater powers, he was relieved. At least he would always be able to keep her safe.

"I understand, Grampa," he said. "I just don't know if I can always draw on it or if someone that I love has to be involved."

"It's a little like a patronus, Harry," said Grampa. "You have to imagine combining your magic with the love you feel to achieve the required results."

"I think I can do that, now," said Harry. "I know what it feels like and I can do a patronus so I feel confident that I can make it work."

"That's good, Harry," said Grampa. "I would like to try it out tomorrow at your hill near the Burrow. I would also like for you to take that little silver ball I gave to you a while back. It might be time for you to use it."

"What does it do?" asked Harry. "He had forgotten all about the ball on the chain but Grampa's reminder caused his curiosity to be engaged.

"You'll find out tomorrow," saidGrampa. "Consider it my early birthday present." He would say no more about it so Harry said his goodnights and went to sleep.

The next morning, Harry, the portrait of Dumbledore and the silver ball apparated to the hill that Harry had been practicing on. He set the frame against a nearby tree and turned to the hill. He warmed up with a few normal reductos just to get loosened up. He then thought of his love for Ginny and tried again. The first few times, he saw no difference. The craters were about the same as before and the spell lasted the three or four seconds that he was used to. He modified his thoughts. He imagined that the hill had attacked Ginny. He tried again and the reducto lasted for about seven or eight seconds but was no more powerful than before. Again, he modified his thoughts and imagined Ginny buried beneath the hill. This had more results. The spell lasted fifteen seconds and the crater looked more like a mine shaft. He did this a few more times and turned to speak with Grampa.

"I see what you mean," he said. "I had to think just how to frame my love for Ginny but it eventually caused the spell to be very powerful."

Harry shot another blast into the hill. It did seem very powerful. He had a thought and voiced it to Grampa. "Grampa?" he asked, "why would love add to the power of a destructive spell? I thought love was about serenity and peace and all that."

Grampa laughed. "Love cannot be constrained by one facet. You are speaking of the hot-cocoa-by-the-fire type of love. It is nice but it is not particularly powerful. If you want to see the power of love, try to hurt a baby in front of his mother. You will quickly discover the power of a mother's love as she hands you your spleen. It is that aspect of love that will aid you now. The power of life is greater still, as you have been party to. Your own mother's love of you and willingness to give her life for you made an unblockable curse from a great wizard rebound on him. That is harder. You have an unlimited amount of love but only so much life. Using the power of life is something that is nearly impossible to practice, because of this limitation. For now, just try to incorporate love into your magic."

Harry thought about this and decided to turn back to the task at hand. He thought once more of using his love of Ginny. He put a few more shafts in the side of the hill.

Eventually, Grampa spoke. "Very good, Harry," he said. "Why don't you try it while thinking of Hermione?"

Harry didn't understand but tried to think of his love for Hermione while sending a reducto. It was not as big a shaft as before. He imagined the room that she was held in was under the hill and tried again. This time, the reducto did not stop. The force excavated a shaft that was about thirty feet deep before Harry stopped the spell.

"Why did that work so well?" he asked the portrait.

"How did you frame your love?" asked Grampa.

"I imagined Hermione in the cellar of Riddle Manor and that it was under the hill. I needed to get under the hill to save her," he finished. "That is pretty much how I envisioned it with Ginny, too. She didn't cause the same amount of power, though. Do you have an explanation?"

Grampa thought about it. "I think it is because you have actually seen Hermione in that situation and could only imagine Ginny. That might make the difference."

Harry thought about that and turned back to the hill. He alternated between Ginny and Hermione and was able to get spectacular results with either girl. The biggest reductos, however, always came when he was concentrating on Hermione. He chalked it up to the fact that he didn't have to imagine seeing her in danger. She was right in front of him and he could remember it quite clearly.

It wasn't long after that that Ginny came out to be with him. Experience had told her to skirt the hill to prevent getting obliterated by a stray shot. When Harry saw her he stopped what he was doing until she was next to him.

Noticing the tremendous holes in the hill, she said "It looks like you are improving."

"Yes, I am," agreed Harry. "Grampa and I were working on a way to incorporate love into spells to increase their intensity."

Ginny was in on the secret about Dumbledore's portrait. "So how does that work?" she asked.

"It is hard to do," said Harry. "I have to let the love I feel for someone flow through me. So far, I have only been successful if I think the hill is somehow hurting them or preventing me from getting to them. For example; I'll imagine that you are trapped under the hill and need me to get to you." He then paused a moment to prepare himself and let loose with a very solid twenty second reducto.

Ginny was impressed. "That was some reducto!" she exclaimed. "It looks like you have been doing a few of those." She motioned at the side of the hill, now pocked with holes. "It looks like you were doing better before I got here," she said, pointed at the larger shafts.

Harry, clueless as ever on the way to talk to his girl, said "I was thinking of Hermione when I did those." He performed another reducto, this time waiting for about thirty seconds before choosing to stop. Ginny could tell he could go on if he wanted to. When he thought of her, it had just faded out.

Her first impulse was to confront him and maybe curse him. A look at the side of the hill wiped that idea away. She thought about running home in tears but decided that that would accomplish nothing either. She decided on the direct approach. "Harry?" she asked. "Why are the holes you make when you think of Hermione so much bigger and deeper than the ones you make when you think of me?" She tried her best to not sound hurt.

"We were just talking about that" said Harry.

"Who was?" asked Ginny.

"Grampa and me," replied Harry, indicating the portrait that Ginny had failed to notice.

"Oh," said Ginny. "And what did you decide?"

"We think it might be because I have seen Hermione in immediate mortal danger more than once and don't have to imagine it much. With you, I have to concentrate on making it seem real," replied Harry.

This made Ginny feel much better. Of course, he had many more examples to choose from with Hermione. Ginny had not been with him on most of his dangerous adventures. She decided to take his explanation at face value for now.

About then, Grampa spoke up. "Excuse me, Harry, Miss Weasley," he said. "I think that Harry should try the next item we wanted to pursue today."

Harry pulled out the rolled up socks he had in his pocket. He extracted the ball and chain and examined it again. He still noticed nothing unusual about it.

Dumbledore said "This, Harry, is a stored spell sequence. The result will be something that I hope will be of extreme benefit in both defending yourself against Death Eaters and helping prevent others from wanting to join their ranks. Before I continue, I must ask Miss Weasley to promise to not say anything about what she will see and here to anyone. It must remain secret until the proper time. Naturally, Ron, Hermione, Remus and Tonks are exempt."

"I understand," said Ginny. "It Harry wants, I can return home." She looked up at him and wondered if he would accept her offer.

"No, Ginny," he said, "you can stay. I don't know what it will do either and I might need your help."

"Thanks, Harry," she said. She didn't want to admit it but she was glad to be there, when something important was about to happen. She was even happier that Hermione wasn't around.

"Very well, Harry," began Grampa. "This spell sequence will make you an animagus."

Harry was stunned. His father and Godfather were both animagi. They had used their forms to control their other best friend, Remus, during his transformations into a werewolf. He expected that the ability was of use in other ways, as well. But why did he have to wait so long to use the orb?

"Grampa," said Harry. "I appreciate the effort that went into this. I do not understand the delay in using it. My father and Sirius were both able to make themselves animagi when they were much younger than I am. Why did you have me wait until I was at full power?"

"It was not your power so much as your ability to imagine yourself as powerful," explained Grampa. "You see, size does not matter so much with animagi. Your father and Sirius were both large animals because they were powerful wizards and wanted large alter-egos. Rita Skitter and Peter Pettigrew both had very small animagi forms because they were not as powerful and were more interested in stealth. Minerva chose a cat because she likes cats. She was quite powerful enough to be a lion, if she chose. You see, Harry, you can only choose your form once. It will always be that way, no matter what. Larger forms need more power to pull off."

Harry thought about the various animals he had seen and tried to think of one that would be useful against Death Eaters. Grampa had said that he could be something that would make some choose to not join Voldemort at all. "Grampa?" he asked. "What form did you have in mind?"

"Let me whisper it to you," he said. "I want to see if it has the proper surprising effect on Ginny, here." He smiled at her. Harry bent low to the picture and Grampa whispered something that Ginny could not hear. Harry looked up, astounded at first and then changed into an evil smile as he looked at Ginny. She didn't like the way things were going.

"OK, Harry," said Grampa. "You must imagine in great detail not just the shape of the creature but the size and abilities. Since you will be able to fly, you must imagine it doing so. See the wings. Feel the wind on your hide. Imagine everything about it. See exactly how it will look in your mind's eye. When you are doing that perfectly, hold the ball in your hand, touch it with your wand and utter the spell "Activo Sequencium Animagus." This will start the ball rolling, so to speak. Then, you must imagine the creature exactly until the spells are all cast. This is very important."

He then turned to face Ginny. "Ginny, under no circumstances is Harry to be disturbed during this time. It will only take one or two minutes but you can't scream or otherwise cause him to lose his concentration. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "In fact, I understand enough to know that I don't want to be the one to bugger this up. I will go home and make sure you are not disturbed, Harry," she said.

Harry didn't disagree and said he would be along shortly.

Harry watched Ginny walk away and decided she was right; he didn't need any distractions right now. He held the ball in his left hand and his wand in his right. He tried to picture the creature that Grampa suggested. He concentrated until he could see it in all it's various positions. He could see it doing everything it was capable of doing. When he felt confident in his vision, he touched his wand to the ball and said the spell. He then went back to the vision. He concentrated on it as he heard the uttering of many incantations in Dumbledore's voice. He didn't try to listen. All that mattered was the vision. It had to be perfect. He had to remain focused.

Suddenly, all was quiet. The ball had stopped emitting it's series of spells. All that was left was to try the transformation. Harry uttered the incantation in his mind. He felt himself leaping into the air. He was forty; sixty; eighty feet in the air. He didn't feel like he was flying, though. His feet were still on the ground. He uttered the counter-spell and returned to normal.

Grampa, who had his frame facing Harry was beaming. He looked at Harry and said "I like the colors."

Harry smiled back and said, "I thought you would."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - Harry's Birthday

July 31, 1997

Harry's birthday happened to fall on a Thursday. Harry would be coming of age this year so Molly insisted on having a party with as many of Harry's friends as possible. She was a little surprised when Harry did not argue but chalked it up to his having had enough experience with her to know that resistance was futile. Oddly, the horrible incident with Hermione had almost guaranteed that Voldemort would not attack. As Lupin and Shacklebolt both explained, Voldemort had been laying low in order to lure one of Harry's close friends into a trap. The trap worked and Hermione was taken to the Voldelmort stronghold of Riddle Manor. Their wildest dreams came true and Harry came alone to a room with over two dozen Death Eaters. Then it all went to hell and all the Death Eaters were killed. The first ones who broke through the granite in the door would find fourteen of their comrades in about twenty-eight pieces. Eleven more had been charred beyond recognition. The splatter of the last one coated everything with Death Eater guts. It would take more than a few days for Voldemort to convince the surviving Death Eaters to attack Harry on his turf while surrounded by the Order of the Phoenix. Moody wasn't happy but couldn't fault the analysis.

The day started normally enough. Harry flooed over from Grimmauld Place to eat breakfast with the rest of the family. Everyone wished him a happy birthday. Hermione and her parents ate breakfast at Grimmauld Place so as not to overload the Weasley kitchen. They were planning to apparate with Fred and George to the Burrow in time for the party. Harry told them that if Hermione wasn't up to it, to not worry about a stupid party but all three of them were hearing none of it. Hermione had told her parents that she was going and they had better get used to the idea. Besides, Hermione was looking forward to a nice party out in the sun. She and her parents thought it would do them all some good.

Arthur went to work with a promise to get off in time for a late afternoon party. Harry spent the morning visiting with Ginny and Molly. Ron flooed to Grimmauld Place to be with Hermione. Ginny and Harry had a pleasant time after lunch. They took a walk around the pond and found a perfect spot for a little snogging. Both teens were able to forget the world for a while, at least.

Ginny finally noticed something. "Harry?" she asked. "You seem to be a lot happier this birthday than normal. You look like you are actually looking forward to your party."

Harry smiled and said "Well, I am coming of age and everything. I've spent the afternoon snogging with a beautiful girl. I'm with my family and everything seems to be coming together this year. My fight against Voldemort is more organized and focused than ever and it just seems like anything is possible." He then thought, "And there is the fact that this will truly be a surprise party.'

About five o'clock, the guests started to arrive. It was basically just family. At least the people Harry considered family. The Weasleys minus Percy and Charley. Charley was too far away and Percy was a git. Remus was there with Tonks. Luna Lovegood had arrived wearing her usual butterbeer cork necklace. Neville was brought by his grandmother's house-elf since he wasn't the best apparator by a long shot. The Grangers arrived with the help of Fred and George who side along apparated the muggles. Hagrid had flown down on a thestral. Harry had summoned Dobby and Winky and ordered them to sit and enjoy the party like everyone else. He thought it might kill Winky.

Mrs. Weasley raised her voice a little when she saw that everyone was there. "Everyone out to the back yard. We are eating under the trees."

They assembled at the picnic tables fairly quickly and the dinner was begun. Mrs. Weasley, an excellent cook on any day of the week, outdid herself. Five large roast turkeys fed the bulk of their appetites but there were enough side dishes and fresh, hot-out-of-the-oven rolls to fill in the corners. Dessert was, of course, treacle tart; Harry's favorite.

They decided by mutual consent to wait on the cake until after the presents had been opened. Harry received several nice modest presents plus the broom humidor from Ginny and Hermione. After all his presents were opened, Harry stood to speak.

"My friends," he began but stopped himself. "No, my family. I am very thankful that all of you have come to my coming-of-age party. I want to thank you all for your wonderful presents. It has been the high point of my life to be accepted as an honorary Weasley and to know that there is a spot in the world which I can call home."

A round of clapping and kind words followed with a few tears from Mrs. Weasley.

Harry continued, "As some, but not all, of you know, I am working on something very important and extremely dangerous. Indeed, we have been working on it for over a month now, already. I say we because my great friends Ron and Hermione are working with me. We will be traveling to who knows where and doing all sorts of potentially dangerous things. It is possible that all of us might not always return. If my friends would allow me, I would leave them safe at home but they will not desert me."

A hush fell over the crowd and, once again, crying from Molly.

Harry said "But today is a day to celebrate. I wish to celebrate the life and friendships we have together while I am still able. I can not tell you how much you all mean to me but I can try to show you. Today is my birthday but I want to spend it giving presents that I think you may want or need to each of you. Sorry, Tonks. When I come up with something you need besides psychoanalysis, you'll get it."

General laughter.

Harry started. "To the youngest Weasley, Ginny. You have been a source of great comfort for me these last few months. While I still feel that I am too dangerous to be your boyfriend, at least in public, I want you to know that I will always help you to pursue your heart's desire. I hope your heart's desire is to kick the Slytherin quidditch teams butt." He handed her a long package. She unwrapped her new firebolt.

"Harry!" she screamed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You can bet I'll drive those slugs into the pitch with this!" she cried excitedly.

Molly stood up. "Genevra Weasley! That is way too much of a present. It isn't even your birthday. I don't think you can accept it." She seemed really put out but Harry didn't care.

Before Ginny could speak, Harry said "Mrs. Weasley. It is my birthday and you must be nice to me and accept my gifts. I don't know if I will survive this task I am starting but I will have my family and friends know that I love them very much."

Molly wasn't happy but decided to sit down. Arthur sat next to her and tried to get her to lighten up.

"Next, we have the youngest Weasley brother, Ron. Well, since I consider myself to be an honorary Weasley, that would make me the youngest brother but then I couldn't date Ginny so just forget that last part." More laughter. "To my brother Ron, I know you like the back of my hand. You eat, drink and breathe quidditch. To you, I give these." He held out an envelope.

Ron opened it to find lifetime season box tickets for twelve for the Chuddley Cannons. "Twelve?" he asked, with a shocked look on his face.

"I figured with your genes, I had better be safe," replied Harry. Laughter all around again. Ron gave Harry a quick hug and sat back down.

Harry resumed his trip up the Weasley family tree. "To Fred and George, you have and are providing enormous help with my current project. I expect to have my life saved at least once due to your efforts. I have two presents but only one is with me tonight." He handed them the large envelope with their names on it. "This is the deed to the store next to you. You will need the space because, with the help of Mr. Lovegood, the major European papers and magazines will be running advertisements for your store for the next year. Plan on being busy."

Fred and George were totally shocked. This present would put them years ahead of their schedule. "Harry!" said George, still shocked.

"This is just unbelievable," said Fred, and added "Brother."

"That's it!" said George. "We're upping your family discount to 20." Faint laughter. This was a really big present.

Harry didn't wait. "Bill and Fleur. I have seen more courage and sacrifice from the two of you than almost anyone else I know. Bill, you gave up a very lucrative and relatively safe job to come home to fight Voldemort. For your trouble you lost income and had your face almost ripped off. Fleur showed the true measure of her character when she saw past the scars to see you were still in there. I spoke with your friends at work and they told me that you were looking for a place to start a family. You know that house you were looking at a couple of weeks ago? It's a really nice place." He handed Bill an envelope with his and Fleur's name. "I want you to know that Ragnok and Gringotts is responsible for half of that. Ragnok spoke very highly of you."

Bill looked at the paid deed to his and Fleur's dream house.

"Thanks, Harry," was all Bill could say. Fleur kissed Harry and gave him a big hug.

"Back off, sis!" growled Ginny, a smile on her face. Again, general laughter.

"Mr. Weasley," began Harry. "You are a nutter when it comes to muggles." Real laughter and general comments of agreement. "I asked my muggleborn friend's parents to find something for me and they came through." He gestured to the Grangers and they reciprocated. "Unfortunately, it is a real present and not an envelope so you will have to actually unwrap it."

Arthur came over and looked at the long box. It was about a foot high by nine inches deep by almost a yard long. He ripped the paper off and read the box. He then turned to Harry with a huge grin on his face. "Harry, this is fantastic!" he cried. He then turned back to the box as everyone else looked at it. The printing on the box stated that it was a 24 volume set of books called "How it Works. Simple explanations on how everyday things actually work." This was the perfect gift for the muggle lover.

"Thank you, Harry. This is just fantastic!" he repeated. Harry thought he saw tears in his eyes.

"Mrs. Weasley," began Harry. "I have never felt like anything other than your son from the moment we met. You have taken me into your home and heart and fed me way too much food." Laughter, of course. "I know how you miss your children and how they will hate me for this but when I saw it, I thought of you." He handed her a small wrapped package.

She opened it and held up the portkey necklace. "It's beautiful, Harry. But I don't see why my children will be upset."

Harry handed her the other package and said "This is why. Open it up, too." Molly opened the other box to see the finely crafted set of six rings and one necklace. Harry indicated the necklace still in Molly's hands. "This is a portkey necklace. It is good for about two trips per day, anywhere in the world. The catch is it has to go to one of these." He indicated the rings and other necklace. "I have already enchanted them for you. Just touch your necklace with your wand and say "Transportus" and the name of one of your children and you will appear in front of them, wherever they are. Use the same spell and say "home" and you will appear in front of the case."

Molly looked at the necklaces and rings and began to cry. She gave Harry a big hug and then started handing out the rings. When she got to Percy's, she cried harder. Harry came up behind her and whispered "He won't be gone forever. Just keep it for him."

"We can send Charley's by owl," she said.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I couldn't think of a present for Charley yet, either. I don't have too many good feelings since the last time we met, he brought a huge dragon to kill me."

This time the laughter was quite genuine. The twins looked ready to kill Harry. They weren't very happy, knowing their mother could find them whenever she wanted.

Molly looked at Harry and asked "Where's yours, Harry?" At Harry's blank face she added "I want a ring for "all" of my sons." Harry shed a few tears this time. He hugged Molly again.

"Moving on," said Harry, finally. "I'll be damned if my dad's and Sirius's best friend is dressing in rags anymore. You are out of the underground business." He turned to give Remus his envelope and stopped. "I think I have your present after all, Tonks," he said, a smirk on his face as he handed her the envelope.

She opened it to find a gift card for Remlick's Wizard Clothiers, a very upscale wizards clothing store. Tonks smiled and said "Thanks, Harry. I'll get him in shape."

Remus put on a disgusted face and said "Thanks a heap, kid. One of the many advantages of dressing like I do is you can get away with shaving only every third day or so." His face transformed to a smile as he added "She'll probably make me comb my hair, too."

"For Luna, whose strange way of viewing the world has more than once helped me to see clearly, I have done something that I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would do. I designed a dress." The silence was deafening. "Actually," he continued, "I decorated a dress. Madam Malkin designed the dress. When we went to Professor Slughorn's party last Christmas, I thought you looked pretty good in your dress. It was sort of outlandish but so are you. Anyway, I thought that I could just go with that theme and give you a new dress that will show you as I see you; a unique but beautiful girl that is always hiding one more surprise." He handed her the box and she opened it to find her dress. It was a velvety black covered with large swashes of jewels that appeared different as the dress was turned. It was not entirely random, however. The colors worked in unison so that each change was a slow sweeping from one color to the next with all colors visible from any angle at any particular time perfectly coordinated with the other colors. As Luna turned the dress, it radiated all the colors of the rainbow and never appeared the same from one moment to the next. Luna seemed to be enchanted by the ever-changing colors.

"I am thankful to have a friend such as you, Luna," said Harry. "You fought against Death Eaters twice now but you still are you. Never let them change you, Luna."

Luna ran to Harry and gave him a kiss and said "I won't change if you won't, Harry." A hug later, she sat down, her dress draped over her lap.

"Neville has, like Luna, also been a loyal friend in need. He also fought twice against the forces of Voldemort. He has show time and again the wisdom of the sorting hat in placing him in Gryffindor. Both times he fought Death Eaters he was wounded. I have no doubt that he will fight them again, if necessary." There were general nods and comments of agreement. Neville blushed. "I want him to get through the next battle in one piece. Therefore, I have this present for him." He handed him his box. Neville opened it to reveal a full length, midnight-black set of dragon-hide robes complete with pants, boots, vest and gloves. Neville tried on the robes and they made him look much more confident. It would take more than a simple curse to get through these clothes.

"Thanks a lot, Harry. Maybe I can even get through Hagrid's classes now without having to go see Madame Pomfrey," he said, laughing. He was joined by those who knew him. They didn't say it but they figured he would still find a way to get hurt.

"Speaking of Hagrid," said Harry, "it is a well know fact that you could not possibly care less about the law or even reality when it comes to dragons." The crowd went absolutely silent. Harry was giving out the perfect present to everyone and the perfect present to Hagrid would be a dragon. Surely, he wasn't..., he couldn't..., he wouldn't..."

"Hagrid," said Harry, ignoring the terror on the faces of his friends, "open these." He handed the half-giant two packages. The first held a book. The second held...an egg! Hagrid read the book's title: The Care and Handling of the Australian Reefskimmer. "The Department of Exotic and Dangerous Creatures has issued you a license to own this dragon due to your experience and for it's educational value. It is a pygmy dragon that will only grow to about ten feet long. It will also obey you if you follow the instructions in the book. It is the only tame dragon breed known."

Hagrid ran to Harry and gave him a bone-crushing hug. "I don't know wha ter say, Arry," he said. "I'll do my best to make this little guy a good dragon." He gave Harry another hug and sat down.

"I know I should have invited Madame Pomfrey," said Harry, rubbing his ribs. The comment was only half in jest; Hagrid knew how to give a hug.

Harry decided to move on. "Dobby and Winky," The elves appeared before him. "No, I wasn't calling you," said Harry, exasperated. " I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate all you do. To Dobby who already has the most garish collection of socks in Britain, I give you this. He handed Dobby an envelope. Dobby opened it and looked at the card enclosed.

"Thank you, Harry Potter," he said. "It is a great and wonderful present from the greatest wizard that Dobby has ever known."

Harry, although used to Dobby by now, was nonetheless embarrassed by his over-the-top praise. Explaining to the others present, he said "It's a gift certificate for a new pair of shoes per week. Guaranteed not to match." Everyone laughed at this and Dobby wept for joy.

Harry then turned to Winky. He said "Winky, it would seem that the only thing that you like is more work." Both elves nodded at this and everyone had to agree. "I know, however, that there is one thing that you want above all others. One thing that would make you truly happy. Unfortunately, I can not give it to you unless Hermione agrees. You may ask her if you wish."

Winky knew her own heart and went over to Hermione. "Miss Hermione," she said, with a pleading voice, "please let Harry Potter make me his slave. Winky is not happy being free." She looked longingly towards Harry and then back to Hermione.

Hermione, who had been outraged that elves were enslaved and had actively tried to free as many as possible for years, finally understood what everyone had been telling her; house-elves like being slaves. Right or wrong, they were wired that way and nothing would ever change it. Dobby was the aberration, not the norm. She looked at Winky and, with a tear in her eye, said "I give him my permission, Winky."

She saw for an instant the look of sheer joy in Winky's face before she popped away, to Harry's side.

"Winky will be Master Harry Potters elf," she declared. "Winky is wanting it now, Master Harry."

Harry laughed in spite of himself. "All right, all right. What do I have to do?" he asked. He didn't have any idea how you became a master to a free elf.

"Put your hand on my head and say "I make Winky my slave'" she said.

Harry put his hand on her head and said "I make Winky my slave."

Winky put her hand on Harry's arm and said "I will be the slave of Harry Potter." Harry felt a tingle for a second. He was now a slave owner. Actually, he thought, he already was. There was Kreacher, but he wasn't the same, somehow. He decided to move on.

"I'm afraid the elder Grangers are sort of out of luck. I don't know either of you well enough to think of something and I couldn't ask Hermione without spoiling the surprise. I hope to think of something, with Hermione's help."

Emma Granger gave Harry a big hug and said "We already received the best present ever in St. Mungo's. We'll never forget that you saved our daughter." Dan Granger agreed and also hugged Harry.

Harry was a little embarrassed but could say nothing else. After a few minutes he said "Well, last but certainly not least, we get to Hermione. This was made for you, Hermione."

Handing over the package, he waited for her to unwrap it. Inside the carton was what appeared to be a jewelry box in the shape of a bookcase. Opening the front revealed several buttons and two sliders; one vertical and one horizontal. The buttons included the alphabet on the left side and five others labeled "Title," "Author," "Subject," "Favorites" and "New" on the right. In the middle was an opening leading into a space that looked deeper than the case.

Confused, Hermione looked at Harry. Harry was also confused. He had not seen any buttons before and only the horizontal slider was there when he bought the gift.

"Dobby," he called. Instantly the elf appeared. "This seems to be a little different. You said that you were going to improve it. Perhaps you should show Hermione how it works."

"Dobby will be proud to show Harry Potter's Miss Granger how to use her new book holder," he said. Snapping his fingers, he summoned one of her romance novels from her nightstand. She was embarrassed when she saw it. Pressing the "New" button he put the book through the hole and it intoned "Any Witch Way You Want" followed by the name Taffilda Flameader and finally the phrase "trash novel". Instantly, there was a blur behind the opening as what appeared to be hundreds of books flew past until a spot appeared on a shelf between "Anywhere spells for travel" and Any World will do". Dobby then placed the book on the shelf. Hermione noticed that the case did not gain any weight at all and still remained very light.

"To find a book Miss Granger must be picking a title or author or subject and pressing the first few letters and it will be taking you to that area. Then use the sliders to be finding the right book."

Delight turning to wonder, Hermione pressed the "Title" button followed by the "A". She then started to move the sliders across and down. After several shelves passed by, she noticed she was still in the "A"'s. "Exactly how many books are already in here?" she asked with a strange look on her face.

"I don't really know," responded Harry, turning to Dobby. "When I bought it, it could only hold about a two hundred."

"Dobby makes the box hold many more books than before. Dobby buys one of each book in Flourish and Botts that Miss Granger doesn't already have just as Harry Potter asked and then Dobby checks the Daily Prophet for estate sales and buys every book he can find," said the elf to a suddenly quiet group. "Dobby checks to make sure no book is in more than once. The total number of books including the one that Dobby is just putting in is 38,629"

"What!" screamed Hermione and Harry together. "Harry, that must have cost a fortune!" she said, turning towards him with a look of anger. "How could you possibly expect me to accept something like this?"

Pale faced but recovering quickly, Harry replied "Because it is absolutely the perfect gift for you and you are my best friend. Besides," he continued, "you gave me that neat homework planner for Christmas once and I never got to properly thank you."

With a look of resignation on her face she looked at Harry and said sternly, "You realize that I will have a few more words to say about this in private." She suddenly perked up and continued "Of course, don't think for a moment that I don't love it."

Harry smiled.

"Thank you, Harry," she said.

The party continued for a while longer. Ginny suggested that Luna try on her new dress. It was the focal point of the rest of the party. You just couldn't take your eyes off of it. The WWN was tuned to a dance station and Harry danced with Ginny, Luna, Hermione, Fleur and Mrs. Weasley. The cake was consumed and the food snacked on all the while. Finally, everyone started to wind down and the party was declared over.

Later that night, Harry called Dobby.

"Dobby," began Harry. "Exactly how much money did you use to buy those books?" he asked.

"Dobby is not sure, Harry Potter," replied the elf. "Dobby just bought books until Gringotts goblins told him the vault was empty," replied Dobby, reaching for his ears.

"Thanks, Dobby," said a stunned Harry. "Just asking. Goodnight."

Relieved, Dobby popped away.

"Oh, well," thought Harry. "Thank goodness I didn't transfer everything to one vault." He thought of the irony of the fact that despite the house and necklace, the 285 galleon book case was the most expensive present he gave out.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - Ginny Catches On

August 1st, 1997

Ginny Weasley had a problem. She thought too much. This was a problem because if she was as oblivious as her brother Ron, she would be happy, perhaps for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, she had not only been thinking, she had been observing. Worse than that, she had been thinking about past observations that had previously passed unnoticed. She knew it all started with Harry's little slip at the Burrow. She had kissed him after he had done some wandless magic and he had almost called her Hermione.

Now, the day after Harry's birthday, she had finally put his actions during Hermione's rescue a couple of weeks earlier into proper perspective. The proper perspective was that almost everything that Harry had done then was virtually impossible. With ten seconds warning, he had left from her mother's kitchen right through their anti-apparition wards (supposedly not possible), apparated 230 miles (very difficult, but not impossible) to the inside of a house he had only seen in a pensieve and a vision (highly unusual), through the house's anti-apparition wards (again, supposed to be impossible), to arrive next to a person whose location in the house he did not know (he said he could " feel her "). When he got there, the real fun began. Tonks had been allowed to view Harry and Hermione's memories of the rescue. She was the only one Harry would allow to view the memory to preserve the privacy of the girls who were all naked at the time. Tonks had come out of Harry's pensieve pale and severely shaken. According to Tonks, the first bastard, the one raping Hermione, got off fairly lightly with having his entire body instantly destroyed with a reducto. Then, with fourteen Death Eaters in front of him, using a single personal combat spell that is meant to cause deep wounds on one opponent, he cut all fourteen in two at the waist. About a second later, eleven more burst into flames without the apparent use of a wand. Harry then side-along apparated Hermione and the other three girls to the (again) anti-apparition warded lobby of St. Mungo's.

Ginny wasn't the master tactician her brother was but she could tell that this was not in the least the way that Voldemort had planned things. He would have expected Harry to contact the Order of the Phoenix. There would have been a delay during which time he could set many traps and gather his forces for a bloody battle. No doubt, when most of the attackers were either dead or incapacitated, he would find Harry and kill him. By getting in and out in a matter of seconds, Harry had handed Voldemort his worst defeat in years while suffering negative losses (he had, in fact, rescued three more girls than he intended to).

So where is the problem? The problem was that Harry's words and actions indicated that when Hermione was in danger, he would not hesitate to save her, regardless of the danger, odds or cost. It was simply a matter of save her or die trying. Sure, they were friends, but for most people, friendship only goes so far. Would Ron have attempted such a feat, even if he was remotely capable of it? She wasn't sure. Would Harry have come after her? Of course. She remembered reading somewhere that "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." This applied to Harry more than anyone else she knew. He had accomplished a similar feat when only twelve years old by defeating a fifty foot basilisk. He did all this to save her. Even earlier, he had been ready to die to keep Voldemort from acquiring a new body when he was eleven. When he was fourteen, he had fought a dragon, survived underwater for an hour, defeated who-knows-what in that damn maze, fought and evaded Lord Voldemort personally only to give his prize money to her brothers, George and Fred, so they could pursue their dreams. The next year, besides saving the life of her father, he had risked everything (well, she was at least helping him this time) to save his god-father. He fought and escaped from Voldemort again and also helped capture several Death Eaters. The year after that, he saved the life of Ron and again fought Death Eaters, capturing a couple himself including the notorious Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf psycho who had attacked her brother, Bill. Let's see; three members of her family owe him their lives, two owe him their livelihoods and one was revenged by him. She could spend the rest of her life trying to make him the happiest wizard in the world and it wouldn't be good enough. It was time to pay him back a little.

Walking over to Ron, who was reading the latest issue of Witch Broomstick, she said "Ron, I need your help."

That evening, Ron and Harry were in the sitting room at Grimmauld Place, recuperating from an especially fine dinner prepared by Dobby. It was just the four of them. They had decided to spend the rest of the weekend at Grimmauld Place to keep Hermione and her parents company. Winky had taken the elder Grangers back to their house for a while to water their plants and generally check on the place. The talk started (as most casual conversations with Ron) with the performance and chances of various quidditch teams and players. In the past, Ron's encyclopedic knowledge of the sport would have given him a very unfair advantage but Harry, after several years playing and watching the game, could now hold his own. Ron eventually led the conversation to his sister, one of the current Gryffindor chasers.

"I think she will be much better this year, Ron," said Harry. "I would be surprised if she isn't captain next year."

"Probably", agreed Ron. "Of course the team won't be as good without us then, will it?" he asked, a huge grin on his face.

"Well," said Harry, puffing out his chest in mock pomposity. "That goes without saying." They always seemed to end their arguments with the one thing they could always agree on; their own brilliance on the pitch.

"Say, Harry?" began Ron. "How do you think things will be for you and Ginny next year?" he asked. "I mean, you won't be around school. Do you think you can make a long distance relationship work?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I don't know, Ron," he replied. "I guess I never really thought about next year." He thought a bit more before adding "I mean, at least not about dating and everything."

Ron knew what he meant. He was still facing having to track down the remaining horcruxes and occasionally having to fight those pesky Death Eaters. Perhaps this wasn't the right time to bring this up but he had promised Ginny.

"Can I ask you something?" Ron asked.

"You just did," answered Harry with a smirk. "But as it's you, I'll let you ask me something else, too."

Ron paused and then asked "Why, exactly, didn't you ever date Hermione?" Ron tried to look as serious as he could.

Harry noticed the expression on Ron's face and decided to give him an honest answer. "Well, I suppose the first time that I actually had to ask a girl out was at the Yule Ball and I had such a crush on Cho at the time that I was blinded to anyone else." He paused, considering the rest of his response. "When that was shot down, you brought up that Hermione could go with you and I could go with Ginny, if you remember." Ron nodded. "Both of them already had dates so we ended up with the Patil twins. Let's see, fifth year I was tied up in that abomination of a relationship with Cho again and Umbridge took up a fair amount of time so I never really had another girl. Last year, Hermione had a crush on you and you sort of had one on her so I just stayed out of it. After a while, I started having feelings for Ginny." Harry turned to Ron. "I think that brings us up to date."

"Do you think you might have overlooked her on account of how she looks?" asked Ron.

"Well, it is easier to ask the plainer girls out than ones like Hermione, Ginny or Cho," said Harry.Ron thought that Harry really missed the point of that question. He didn't think that Hermione scared small animals but he also didn't think of her as an equal to Cho or even Ginny.

"So it is basically a lack of opportunity?" Ron asked.

"I guess so," replied Harry. He didn't know why Ron was bringing this all up. "I mean it isn't like we never see each other. We probably spend ten hours per day together one way or another. What would be the point of dating? And of course, there is the fact that she is Hermione."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron, actually curious.

"Well, she is brilliant, beautiful, brave and a lot of fun to be around. She could teach any course at Hogwarts as well or better than the professors. No offense, mate, but I expect she will be attracting someone on her level when we are done with this whole Voldemort business. I mean I hope she decides to stay with you but you might want to just enjoy it while it lasts. She's bound to have a lot of fantastic guys trying to get her, won't she? I think I stayed away from her romantically to prevent getting hurt when she wised up and got a decent suitor. She'll find herself a whole lot better bloke than me, at least. We're just lucky she wastes her time with us right now when we need her the most." Harry had never fully realized how lucky he was to know someone like Hermione. As to how important she was to their operation, it was very clear; she was indispensable.

"So if she is so brilliant and beautiful and all that, why is she hanging around with me at all?" asked Ron with a fake hurt look on his face.

"Temporary insanity, I figure," replied Harry, immediately having to duck a sofa cushion.

Hermione had followed Ginny into the kitchen. When Ginny had suggested that it would only be fair to do the dishes since Dobby cooked dinner, the S.P.E.W. founder felt compelled to agree. After Ron and Harry had been chased out ducking for cover after the girls thought they heard the muttered words "women's work," it was, indeed, just the women who went to do the work. After waving their wands nonchalantly to start the dishes to cleaning themselves, the girls sat down and started to chat.

"Were you surprised at Harry's party yesterday?" asked Ginny, trying to start the conversation.

"Yes," replied Hermione. "I was hoping for a nice dinner and was just floored." She sipped her coffee.

"How are your parents doing?" she asked, softly. "Are they getting over, you know?" Hermione would know what she meant.

"Well," she began, "they seem to be getting used to the idea. I mean, as much as they ever will." She took another sip. "I don't know if I will ever get over it. The extremes of emotions were about as far apart as you could get."

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny. She would have thought terrified would just about cover it.

"Well there was the surprise of the attack itself. Then waking up in that cellar with Malfoy and all those Death Eaters was pretty scary. After he, uh, vanished my, uh..," she trailed off.

Ginny put her hand on Hermione's arm. "You don't have to say it." Maybe she should let this drop for now.

Hermione needed to tell it. "No, it's OK. After he did that and left they just came after me and I started screaming and that just seemed to egg them on. After a while, I couldn't even scream, I was so scared. I used up all of my strength fighting the first one so when the second one started, I just lay there. I couldn't believe it was happening, you know?" She looked to Ginny.

Ginny had decided to let Hermione tell her story. She had not really been able to get it all out yet and she was sure it would help her heal. The ulterior motives behind the conversation would have to wait.

Hermione continued. "I have never been more terrified in my life. Well, you can imagine. Naked in a room full of Death Eaters, already raped once, being raped again, knowing that you are just bait to draw in your best friend so he can be killed. It was the worst moment of my life. I just wanted to die. Malfoy said they had to keep me alive to draw in Harry. I wanted to die right then so they couldn't use me to get to him." She tried to fill her cup but couldn't. Ginny finally poured her a cup. Her hands were also shaking but she managed.

"And then he was there, standing over me," she said as if describing a vision. "I didn't really see what he was doing and the next thing I know he's holding me in his arms. I felt him moving across the room. He set my feet on the floor and held out his hand to the other girls and we all were in St. Mungo's. I think that I cracked one of his ribs, I was holding him so tight. I just couldn't let go. I knew I was safe as long as I held onto Harry. I still can't believe that my heart didn't explode with joy. It wasn't just from being rescued, either. At that moment I had faith that Harry would actually be able to fulfill his destiny."

Ginny looked up in shock. "His destiny? You mean that "Chosen One" destiny that you all keep denying?"

Hermione was startled out of her story and then looked resigned. "Yes, Ginny," she said, "that destiny. It's true. Harry is the only one who can destroy Voldemort. That is what we have been working on all this time." She waited.

Ginny was stunned. "I thought no one actually knew what the prophecy said," she stated.

"Harry, Ron and I do. Harry heard it from Dumbledore and he told us," stated Hermione. "We had been working on things that must be done in order to finally kill Voldemort but I didn't really believe we could do it, not really. Now I do," she said, with an iron conviction.

Ginny was completely stunned. Maybe she could get Hermione to confund her so she would be normal again. Hit the eject button, she thought. I need to get back to something that I can deal with. With no preamble at all she asked, "Do you love Harry?"

"Of course," replied Hermione, automatically. Then she thought about the question and who had asked it. "Wait, Ginny. Of course I love him, but like a brother. We don't have the kind of love that you and he have."

"Why not?" Ginny asked, bluntly. "Why do you think the two of you never dated?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to be stunned. "Well, I guess because he never asked me." She didn't like

that answer but had no other.

"Why do you think he never asked you?" Ginny persisted. Her questions were coming hot and fast to resist being brushed off.

"Because he can have any girl he wants. He's Harry Potter, after all." Hermione had never really thought about it before but it seemed to be the truth. "He will end up with someone worthy of him. Someone beautiful and talented and popular like you. I'm just the friend with the fuzzy hair that he can chum around with. When it comes to dating, he can up the scale as far as he wants."

Ginny ignored the compliment and summarized. "So basically, you aren't quite good enough for him, is that it?" she asked.

"Basically, yes," agreed Hermione. She didn't like where this conversation was going. Why was Ginny doing this?

"Excuse me for a bit," said Ginny and walked out of the room.

Ginny went up to the sitting room and looked in. The boys were looking through some of the old quidditch magazines. Ginny called to Ron "Oy, Ron. Are you done?"

"Yes," said Ron and got up.

Harry looked a little confused but Ron said "Wait here a bit," and left with Ginny. A few minutes later they returned with a confused looking Hermione.

Hermione sat down next to Harry and they both exchanged confused looks before looking back at the furnace of red hair across the room. Ron spoke first.

"I suppose you are wondering what we are up to," he stated. It was obvious but that was his forte. "Well, Ginny had some suspicions so we decided to check them out."

"It first occurred to me the day you rescued Hermione," she began. "You didn't ask if I was OK. You didn't wait for the Order to come help. You knew it was a trap. You knew you would be walking into their hands. You couldn't even wait the thirty seconds it would have taken Ron to come down the stairs. You just yelled that they had Hermione and left. You were coming back with her or not at all."

Harry started to respond but Ginny cut him off. "Hermione, meanwhile, was told that she was just there to lure you to your death. Even while she was being raped, she was thinking of you. She wished to die rather than cause your death. And when you did bring her back to St. Mungo's, she was acting naturally around you for the first time. I was there. I saw her cling to you as if her life depended on it. Even after she was saved, with Ron nearby, she only wanted you to hold and comfort her. It was only when you reminded her, that she remembered who's girlfriend she was supposed to be."

This time it was Hermione who tried to be heard but Ron spoke to Harry first. "For the last three years, your excuses have been bad decisions, bad timing and bad luck for why you never asked Hermione out. In the end it was because you felt she was so far out of your league that you couldn't possibly rise to her standards."

Ginny then had her say. "And you," she said, looking at Hermione, "thought Harry's requirements for a perfect girl had to include stunning beauty. I think he got over that idea with Cho. And if what my dear brother tells me is true, Harry puts you at the same level as Cho and me. When he looks at you, he sees a great beauty because he only sees you, not your hair, clothes, complexion or any superficial imperfections. If you don't believe he thinks the world of you, look at your present from him. I agree it was a mistake to let Dobby anywhere near it but he didn't bat an eye when he found out what it had in it and guessed how much it cost. The first words out of his mouth were explaining how you were worth it. And whose permission did he need before he could give Winky her gift?"

Harry and Hermione were silent. This was quite unexpected and they didn't know what to think.

Then Ron started again. "Hermione, all you or I do when we are alone is argue or snog. When it comes to an intelligent discussion or just chatting about the day's events, it is usually Harry that you seek out. When you need someone to comfort you when you are overwhelmed by your capture and attacks, I was useless. Fortunately, Harry was always there. Even in the hospital, when I was still trying to grasp the magnitude of your rescue, he was sad that he couldn't do anything to take your pain away."

"That's pretty much the same with us, Harry," said Ginny. "We don't argue as much and we do talk a bit but we don't have the same connection that the two of you have. I doubt if either of you sees the plain girl or the small, skinny boy. When you talk, you look only into each other's eyes. Your heart fills in the handsome young man and beautiful woman. I believe the term for your relationship is "soul mates". It means that you are connected on a level beyond intellect and emotion."

Ron broke the silence again. "Both of you are either Muggle born or the next best thing. You still don't know that much about how wizards think. You have heard of a "Life Debt" but still have no idea what it is or how important it is. Harry, you have saved from my family, in order, Ginny, Dad and Me and helped out Fred and George to no small degree. That doesn't count Hermione but she isn't a Weasley so she'll have to come up with her own way to repay you."

Harry started to say that he didn't expect to be repaid. He had done all those things out of love but Ginny cut him off again.

"No, Harry. We know you well enough to know you don't want to be repaid for saving half of my bloody family but this is something we feel we must do. It is our family honor at stake and all of our happiness. We have told you these things tonight so your true feelings that you have hidden for each other would be known. You both have placed each other on a pedestal that no one can reach. You have both basically settled for second best because you think the other deserves much better than you can give. You both love each other and would die for each other without a seconds thought. You are also both good enough for each other. Ron and I will leave you now and you two can talk it over. We will give you this guilt-free night to decide if Harry wants to be with me and Hermione wants to be with Ron or if you two want to be with each other or whatever else you can come up with. Our payment on the life debt will be that we will accept without consequence, guilt, malice or jealousy any decision that the two of you come up with. We both love both of you and we want you to be happy. If it is with us, that is great. But if it is with each other, that is great, too. You should try to imagine yourself fifty years from now, sitting at the breakfast table. When you look up, who is looking back? This is our gift to you. Decide."

With that, they both turned and left, closing the door behind them.

Harry and Hermione sat stunned for about a full minute, thinking about all that they had heard. Neither could believe their love for the other was mutual. They looked at each other, trying to divine the answer. Finally, Harry turned to Hermione and said "So. Who do you see?" He knew what he was talking about. The question was, did she?

Hermione didn't answer right away. She stared straight ahead. Slowly, she started to blush. Just as slowly, her lips started to turn up into a smile. She said "You." Now she turned to her best friend of six years and asked him "And you?"

Harry smiled too now and said "Minerva McGonagall." They both burst out laughing. Harry thought he was going to have to see Madame Pomfrey, his sides were aching so much. Hermione couldn't catch her breath and was clutching at Harry's neck to support herself. It wasn't that Harry's joke was that funny. As they laughed, all of the tension and uncertainty between them vanished and they knew. The two of them knew at that moment just how great a gift Ron and Ginny had given them.

After about ten minutes of gradually diminishing fits of the giggles, they were able to talk again. Harry asked her, "So, what do we do now? I mean do we start dating and what could we do that would be new?"

Hermione understood what he was getting at. "Well," she said, "we've known each other for about six years. We've eaten three meals a day together most of the time."

"We've been in the same classes together for the most part, sitting within a foot of each other," added Harry.

"Our evenings have also mostly been doing the same things or just talking," submitted Hermione.

"You and Ron and I have been on most of our extracurricular activities together."

"At some point or other, I have told you about everything that I ever did before Hogwarts."

"I never did anything before Hogwarts."

"You've already met my parents and they like you."

"I'm sure my parents would love you, too."

Hermione stopped at that one and looked at Harry. "I guess we've been dating all this time."

Harry looked into her eyes and said "There is one thing we haven't done yet," he said, moving closer to her.

She looked at him and asked "And what could that be?" She moved towards him, tilting her head.

He said "This," and their lips met as old friends, long parted. It was not a typical first kiss. It was not a particularly passionate kiss. It was a kiss of two lovers long since satisfied with their choice. The kiss of eternal, lasting love that nothing, not the legions of Death Eaters or even the Hosts of Hell itself could end. They held this kiss for a full minute before gasping for air. Then they both realized that air was overrated and joined again for two minutes.

When they finally parted, they were convinced. It had been so obvious that they were never again able to state with any conviction exactly how they didn't know that they were meant for each other. There were some hard to miss clues, after all. Harry had pretty much made it clear that he didn't want to live without her when he apparated into the basement of Riddle Manor. She had also shown her love for him when she made him promise to never put himself at risk for her sake, again.

Harry said, "I guess we are back to the original question. What do we do now?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I believe that we have already decided that we have dated long enough. What's the next step?" she asked.

Harry said, "I believe that most people would tell me that I just turned seventeen yesterday and to wait to move on until I'm ready."

Hermione replied "That would probably be good advice." She didn't want to push him into anything he might regret.

"As for myself, I'm ready now." He had waited for happiness his whole life and wasn't about to wait any longer. In the end though, he would leave it up to her.

She thought a moment and then said, "I think we have to wait three days or something but I'm not sure. Are you thinking big or small? Muggle or Magic?"

"As long as it ends up the same way, I really don't care," said Harry, kissing her for the first time as her fiancé.

"Good," said Hermione, a few seconds later. "I don't have a preference either so maybe we should let my mother figure that stuff out." She kissed him back.

"Dobby," said Harry. The elf appeared almost instantly.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir," he said. "What can Dobby do for Harry Potter?"

"Please go to the Granger's house and ask them and Winky to hurry back," said Harry.

After several more seconds of just holding each other, Harry said "I suppose we ought to go tell the Best Man and Maid of Honor" With that, the two of them got up and went to find the youngest Weasleys.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 - The Engagement

August 1st, 1997 - Later that night

Mrs. Weasley didn't know if she would lose her mind or had already lost it. Her only daughter had flooed her, asking her to come over to Grimmauld Place. When she got there, she was greeted by Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the Grangers. Nothing looked out of place at first. Ginny was sitting next to Ron and Harry was next to Hermione. They all looked perfectly happy and normal. Wait! That was it. Harry normally sat next to Ginny and Ron next to Hermione. Ginny then said that she would be able to have a small practice wedding before the main one with Bill and Fleur. She had to think for a second. Her first thought was Harry and Ginny since they got along the best. Then she realized that Ginny was not yet of age and would have needed her parents permission to get married. Not that she would have hesitated for an instant. She looked at Ron and Hermione next. They were both old enough but why weren't they sitting next to each other? Well, it wasn't Ron and Ginny so that left...

"Who is getting married?" she asked, looking at Harry and Hermione. She didn't want to hear the answer but, somehow, she didn't need to.

"That would be us," replied Harry, indicating himself and Hermione. They put their arms around each other and smiled at her.

Molly looked at them and then at Ginny and Ron. They didn't put their arms around each other but smiled, nevertheless. She then looked at the Grangers. They smiled back as well but also seemed just as confused as she was.

"We just got here, too," said Emma. They had been surprised when Dobby showed up asking them to hurry back to Grimmauld place. Fearing more trouble, they dropped everything and Winky and Dobby took them to the kitchen with the kids. Hermione told her that she was getting married the following Saturday so they would need to arrange the wedding. Emma, too, had done the analysis to determine the groom and had come to the same conclusion. She, however, was pleased. She knew that Hermione and Ron had not been getting along and Harry had seemed so nice. She knew that they loved each other. Being "in love", however, was something new.

Molly asked the question that all of the parents had on their minds. "When, exactly, did this happen? I believe that just yesterday, Harry was with Ginny and Hermione was with Ron. What happened?", she asked, totally at a loss for even a guess.

"That would be my fault," said Ginny. She stood up, as if giving a lecture. "Harry, being the inexperienced fool that he is, answered some direct questions about Hermione that I, and later, Ron, had asked him. I interrogated Hermione tonight and got the other end of the deal from her. It seems that they have loved each other for years. They just didn't know it was mutual until we pointed it out." She looked at both Harry and Hermione and added, "I have no idea why they decided to skip the "dating" thing and go right into marriage but I don't disagree." She sat down.

There was an opportunity for Dan Granger to get a word in and he took it. "I would like to hear that explanation myself," he said. "Hermione?"

Hermione now stood. Harry stood with her and put his arms around her. "Well," she said, "I suppose that we knew that Ginny and Ron were right. We discussed the possibility of dating but decided we had already eaten enough meals together, spent enough evenings talking and gone on enough adventures to know each other as well as we ever will. I don't think Harry specifically asked me to marry him but we both started talking about the wedding so it was implied."

"Well," said Harry, "if it will make it official." He dropped to one knee and said, "Hermione, will you marry me?"

"Sure," she replied. She then added, "Where's my ring?" Everyone laughed at this.

"I know a jeweler who tried to sell me one a while ago," replied Harry. "We'll go see him tomorrow."

Molly, who had been planning Harry and Ginny's wedding for years, was not giving up quite so easily. Facing her daughter, she asked, "What do you mean, you and Ron "pointed out" that Harry and Hermione were in love?" The unspoken question was "How did you manage to screw things up so bad in just one day?"

"I have eyes and ears, Mom," Ginny said. "I have been talking to Harry quite a bit this summer and he is so naive with girlfriends that he was truthful with me when things came up. For instance, we were discussing a way to improve his spell casting. I came up with a good idea and when it worked and I kissed him, he started to call me Hermione. He caught himself and corrected it. I asked about it and he then screwed up again and said that he was confused by having two pretty girls with good ideas around. Then, when Hermione was captured, well, you were there. He brushed us off as fast as he could and went into that trap to get her. That's love, Mom. Hermione was a little harder to crack but she pretty much feels the same way about Harry. If Ron and I hadn't explained it to them, they probably would have married the wrong people. At least Harry might have. I think that Ron and Hermione were starting to figure out how wrong they were for each other, already." Ron and Hermione both nodded and blushed.

Molly didn't know what to do or say. She didn't want to give up on having Harry as a son-in-law but didn't want to alienate both Harry and Hermione by saying something stupid. Ron seemed to have an insightful moment.

"We had to explain it to them, Mom," said Ron. "We didn't tell them how to think; we just laid out the facts. We then explained to the two of them about how this was our payment on the "life debt" that our family owes Harry. Ginny and I said that they could choose to keep things the same as they were or to try to see if they wanted to be together. We promised there would be no guilt or jealousy." He looked at Ginny. "Ginny, of course, had the most to lose because Hermione and I were already on thin ice."

"Harry and I took their advice," said Hermione. "I never allowed myself to even think about Harry since he was "Harry Potter" and could have any girl he wanted. He had already dated Cho and Ginny. They are both so beautiful. And he went to the Yule Ball with Pavarti and Slughorn's party with Luna. Two more stunners even though Luna is, well, "Luna". What kind of a chance did I have?"

Harry looked at her with confusion written all over his face. "I don't get it," he said. "You're as beautiful as any of them. Ron and I were even talking about it earlier tonight."

Ron said, "Harry, I was saying..."

"That's right!" butted in Ginny. "Hermione is as beautiful as any of us. That was what was holding Harry back. He was afraid that someone as beautiful and brilliant and everything as Hermione would obviously be finding someone better than him. All we did was knock their heads together to get them to wise up."

Molly and Emma were convinced. They knew that Harry saw Hermione through the filter of love. It was as Ginny had said earlier; they saw each other with their hearts. Harry and Dan didn't know what was going on. Of course Hermione was beautiful. What was the big deal? Ron finally realized why Ginny had stopped him and remained silent.

Dan asked, "What was the debt you said you were paying, again? I didn't get that part."

Ginny said, "When a witch or wizard saves another witch or wizard, that creates a "life debt". It means that you owe them your life or something of equal value. Harry has quite a collection from my family. He saved me, Dad and Ron. He also financed two of my brothers in their business and caught the werewolf that almost killed my other brother. Technically, Hermione also owes him one but as she will have to scratch his back for the next hundred years, we'll call that good."

Nobody had any more comments for a minute so Hermione changed the subject. "Well," she began, "now that we have that sorted out, we need to plan the wedding. Where should we have it?"

"Did I miss the part where you explained why you are having it in one week?", asked Dan.

"You must have," replied Emma. Molly had nothing on her when it came to grabbing the net when the fish was near the boat. "I suppose you will want a magical wedding, since most of your friends are wizards?" she asked.

"Most of my friends are witches and wizards but we can still be married in a muggle church," replied Hermione. "We just need to take Ron's wand away for the day so he doesn't forget and freak everyone out."

"How big are we talking, Harry?" asked Molly. Her turf was being challenged and she was up to making her own claims.

"I would say about the size of my birthday party?" he half answered, half asked, looking at Hermione.

Hermione considered and said, "I suppose that would be the core guest list. Maybe a few others. I don't think we want to draw too much attention to this."

"An excellent idea," said Dan, who just remembered that it was the bride's family that paid for the wedding.

"I know I only get to go in the summer now," said Hermione, "but do you think we could have the wedding in our church?" Hermione's family attended a small, but friendly, church just outside of the small town in which they lived.

"I'll call Reverend Paul first thing in the morning," said Emma. "I doubt that we can get it on such short notice but we can try." She made herself a note on a slip of paper from her purse. "We'll have to get the dress off the rack, I'm afraid."

"We can look at Madam Malkin's when we get the rings," said Harry. "She can make anything we want in a day or so."

Hermione looked up with a worried expression. "Is a muggle marriage legal in the wizard world?" she asked. She was surrounded by muggles and purebloods. "Who would know?" she asked, to no one in particular. They would have to check on that, too.

Molly pulled Emma to the side. "As the two mothers involved, we should divide up the details. You are already checking on the church and I expect will want to work with your daughter on the wedding dress so I'll handle the reception."

Emma started to object. "You already have your son's wedding in two weeks. Perhaps I should do this one so you won't be overworked," she suggested.

Molly fired right up. "My son will be getting married in one week and then my other son will be getting married the week after that," she stated. "I am perfectly capable of dealing with both weddings." Let there be no confusion; Harry was her son!

Emma Granger was no stranger handling trouble, even if it was, literally, like pulling teeth. But she had heard of Molly Weasley. Perhaps she could help her daughter with the fun stuff like the church and wedding dress and leave the heavy lifting to someone who, by all accounts, liked it.

"That sounds lovely," she said. "I'll call about the church and pastor and then go with Hermione and Harry and help with the wedding dress while you can start planning the reception."

Molly was shocked that Emma had acquiesced so easily and decided to toss her a bone. "Would you have time to do the invitations, Mrs. Granger?" she asked.

Emma said, "I think we could do that. And it's Emma, Molly. We are going to be related, after all." She then added, "I'm not sure how but who cares?"

Everyone laughed, most of them in relief that Mount Molly had been mollified.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 - Preparations

August 2nd, 1997

The next morning, Emma called Reverend Paul and was delighted that both he, and the church, were available next Saturday. It was a side benefit of being a small church; you didn't have something going on all the time. He noted that he would ordinarily want to see the couple for a few sessions to help them make sure they were compatible, but since Hermione was away so much of the year, he assumed that she and Harry were getting their advice from other clergy. They decided to agree with his assessment since admitting that most of their friends and advisors were witches and wizards would probably not impress the pastor.

The next stop was Diagon Alley. They stopped at Madam Malkin's first, since it stood a good chance of taking up the majority of the day.

"What sort of a dress did you have in mind?" asked Emma. Harry would be of no help since men tended to view wedding dresses the same as they did black shoes; they saw absolutely no difference between them and didn't know how you could spend five hours choosing the right pair.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "I'm not even sure of the color. I always assumed it would be white but I don't know if that would be appropriate, now."

Both Harry and Emma turned towards her and simultaneously asked, "What?"

Hermione was startled by the dual response and stuttered out, "Well, after the attack I'm not, you know, a virgin anymore and"

"Your honor is still intact, Hermione!" shouted Harry, so loudly as to embarrass them all. Quieter, he said, "You had no control over what those Death Eaters did. It was not by your choice that a physical change was made to your body. Your soul remains pure in my eyes." He then kissed her and she hugged him for all she was worth. She had worried that it would make a difference between them.

Emma said, "I agree entirely. You must not feel guilty about anything that happened in that horrid place. It was beyond your control." She smiled and continued, "And if it makes you feel better, I believe more strongly than ever that you made the right choice with Harry." Hermione hugged her mother and calmed down. They went back to the dresses.

They decided on a material and style fairly quickly (or as Harry remembered it, after an eternity of choices between colors such as "Bright White" and "Slightly Brighter White") and moved on to shoes. Emma and Hermione viewed the variety on display, almost coming to blows over whether or not to go with one inch or fifteen-sixteens of an inch heels, while Harry wished for a Death Eater attack to help move things along. They finally moved on to the proper undergarments to wear with the dress and Harry finally snapped.

"What possible difference does that make?" he asked. "It's not like anyone will see them."

Hermione turned to him and said "Keep it up and nobody will." It took him a moment to figure that out and he blushed furiously and sat back down in the corner, hoping silently that they got out of there before his beard was as long as Dumbledore's.

Eventually, they left Madam Malkin's and Emma went home to call the florist. Harry and Hermione headed for the jewelry shop to look at the rings.

"Hello, again, Mr. Potter," he said. "Good to see you back so quickly. There wasn't a problem with the rings or necklace, was there?" he asked.

"No," replied Harry, "not at all. They were great. Molly loved them. I don't know about the children, though."

"That's good," said the old man. "Well, I don't want to make the same mistake as last time so I will just ask what can I do for you?"

Hermione said, "We would like to see some wedding rings."

Mr. Sarus smiled at her. Turning to Harry, he said, "I see you found someone after all." To Hermione he said, "About a month ago, he came in looking for rings and I started to show him engagement rings. He just about jumped through the roof at the suggestion," he said, chuckling.

He then looked with professional interest at her left hand. "I don't see an engagement ring," he said. "How did you manage to let him off the hook on that?" he asked her.

"We are getting married on Saturday so I didn't really think I needed the engagement ring," she answered.

Puzzled, he asked, "Saturday? Why did you wait so long to buy the rings?"

"We didn't wait," said Harry. "We only got engaged last night." He then added, "And yes, we do want an engagement ring."

"Harry, you got me an engagement bookcase," said Hermione. "That is more appropriate than a ring."

"We weren't even going together then," countered Harry. "That doesn't count."

"You gave her an engagement bookcase?" asked a confused Mr. Sarus.

"Yes, last Thursday," replied Harry, "but that was before we started dating."

"You weren't dating last Thursday, you were engaged last night and you are getting married next Saturday?" asked a very confused Mr. Sarus.

"I bet you think we're crazy, don't you?" asked Hermione. She was starting to wonder herself.

"Not at all," said Mr. Sarus. "Mr. Potter's bank draft cleared so he might be eccentric, but never crazy." They all laughed at this and finally got down to business.

"I have a few sets that might suit you," he said. "Do you have a price range or material or style or anything or should I start with what I like."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and Harry said, "Let's start with what you like best and see how it goes." He didn't have a clue on what material or style they wanted and thought it was best left to the professional.

The old jeweler looked at the two of them and said, "I have something very special. I don't bring it out to display but I have a good idea that you can afford it, if you like it." He stepped into the back and came out a few minutes later with a small wooden case. He opened it and said, "It's a Star Fire cut diamond in a leviton setting. Guaranteed to never leave the ring or the replacement is free."

Harry and Hermione looked at the ring. The diamond was cut with faceted peaks all over it surrounded by smaller spurs. The light glinted and reflected off of it in a mesmerizing way that almost hypnotized them. The most unusual aspect of the ring was the setting; there wasn't one. The diamond floated over the ring and spun and rocked slowly, allowing the ring to change it's patterns even when the wearer was stationary.

"The band is eighteen carat gold with platinum styling. The diamond is five carats and is a grade D for color, grade FL for clarity. There is no better ring in the shop. For safety reasons, there is a permanent imperturbable charm on the diamond so that no one cuts themselves with it. That also makes it unnecessary to clean it."

"I've never seen anything like it," said Hermione. She was staring at the ring with an awed, slightly incoherent look in her eyes. That was enough for Harry.

"We'll take it," he said.

"We will not!" responded Hermione. "Harry, we don't even know how much it is but I can guess it is too much."

"Let's see, first," Harry said, reasonably. "How much is this ring, Mr. Sarus?" he asked.

"I can give you that ring with a pair of matching wedding rings done by next Friday for thirty-three thousand galleons," said Mr. Sarus. He crossed his fingers; he made that ring twenty-seven years ago and was hoping to sell it before he died.

Hermione was speechless. She looked like she had been petrified again.

"Whew!" said Harry. "For a minute there, I thought it would cost more than your bookcase."

That didn't help. Hermione didn't know what to be shocked more about; the bookcase or the ring. She had told herself that the bookcase only cost about ten thousand galleons. She would beat the exact number out of Harry later. The ring, however, was not bought yet.

"Harry," she said, "If you buy that ring I will never speak to you again."

"The key to marital bliss. It would be worth it at twice the price, my boy!" said the old husband.

"I heard that!" said an old female voice from the back room. Momentarily, Ruby Sarus joined them. She was as old as her husband. Her gray hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her dress was a little looser than when it was new. Her arms were covered with liver spots.

"Ruby, dear," said Jim. "This is my wife, Ruby," he said to Harry and Hermione. "Ruby, allow me to introduce the future Harry and Hermione Potter."

She looked up quickly and more closely. "You two were in the papers a couple of weeks ago, weren't you?" she said.

Harry and Hermione blushed a little. "Yes, we were," said Harry. He didn't want to remind Hermione of that today.

Ruby said, "I read all about it. Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the Chosen One and all that rubbish. He took on two dozen of those Death Eaters to save you. He risked it all for you, didn't he?" she asked Hermione.

Hermione looked very uncomfortable. "I wish he hadn't," she said. "He could have been killed."

Jim looked at his wife of eighty-six years and then Hermione. "He had no choice. He loved you then and he loves you now. Take it from a man who has had a lot of experience loving his wife; he had to come for you. Success or failure didn't matter. Being together was the important part." He gave his wife a kiss and she hugged him.

Harry said, "We'll take the ring. We'll be by Friday to pick up the wedding bands." Hermione kissed him and they held their embrace for quite a few seconds.

During that time, Ruby saw the Star Fire ring. "You finally sold it!" she exclaimed. "Wait, just a few minutes," she called and ran up the stairs to their apartment. Hermione let Harry put the ring on her finger and it automatically sized itself. They were admiring it when Ruby returned.

"Here," she said. "These were made by my husband for me over fifty years ago." She opened the box and displayed the two Star Fire earrings, also in leviton settings. They were about one carat each and sparkled like new.

"They're beautiful," said Hermione. "I can't believe that everyone doesn't wear this sort of jewelry."

"They can't," said Jim. "They are extremely expensive. Too expensive, really. No one can afford to keep them in stock. The ring nearly bankrupted me when I made it. I never made another."

"I will cherish it forever," said Hermione, "just like Ruby and her earrings." The young couple embraced again and watched as the old couple did the same.

"I have cherished them," said Ruby. "Now, I want you to cherish them." She closed the case and handed it to Hermione.

"I can't take your earrings!" shouted Hermione. "Your husband made them for you and they cost a fortune."

"I am old and won't wear them again," said Ruby. "I was impressed by your story; not the bravery, but the love behind it. Love like that deserves my earrings." She placed the case back in Hermione's hands. "Remember to love your husband as I have loved mine and you will be happy for the rest of your life."

"I won't forget," said Hermione.

When they returned to Grimmauld Place, they found Molly and Emma "discussing" the plans for the reception in the sitting room. Ginny and Tonks were interested observers, looking from one mother to the other as if watching a tennis match. Dobby and Winky wanted a piece of the action for themselves. Ron and Remus were wisely absent. Molly, of course, wanted to have the reception at the Burrow since she was making all the food and wanted her kitchen nearby. Emma had been trying to explain that the rest of Hermione's family were muggles and wouldn't be too thrilled about driving the seventy miles from the church to the Burrow. Everyone else, including Winky and Dobby knew that Emma was right. No one, however, felt strongly enough about it to try to persuade Molly to see reason. Logic? Begone! You have no power here!

Hermione determined that a diversion would be appropriate right now and did she ever have one! She walked between the older women and, holding her left hand up at eye height and looking at her fingernails, asked, "Want to see my ring?"

There was a distinct "knock" as two heads collided in an effort to get a closer look at the dazzling solitaire. Molly's head was thicker so she recovered first. "Hermione!" she said in an extremely loud whisper. "That's...That's..."

"It certainly is," said Emma, recovering fast and coming in from the side. While both women had been aware that Harry had money, nothing hits home quite as hard as a rock like this! Ginny and Tonks approached with caution but were nevertheless enthralled by the rotating, sparkling, totally unique diamond.

"I promised not to be jealous of you and Harry but I am totally jealous of that ring," said Ginny. She had joined the other two in examining Hermione's ring.

"LUPIN!" shouted Tonks. He burst into the room a few seconds later, followed closely by Ron, wands drawn, looking wary. "Look what Harry bought for Hermione, you cheap bastard."

Remus looked at the ring. Then he looked at Tonks. Then he bolted for the door, Tonks at his heels.

Ron glanced at the ring and walked over to Harry. "Looks nice," he said, conversationally.

"I thought so," said Harry. They walked over to the far end of the room and started browsing the latest quidditch magazines.

After a minute or two of feminine ogling, Emma made an astute observation. "That will be almost impossible to accessorize," she said, mentally going through her jewelry box to try to think of something that would come close to matching the ring's brilliance. The other women nodded their agreement.

Hermione pushed back her bushy hair and said, "I thought these looked OK." It was a good thing her hands were next to her ears since she had to cover them to protect herself from the triad of screams. Tonks, discerning that she had missed something, came running back, took one look at the earrings and renewed her pursuit of the werewolf.

Molly and Emma were both speechless. Ginny was having her promise to be understanding and supportive put to the absolute limits. Hermione smiled and told them about the history of the ring. They all cried when she got to the part about Ruby and why she gave Hermione the earrings. Hermione said that she hoped to do the same to someone else someday if the opportunity came up.

Harry called Dobby over to him.

"Dobby," he said. "Please find Remus if he is still alone and bring him here without letting Tonks see you."

Dobby popped away and returned about twenty seconds later with a decidedly frightened werewolf. He immediately dropped to the floor behind Harry's chair, out of sight of the door.

Harry said, "Hi, Remus. Why don't you have a chair and tell us what's going on?"

Remus raised his head slightly and said, "I'm quite comfortable here, thank you very much." He paused a moment to listen for his girlfriend; they thought they heard her running through the rooms on the floor above.

"Well," he began, "we were shopping for an engagement ring a few weeks ago, and"

"You want to marry her?" asked Ron, incredulously.

"Well, she can be nice at times," replied Lupin. "Anyway, I don't have a lot of money and we were looking at the two hundred galleon rings. We found a couple that looked nice."

"So what's the problem?" asked Harry. He knew Remus didn't have a lot of money but Tonks knew that as well.

"Well, we went home to discuss the different rings and I suggested that maybe some of the one hundred galleon rings would be just as nice and could we please look at some of them the next day?"

"That does sound cheap, I guess," agreed Harry.

"That wasn't the problem," confessed Remus. "Before we went to check out some of the cheaper ones, I suggested, suggested for the sake of argument only mind you, that we might not even need an engagement ring at all."

"You cheap bastard," said Harry and Ron together.

"Thanks," said Remus. He heard footsteps on the stairs and started to work on his concealment.

Harry thought a minute and said, "This is my fault. I asked you to help us and we never worked out your salary. I pay Dobby, for goodness sake."

"Harry," began Lupin, "I am not completely indigent. I do have a little money. I just need to watch what I spend."

"I have plenty," argued Harry. "It is not fair for you to work for free. Please be honest with me and tell me what a decent salary is for an educated wizard doing weapons research."

"I don't know," said Lupin. "If you want a reasonable number, and since you asked, I would say about seven or eight hundred galleons a month."

"Fair enough. Now it seems that I have found out what Tonks wants for my birthday. Since I gave her your present, I will give hers to you."

He leaned over the chair and whispered, "Dobby. Take Remus and get two thousand galleons out of Gringotts and give it to him."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said the elf. He looked to Remus for permission to take him.

"Harry," said Remus, "I don't feel right taking your money."

"I don't see why," said Harry. "You are working very hard for it."

Turning back to Dobby, he said, "I also want you to have them deposit one thousand galleons per month into his vault."

Before Remus could speak, Tonks ran back into the room. "Where is he?" she asked the room.

Harry and Ron gave their best innocent looks and Harry said, "I think I heard him downstairs."

She ran off and Remus said, "Thanks, Harry. I owe you one."

Harry said, "Dobby. Give Remus five thousand galleons instead of two."

"Remus," said Harry quickly, "buy your girl a decent ring. Consider it an early wedding present if you must but she is scaring the hell out of me."

"I think you might be right, Harry," said a relieved Remus. He took Dobby's hand and they apparated away.

Two days later, everything, wedding related and otherwise, was starting to come together. Molly had made an agreement to let Winky act as an intermediary between her kitchen and the church's basement reception room. She would carry all of the food to the church's kitchen and Molly would apparate back and forth as needed. A spell was cast on Winky and Dobby to make them look like caterer's assistants. Winky, to everyone's surprise, requested the honor of making the wedding cake. She had hosted many parties at the Crouch residence and had missed the chance to pull out all the stops.

Harry decided to buy new dress robes for his wedding since Hermione would be looking so fabulous. He took Hermione, Ron and Ginny. Ron and Ginny would also be fitted with new robes and Hermione would make sure that they didn't bugger it up. Ron and Ginny ended up with a matched set of two-tone blue robes and Harry went with pure white, to match Hermione's dress.

Linus Lovegood was ecstatic when told that he could accompany Luna and they could bring a photographer. Harry owed him one for doing such a good job on the Dumbledore interview and for helping set up the twin's ads. He would probably get another trip out of this special edition.

Meanwhile, the Weasley twins, with the help of Remus, had finished eight portable Death Eater maps with detectors and they were given to Headmistress McGonagall, Aberforth Dumbledore (also know as the barman at the Hogshead), Mr. And Mrs. Weasley at the Burrow and Fred and George at their shop in Diagon Alley. Ron, Hermione and Harry all also carried a set, just in case. Harry also had a master medallion. It would vibrate if the other detectors discovered any Death Eaters; the more Death Eaters, the faster it would vibrate. It could also be sent more detailed messages from any of the detectors.

They picked up their robes and the finished wedding rings on Friday and it seemed that everything was going too good to be true. It was.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 - The Wedding

August 9th, 1997

Saturday eventually arrived and the preparations were as done as they were going to be. Besides the Weasleys and the Grangers, the other guests included Luna and her father, Neville, Hagrid (enchanted to be less noticeable to muggles), Remus, Tonks, Hermione's Aunt Rose and Uncle Carl with their children Fred, Sam, Julie and Nigel, her Uncle Tom with his friend Laura and the quite elderly Mabel Granger, Dan's mother. Jim and Ruby Sarus were also invited but declined due to their lack of ability to pass for muggles.

Harry and Ron were sitting in a room to the side, waiting for their cue. Hermione had taken Ron's wand, despite his protests that he would be good. Ginny was a bundle of emotions. This was, after all, the end of a nearly lifelong goal of being Mrs. Harry Potter. She did feel good for her friends and the lack of cold feet by either Harry or Hermione indicated that they were, in fact, right for each other.

Emma had gone all out on the flowers for the church. There were approximately two bouquets per person. Dan wondered exactly how many teeth he had to fix to pay for this wedding. Hermione carried miniature lilies in honor of Harry's mother. Dobby was watching Hermione's portable map to make sure no unwanted guests arrived.

Remus and Tonks were given the near impossible task of keeping Fred and George out of trouble. Remus, having headed off the fifth prank set by the twins, had finally gotten them to stop after promising them on his love for Tonks, something they knew he took very seriously, that if one more prank was attempted, he would petrify them both in a sitting position and leave them there until the morning.

Bill and Fleur were both so nervous about their own wedding in a week that it seemed at times that they were experiencing flash forwards; sort of like flash backs but in the opposite direction.

Finally, at noon, the music started and Harry and Ron walked to their positions at the front of the church. Ginny walked to the other side of the pastor and turned and waited. The door opened and Hermione walked in, her brilliant white dress with veil and train outshone the Sun, in Harry's eyes. Only the star on her finger burned brighter. She walked down the aisle to Harry and met his gaze with a smile for the ages. They both knew that if they didn't have any doubts now, they never would. Emma and Molly were both in tears, of course, but smiling broadly.

Reverend Paul began the ceremony with a talk about love and commitment. Harry didn't really hear him, being lost in Hermione's eyes but it sounded nice. About half way through the ceremony, a strange thought entered Harry's mind; "Hey, I'm getting married". It was a surreal moment that didn't really bother him. It was almost as if a spell were lifted. He knew that Hermione was perfectly capable of such a spell but since he still wanted to marry her, he decided it was just nerves.

Reverend Paul asked Hermione a whole lot of questions about her future intentions to love, honor and obey him ("Fat chance" thought Harry). Hermione said, "I do." Harry put her ring on her finger. He was getting nervous and felt a tingling sensation.

He then asked Harry if he would promise to take care of Hermione in just about every circumstance imaginable. The tingling got more intense until Harry realized it wasn't nerves. It was his medallion. Instinctively, he pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it.

"Hermione, come on!" he shouted and pulled her to a nearby room. Looking back, he called, "Just give us a few minutes, OK?" With that he shut the door.

"Harry," said Hermione. "What is it?" She thought that Harry wanted to back out and she was starting to get worried.

"Hogsmeade is under attack!" he said. She sighed in relief.

He grabbed her and they apparated to the top of the astronomy tower at Hogwarts. They could see the whole town from there.

"Harry," asked Hermione, "shouldn't we have brought help?" She looked down at the town and made out what looked like about ten trolls and some destruction on the east end of the village.

"No time," replied Harry. "Hermione, I don't have time to explain. I will need you to cast some defensive spells for me if necessary. Also, you will need to conjure some sort of harness. Can you do that?"

"Sure," she said, "but why do I need to conjure a harness?"

"Climb on my shoulders and I'll explain," said Harry. She looked stunned so he said, "Trust me." He dropped to his knees.

She did trust him and, pulling up her dress, she climbed onto his shoulders. When she was secure, she felt herself rising up very quickly. Her legs were also being spread apart and she had to readjust her position. In a matter of seconds, she was on a very large dragon.

She wanted to be stunned but the wings came out and she realized that she had better make her harness. With a wave of her wand, she produced a sturdy leather belt with a saddle that went around the dragon's ten foot circumference neck. She transfigured it to include a seat belt and strapped herself in. "I'm in!" she shouted.

Instantly, the dragon pushed down with his wings while pushing up with his legs and they were off.

The eyewitness reports of what happened during the attack on Hogsmeade varied in detail a little but a few facts seemed to be consistent. The first thing anyone noticed was a band of trolls entering the village from the east end. They started demolishing the houses and shops while meeting little resistance from the townsfolk. Shortly after that, a few dozen Death Eaters apparated in and started cursing everyone and everything is sight. The panic that ensued prevented any of the villagers who wanted to resist from organizing a meaningful defense. The Ministry was notified but it would take at least fifteen to thirty minutes to organize a coordinated counterattack. At this point, the reports started to get muddled.

Some people said they heard a piercing, high-pitched shriek from overhead. When they looked, a huge dragon glowing red and gold in the noonday sun can hurtling out of the sky with a figure in flowing white robes riding it. She was emitting a terrifying cry that chilled the blood. It stopped when the dragon pulled suddenly out of it's dive and grabbed a troll in each claw. It flew up a couple of hundred feet in the air and released the trolls.

The Death Eaters seemed just as scared as the villagers. A few tried to organize an attack but the dragon spotted them and sent forth a huge fireball that incinerated many of them. At the sight of this, several other Death Eaters apparated away in terror and confusion. The "White Lady", as she was called, had stopped wailing and was firing curses at the stragglers. Some fell stunned but many flew apart as if hit by a powerful explosive. Many thought they saw the glint of a Ring of Power on The Lady's hand. The dragon had burnt six more trolls and ripped the bodies of quite a few Death Eaters apart by now. The villagers, understanding that the Dragon and the Lady were on their side, used the distraction to organize a counter strike and they quickly stunned or killed those remaining. With a loud "POP!", the final troll was dead, his neck crushed by the jaws of the Dragon.

The Lady and the Dragon looked around a moment and then they were flying off over the forest.

Harry and Hermione ran back into the main church a few minutes later and everyone gasped. Harry looked exactly the same as before. Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she had gone sky diving. Her veil was twisted behind her head, wrapped up in her heavily potioned hair. The lace on her dress was covered in small tears in a windswept pattern. She seemed to have lost her shoes.

Noticing the stunned looks, they decided to brazen it out and just went back to their positions.

"I do," said Harry, as if there had been no delay.

It turned out to be a good thing that they had a sympathetic photographer at the wedding. Linus had ordered him to wait until Emma and Molly had fixed Hermione up as much as they could before he took some of the wedding photos for the Quibbler. Harry decided to make a quick announcement before anyone had to leave.

He stood up and got everyone's attention. "If I could have just a moment," he began, trying to phrase it so that the muggles wouldn't understand. "When you read the paper tomorrow, you might have some theories on the headline. Please keep them to yourself. I'll fill you all in later. Thank you." He stood down before anyone could ask anything.

All things considered, he might as well have said "We did something in that room in ten minutes that will be front page news but don't ask us what it was." There wasn't a witch or wizard in the church who didn't want to take Harry and Hermione and shake them by their ears until they told them what had happened but they knew they couldn't until the muggles left.

In the end, they contented themselves with the feast that Molly had made. If all of the food that was brought was actually eaten, they would have needed to enlarge the exit. As it was, the more experienced wedding eaters left just enough room for the cake that Winky had made. She seemed to think that her master planned on inviting the entire student body of Hogwarts because the cake could have easily accommodated them. The lower layer was at least four feet across and six inches thick. This was topped by three separate layers on their own pedestals at different heights which each had three more layers on top of them. The cake itself was in many flavors and the icing was done in the image of a mountain scene complete with a lake, waterfall and at least three types of birds in flight. The muggles were astounded at its beauty and Aunt Rose had even inquired of Winky if she could hire her for her son's wedding next year. When Winky started arguing about being insulted that anyone thought that she was paid for her work, Remus had to step in and apply a slight confundus spell on the woman to distract her into just enjoying the party.

Ron was tying to enjoy himself but he was almost totally lost without a wand. He had been rather taken by Aunt Rose's daughter Julie and was trying to make conversation. The only problem was he had absolutely no frame of reference with her. He had no idea what she was saying most of the time. He did, however, enjoy the way she said it. Whenever he offered to get them something to drink, he would reach for his wand before remembering Hermione had taken it away. This started to cause Julie to think that maybe he was a little cracked. He would offer her a drink and then reach into his pocket as if to pull them out. She also seemed willing to overlook his idiosyncracies.

Arthur and Molly spent most of the evening talking with Dan and Emma. They had forged a quick friendship in the crucible of Hermione's hospital room. The Grangers had worried that the Weasleys would disown Harry and Hermione for breaking up with their children to marry each other. They learned very quickly that Molly and Arthur could no more hate Harry and Hermione than any of their other children since that is how they viewed them. They had nine children, not seven, and they were all loved.

Harry and Hermione, for their part, enjoyed the reception tremendously. They visited with the guests, spending enough time with each to have a meaningful conversation. When they talked with Julie, she asked Hermione all about the strange red-head. She thought that once you got past the strangeness, he seemed pretty nice. Hermione agreed and pointed out Luna, who also fit that description. Luna had very graciously chosen to not wear her new dress. Although she was dying to try it out, she correctly assumed that it would distract people from Hermione, the true star of the night. She had asked to borrow Hermione's new earrings for her wedding. This caught both Harry and Hermione by surprise but she said that she wasn't getting married until she met someone, but she knew she would want to wear them with her dress. Hermione readily agreed, of course.

Neville had been talking with Ginny for quite a while when they were joined by Harry and Hermione. They had gone to the Yule Ball over two years ago and had not really had too much to do with each other since. Now, however, it seemed that Neville and Ginny had more in common than they thought. Both loved herbology and small animals. Both tended to like to be part of a group without being at the center. Both were less powerful magically but had found ways to compensate. They had already made arrangements to browse the woods near the Burrow in a week or so to see what sorts of plants they could find. After a few minutes, Ron and Julie joined them and the six of them spent the rest of the evening talking.

Harry and Hermione's wedding night is their business but it should be stated that Harry did eventually see everything that was bought at Madam Malkin's Dress Shop.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 - The Honeymoon's Over

August 10th, 1997

"Good morning, Harry," said Hermione. She had just spent the best night of her life in the arms of the man she loved. It was past their normal time for breakfast but they didn't get that much sleep.

"Good morning, Hermione," replied Harry. He was just laying there, enjoying the feeling of having his wife in his arms. It was a good feeling. He could have stayed here all day. If fact, they had seriously considered it. Eventually, they decided they needed to keep up their strength. Harry was delegated to the kitchen since he had foolishly told Hermione that one of the byproducts of his animagus form was the ability to make toast in two seconds flat.

He got out of bed, intending to take a shower to try to wake up a little before breakfast. He put on his robe and opened their bedroom door. He shut the door with a slam. He no longer needed the shower; he was awake.

Hermione, seeing all this with half-closed eyes asked, "What's the matter?" She, too, started to get up and throw on her robe.

"Hermione," said Harry, "they're out there." He pointed at the door.

"Who's out there?" she asked.

"It looks like everyone," Harry replied. He decided to forgo the shower for now and just started to get dressed.

"Everyone?" asked Hermione, incredulously. "What do you mean by "Everyone"?"

"Well, maybe not everyone," he conceded as he pulled a shirt over his head. "Just everyone we know."

"Bloody hell," said Hermione as she also started to throw on her clothes. Considering the lack of access either of them had to the views available at this moment, they were decidedly dispassionate. Perhaps it is hard to get excited about your lover when your and his entire family are waiting on the other side of the door.

When they were both properly dressed, they went to the door and stepped into the hall.

About twenty or so family and friends were sitting in chairs that were probably brought up by Winky. Most of them had a copy of the Sunday Daily Prophet. The headline read "Banshee on Dragon saves Hogsmead". There was an artist's rendering of an ethereal wispy specter on a huge dragon. It was burning trolls as the Banshee was wielding some sort of a ring that caused the Death Eaters to explode. "Son of a gun," thought Harry, "that's fairly accurate."

Remus was the first to speak. "Good morning, Harry; Hermione. How was your night?" He was calm and collected as always.

"That's a bit of a personal question, Remus," replied Harry. Hermione blushed and some of the other women giggled.

"I guess it was," conceded Lupin. "Let's get right to the point, then. Could you explain this to us?" he asked as he held up the paper.

"It looks like they didn't have a camera ready," said Harry. "I never did like these "artist's renderings" myself."

Emma spoke up. "Harry Potter! Did you make my daughter ride a dragon into battle in the middle of her own wedding?" She didn't sound like that would be a good thing.

Harry considered and then said, "I might have asked her to help out a little," said Harry weakly.

"Harry!" This time it was Molly's turn. "She could have been killed. I can't believe you. Where were you all that time, anyway." Harry was starting to get the feeling that he should have stayed in bed..

"Well," he began, "I was under her."

Dan said, "You were under her where? Were you on the dragon, too?"

Harry blushed and said, "I was the dragon. It's my animagus form."

"Wicked!" said George, with an impressed look on his face.

"Mr. Potter," said Headmistress McGonagall. "Are you saying that you are an unregistered animagus?" Harry wondered how the hell she found out and got down here so fast.

"I plan on taking care of that just as soon as I lose my mind," replied Harry. About fifteen of the people in the hallway, including McGonagall, laughed at that. They all knew that that sort of information would have to be kept totally secret as long as possible.

"Please, everyone," said Harry. "Let's go have some breakfast and I will tell you as much as I can. I beg you not to inquire further or tell anyone else.

"Be sure to have him make toast for you," said Hermione with a laugh. Nobody understood this joke, yet.

After breakfast, and toast was indeed popular due to the fascinating way Harry could make it by summoning just one aspect of his animagus form and breathing on the bread, they all went into the sitting room and spread out on the available furniture. Winky found a few chairs for those left standing and then Harry and Hermione began to tell their story.

"This is all very secret," said Harry, one more time. "I know I keep saying it but I must make sure you take it absolutely seriously."

"Could you speak a little slower, Harry," said Luna. "I want to make sure I get everything for the Quibbler." She had a notebook and quill.

"Luna!" said Harry before he saw her smile. He had never seen her pull off a joke like that and it really caught him off guard. She put the quill and quite blank notebook down and everyone had a little laugh.

"Bloody hell, where was I," said Harry, under his breath.

Ginny said, "You were about to make us take a blood oath to keep secret the fact that Hermione does a pretty good banshee impersonation when she is riding a dragon in her wedding dress."

"It was scary!" exclaimed Hermione. "He just had to do that dive from fifty miles up."

"It wasn't that high," said Harry. "You just don't like flying."

"No, I don't," she agreed, "but at least on a broomstick, I'm the one steering. I never knew from one moment to the next which way you were going to turn. Who'd enjoy flying on a dragon like that?"

Twenty hands instantly shot up, including, to her surprise, both of her parents.

"Fine," said Hermione. "Next time we're at the Burrow, rides for everyone."

"Can I just run with Hagrid?" asked Harry with a smirk.

"Oy, 'Arry. That would be grand," replied the half-giant. He had been in a state of shock since hearing that his favorite student could become his favorite "interesting" beast. The chance to ride one, although made in jest, was one he couldn't ignore.

Harry, sensing that the meeting was starting to degenerate, asked a question that had been on his mind. "How many were killed?"

This didn't have the sobering effect that he had expected. "The paper says between twenty and thirty," replied Tonks, "although the official reports that I've seen put it at twenty six or twenty-seven. They aren't sure if one that they think was a big wizard wasn't really two smaller ones."

Everyone laughed at this except Harry and Hermione. "How can you laugh when almost thirty people were killed?" he asked indignantly. Did he even know these people?

"Well," replied Fred, "I don't see why you are getting worked up. After all, it was you and your Mrs. doing the killing."

This caught Harry by surprise so Hermione took over. "We don't care how many Death Eaters were killed," she said. "How many of the towns people were killed by the Death Eaters?"

"Oh," said Remus. "None. They seemed to be intent on panic at first and most of the spells were to cause mayhem and destruction. It's their usual method. Several people were injured but not fatally. Eventually, they would have thrown in some killing but they never got the chance."

This had the effect of cheering Harry and Hermione up tremendously. "Well, that's excellent, then," said Harry. "I must tell everyone, although exactly how will be kept to those who know, that the majority of the praise must go to Fred, George and Remus. Their hard worked kept those people from dying." He stopped and applauded them and was followed by everyone else.

For once, neither Fred nor George had anything smartalecky to say. Remus however, said, "We were part of an excellent team. The real heroes, though, were the ones who dove out of the sky."

Harry, sensing that this could get very embarrassing very quickly said, "Alright. Now that we have that all sorted out; who's up to going to the Burrow for dragon rides?"

About three hours later, Harry was starting to get tired. He landed next to the Burrow and Molly climbed through Ron's bedroom window. It was the easiest place to change riders without Harry having to change back and forth dozens of times. Everyone had at least two rides and they were willing to give him a break for a while.

"I'd better start lunch," said Molly, heading off to the kitchen.

"I'll give you a hand," said Emma and the two of them went off to make lunch for thirty. Hermione and Ginny also went to lend a hand. Only twenty or so were there but since that group included Ron and Hagrid, they upped the amount.

While they were waiting, Ron gathered up Harry, Remus and his dad and lead them into Arthur's study. He closed the door behind them and they all sat down.

"What's up?" asked Harry. He knew that Ron wasn't normally this serious and he gave him his full attention.

"Dad," began Ron. "Is Scrimgeour still interested in Harry?" Rufus Scrimgeour had tried to get Harry to publicly sign off on the Ministries actions in the war against Voldemort since taking office. Their last meeting, however, didn't end on good terms.

"He is interested in knowing what Harry and Dumbledore were up to and is probably somewhat interested in knowing what Harry is up to now," replied Arthur. "He has backed off of stopping by twice a week to interrogate me, though."

"Great," said Ron. "We might be able to get him to agree to something that would be mutually beneficial to both the Ministry, the Order and the three of us."

Ron then laid out his plan to trap or kill a large number of Death Eaters. It would be dangerous but, since they would know the time and place and be ready, it would be the best they could hope for in a large battle. Arthur was asked to take the greatest risk as the battle would take place at the Burrow. Actually, two battles; the first would be to get Molly's consent.

Arthur arranged a secret meeting with Rufus Scrimgeour to take place in the Minister's office on Tuesday afternoon at two-o'clock. The Minister would schedule a meeting with Arthur for cover and Harry, Ron and Lupin would arrive in an undisclosed manner so as not to be noticed.

Arthur arrived on time at two-o'clock. Scrimgeour was delayed for a little while with some of his department heads. It was two-thirty when Arthur finally was admitted.

"Good afternoon, Weasley," said Rufus Scrimgeour. "I am sorry for taking so long to tie up some loose threads. It seems that your Mr. Potter is also late so no harm done."

Arthur Weasley was no fool. He knew that the only reason that there was a delay at all was to try to have Harry Potter arrive when Scrimgeour had some loyal minions around. That ploy had been foreseen by Arthur's son and was avoided. He discreetly activated a coin in his pocket. Hermione Granger; no, make that Hermione Potter, had bewitched it with a protean charm so that they would know when he was alone with the Minister of Magic.

A few seconds later, Harry, Ron and Lupin apparated into the Minister's office. Arthur had given Harry a memory he had of the office for his pensieve so that he could apparate in. The wards would be no problem. Harry had practiced on anti-apparition wards almost every day and could get through almost all of them. He thought that if his life depended on it, he might be able to get through Dobby's but any put up by a wizard were no longer a challenge.

"How did you do that?" asked Scrimgeour. He had gotten used to the idea that his office, at least, was secure.

"Good afternoon, Minister. I'm fine, thank you for asking" said Harry. "I hope you are also well?"

Rufus Scrimgeour didn't like being chastised by a school boy but as this "school boy" could probably kick his butt (he had read the reports on the raid on Riddle Manor), he let it go. "Yes, thank you. What exactly is it I can do for you, Harry."

"I would like to get some of them back after a week or so," replied Harry, enigmatically.

"Look, Potter. I've had a long enough day. For the past two days, every idiot who can hold a quill has been owling me, demanding to know who the Banshee of Hogsmeade is and how she tamed a dragon.

"The Banshee of Hogsmead," said Harry. "I kind of like that. It sort of rolls off the tongue better than The Lady and the Dragon. Of course it is a little insulting."

"Be that as it may," interrupted Scrimgeour, "what is it that you want?"

"About sixty aurors this Saturday," replied Lupin.

The Minister of Magic didn't get blustery like Fudge would have. He knew these people and they wouldn't make a request like that if it wasn't likely to be worth his while. "I see," he said. "What is it that you want them to do?"

"Catch Death Eaters," said Ron. "We can arrange for them to be caught in a major trap if they will cooperate."

"Please explain your plan, Mr. Weasley," said Scrimgeour. He had never formally been introduced to Ron but the hair was a dead giveaway.

Ron explained the plan and, with the assurance that they could arrange for both the Lady and the Dragon to be present, he accepted.

"There is one condition that we will require, Minister," said Harry. He had waited until the end so that Scrimgeour would be excited about the trap and less likely to back out.

"And what is that condition, Potter," asked Scrimgeour. He had thought it was too easy.

"As I mentioned at the start of this meeting and for purposes that need to remain secret, we will require at least some of the prisoners back after you have interrogated them. I want you to get all of the time-sensitive information you can, of course. After that, we need them for other things," concluded Harry.

"Do you have the facilities for, I hope, dozens of Death Eaters?" he asked. This sounded a little unbelievable.

"I can take about fifty for now but will probably need more in the future. I will get them here and there with the help of my friends," he replied.

Scrimgeour sat back and said, "I may regret this, Harry, but I will arrange for the aurors. Will you need any other assistance?"

"If The Lady doesn't kill me, I think everything else is covered," answered Harry, smiling broadly.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 - Attack at the Burrow

August 16th, 1997

Lucius Malfoy was not a happy man. The old joke was "If Mom's not happy, nobody's happy". It turned out that was true with Dark Lords as well. The elimination of Albus Dumbledore had succeeded, but at a price. One of the most feared Death Eaters, Fenrir Greyback, was captured by the Potter brat. He also captured a lesser Death Eater and, by several accounts, chased the rest out of the castle in a literally, running battle. His stature had grown to the point that Dumbledore's death had not had the effect that his Master desired. Many saw Potter as the new leader of the Light. The Dark Lord decided to capture or kill him and be done with it. The sole purpose of the Death Eaters after the funeral of Dumbledore was dedicated to the elimination of Harry Potter. Riddle Manor was fortified and populated with countless new Death Eaters. Several trusted, or at least useful, servants would stake out likely areas for any sign of either Potter, the blood traitor Ron Weasley or the mudblood Granger.

It took over a month but eventually it all fell into place. McCord had captured Granger and the sister of Weasley. They sent Granger to the very bowels of Riddle Manor and the Weasley girl was sent to fetch Potter. He remembered feeling very optimistic that day. The fool Potter would come with those Order members he could persuade and they would all die. After that, who could oppose them?

Of course, that went to hell pretty bloody fast. He was checking on the outer defenses when word came that there was trouble with the prisoners. Fearing that the idiots had killed Granger before she was of use, he ran down the stairs. The doorway was blasted and he saw a sight that didn't bode well; pale and ashen faced veteran Death Eaters, puking their guts out. He stepped into the room and just about joined them. Between the stench of the still smoldering flesh, the thick layer of blood on the floor and some sort of a ground raw meat covering the pieces of the rest of the men he had just left, it was a mixture of total revulsion, complete confusion and exhilaration that he wasn't one of them.

And then it got worse. His master walked into the room and asked for a report. He had no idea what to say. He knew that the Dark Lord could tell when he was being lied to so he simply admitted his confusion. It didn't help things when he asked to see McCord and was told that the top half was lying nearby but they weren't sure of which legs were his. In the end, nobody knew how it could have happened and his Master had let it go at that.

Of course that had changed the next day when the newspapers came out. When he heard that it was a solo mission by Potter, he nearly killed everyone in the room. After the fifth loyal servant had died from the Cruciatus curse, he seemed to feel a little better.

They decided to hold off on an attack on Potter's birthday until they could determine or buy the knowledge of how he had done what he did. They never got there so the Dark Lord turned his eye to business as usual. An attack on Hogsmeade was ordered to start the public panic portion of his plan into action. Lucius led that attack and it started off well enough. The trolls were doing some serious damage and he led the Death Eaters in to stir things up. And then that, too, fell completely apart.

A new player had entered the game. It didn't really look that much like a banshee to him but the Dragon looked just about right. His men had barely stopped gaping at it before many of them were incinerated. The trolls weren't very pleased either as they were either dropped from hundreds of feet up, ripped apart in huge jaws or burned to death. They held together a little longer than the Death Eaters. When the banshee started blasting them apart (he thought he caught a glimpse of the Ring), they decided to call it a day and apparated the hell out of there.

Fortunately, the Dark Lord seemed to realize that it wasn't the plan or execution that was at fault. The mudblood incident and the attack on Hogsmeade had both been thwarted by completely unforeseeable events. If twenty-five guards in a locked basement dungeon of the Dark Lords own house isn't secure, what is? Nobody had ever even heard of a banshee riding a dragon before so how could they have planned around her? Clearly, something or someone unknown was at work here. They would have to find out who and how to defeat them.

In the meantime, they needed to try to keep up the terror level in the country. Smaller targets, but more of them, would be chosen. A quick strike and withdrawal would prevent help in any form from arriving. The first would be the wedding of Bill Weasley. This would be a particularly satisfying raid since the Weasley's were known as friends of Harry Potter. The girl had already been used once by himself, several years ago. The youngest boy was a close friend of Potter and the mudblood would also undoubtedly be there. They might not be able to kill Potter but they could kill everyone he cares about.

Nothing was left to chance. He had five disillusioned Death Eaters on brooms constantly searching for any signs of a trap. They had reported that the guests had started arriving about thirty minutes ago. They were all either inside or chatting at the tables under the trees. The Weasleys had apparently hired some house-elves to serve. Once the ceremony was started, they would apparate in and kill them all. The wards were only one hundred yards out from the house so it should be a walk in the park.

Ginny and Hermione were having a nice chat. It was the first time since the wedding that they were all by themselves. Ginny was in a good mood. Apparently, she had enjoyed her time with Neville at the wedding and was looking forward to their date. It was just a walk in the woods to find useful and interesting plants but it was a date to Ginny. She had thought about everything she had known or heard about Neville and, if you got around the lousy wizard part, he was a pretty nice guy.

Hermione was glad that Ginny had found someone so quickly. She didn't know if it would lead anywhere but she was at least moving on. This lead her into reviewing her own life these past few days. She had always heard that the honeymoon was a time to spend getting to know your new spouse. You would walk and talk and just live with each other until it became a way of life. So why was she sitting on a broom in her wedding dress two miles up hiding under an invisibility cloak with her husband's last girlfriend? Not that it wasn't a little fun. She and her mother had spent the last couple of days modifying her already ruined wedding dress to more closely resemble a banshee's rags and to prevent her from becoming the Amazon on a Dragon if more of the fabric blew away.

Harry was in the kitchen of the Burrow, standing next to Mad-eye. Mad-eye was watching the area around the Burrow for unwanted guests. He had one eye on the map in front of him and the other, blue swivelling eye looking everywhere else. Except for the scouts, he didn't see the main force of Death Eaters yet. Harry was watching as Fleur and Remus were smooching in the corner. Fleur didn't have that radiant beauty that she usually had but she looked the same. Remus seemed to like it, however and Harry wondered how Tonks would take his attraction to a woman who looked like that. She apparently didn't mind since she had transformed into her. It did cause a lot of the guests to give a double take when they walked in the door. They would be asked for a strand of hair and then were whisked off to Hogwarts by a house-elf where the Grand Hall was decorated to the nines. It was indoors but the grounds outside were set up for the reception.

Back at the Burrow, a goblet of polyjuice potion was poured and the hair put into it. An auror would drink it and become the guest. Harry would transfigure their clothes to match the real guest and he or she would then walk back outside. It was almost time for the ceremony.

All the guests had arrived and were in their seats. He smiled as he saw his own replacement sitting next to Hermione. A now very red-headed and polyjuiced Remus was waiting for Fleur in anticipation. She came down the aisle in a beautiful dress. Harry knew that Remus was praying for the attack to start before he said "I do." He got his wish.

Harry heard dozens of pops just as Mad-eye said "They're here!" He ran into the yard where the aurors were getting into formation for a battle.

"Erectus Cilisis Orbis!" he shouted as he twirled his wand over his head. Instantly, a huge circle of bedrock pushed through the earth so that they were temporarily shielded from the Death Eater spells.

"Dobby, five seconds and then do it!" he called. Dobby nodded and the house-elves all disappeared.

Harry then concentrated on a wisp of cloud he saw way up in the sky. He apparated to it and immediately found himself falling. Transforming to his animagus form, he slowed and hovered. Within a few seconds, he saw Ginny and Hermione, newly free of the invisibility cloak and streaking towards him. Ginny pulled close and Hermione conjured another harness. This one had more straps and a higher back. She then leapt from the broom, not without a little hesitation, onto Harry's back and crawled to the seat. When she was finally secure, she shouted, as before, "I'm in!"

Instantly, Harry dove. Ginny was thinking "You don't need that banshee cry yet, Hermione. Save it until they can hear you."

The house-elves had done their job. They apparated just past the Death Eaters and cast their own anti-apparition wards on them. At first, Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eaters didn't notice the lack of ability to leave. They were blasting away the barrier that had appeared. Then they heard the dread wail of absolute terror and were afraid. Malfoy looked up in amazement. How had she come so quickly? He had discussed just this possibility with his master and they had decided to pull out if things got bad. He was about to order a retreat when the shadow of the dragon covered him and he decided to just get his butt out of there. Unfortunately, he couldn't. By the time he realized that he couldn't apparated away, he could see very little except a large red and gold dragon. He did see a glimpse of the Ring before being engulfed in a fireball. He and about twelve of his men burst as their blood was instantly vaporized.

The Dragon pulled up, a Death Eater screaming in each claw. He held them in front of himself and Hermione hit them with an expelliarmus, relieving them of their wands, before they could recover.

The Harry Potter shaped auror, the exceptionally brave Kingsley Shacklebolt, using the sonorus spell, called down, "Surrender or Die! You have until the Dragon and the Lady returns to throw down your wands and raise your hands." He jumped back behind the barrier.

The Death Eaters were fanatics but most weren't complete fools. As they saw the Dragon turn, they dropped their wands. The aurors stormed over the barrier and summoned the wands. It was over. The Death Eaters were being searched and prepared to be portkeyed to the Ministry.

Hermione fixed her veil as Harry landed next to Shacklebolt. He dropped the two Death Eaters he had and, with a wink, took off quickly, the Banshee leaving them with her shriek.

This was the part that Hermione was really not looking forward to. Ginny had landed on Harry and was next to Hermione. As a skilled quidditch player, she was used flying. Even so, she had her reservations about this. They both clung to the dragon's neck; Ginny also holding on to the firebolt. With absolute terror in her eyes, Hermione shouted, "Ready!"

Harry changed back into a wizard. They began falling but the women held on to him. He turned to make sure of his grip as well and then, with a pop, drowned out by Hermione's scream, they were in the Great Hall. "It was amazing how well the acoustics are in this place," thought Harry as the echo's of Hermione's cry slowly died down.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 - Give the Guy a Hand

August 17th, 1997

Harry, Ron and Hermione had a problem. How do you tell someone who you used to hate that their father, who you had very good reason to hate, is dead? And you killed him. It could very well destroy all of the progress he had made in the last month. They had to tell him, though; and soon. The Sunday Daily Prophet was due in just a little while and if they withheld it, he would know something was up and since he would eventually find out anyway, that also could set him back. Of course, the fact that Harry was a dragon and Hermione was dressed as a banshee at the time was top secret. The paper will say Lucius Malfoy was killed by a dragon. Harry will say he was killed by Harry. One plus one equals ...

Harry got up. Hermione and Ron followed suit. "I think I had better be honest," said Harry. "The dragon cover won't last forever and he won't be getting out of here for at least three weeks, anyway."

"How is he getting out of here at all," asked Ron. He had not been part of the conversation between Harry and Grampa.

Hermione, who was Harry's wife and occasionally just talked to him in bed, knew the plan. Harry had talked to Headmistress McGonagall the week earlier, just as he promised Grampa. She had reluctantly agreed to consider the matter, but would make a final decision only after she had an interview with Draco. McGonagall would be the one with her head on the Governor's chopping block if anything happened and she wanted to be sure.

Hermione said, "Grampa thinks that if we have McGonagall disguise him and Harry gives him a new arm, he could finish his last year." She thought of the irony of the fact that none of them had given themselves a chance of attending Hogwarts this year and now it looked like all of them would.

"You can give him a new arm, Harry?" asked Ron, his mouth gaping in wonder. "I don't seem to remember that topic being covered in class."

"I would say the topics you don't remember would fill a fairly thick book, Ron," said Hermione. Both Harry and Ron laughed. Neither of them had taken their school work half as seriously as Hermione and they knew it. Nevertheless, Ron was sure he would have remembered something like that.

"McGonagall showed me how to do it," replied Harry. "It is mostly a visualization problem, like the wandless magic but with a wand." He thought about it for a moment. "You know," he continued, "it could also be a good incentive for the run of the mill Death Eaters. Even Draco would probably appreciate having some sort of a left arm, even if it wasn't his. I think I will do that first, before, you know, telling him I killed his dad. It might help remind him which side he wants to be on."

They went out to Draco's cell. He was reading a book that Hermione had brought him. It was about a wizard, a group of dwarves and something called a hobbit. Draco thought it started out fairly slow but was building nicely. He put it down when he saw them approaching. He had given up the tough act; what was the point?

"Good morning, Draco," said Harry.

"Good morning," said Draco, gesturing towards the three of them. "What brings all of my wardens into my cell this morning?"

Harry said, "I'm afraid I have some bad news, Draco. Before we get to that, I also have some good news. Please pull your robes up over your left shoulder."

This confused Draco but he complied. Harry then cast the spell that he had practiced with Minerva McGonagall. A swirl of silver appeared in the air. Slowly, as Harry concentrated on it, it began to elongate and solidify into an arm. With a wave of his wand, Harry got it to attach to Draco's stump. Finally, he changed the color to that of the rest of Malfoy's skin. It wouldn't pass as a real arm, but it would work and be fairly unnoticeable.

Draco was able to move the arm about and manipulate the hand. After a few moments experimentation, he said, "Thanks, Potter. Now I can properly wash my other hand."

"You might be able to do more than that, Malfoy," said Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore has asked Harry to speak on your behalf to Headmistress McGonagall. You might be allowed back for your seventh year."

This had a tremendously surprising effect on Draco Malfoy. He turned to Harry and then back to Hermione. With a stunned expression on his face, he asked, "Are you kidding me, Granger?" He looked fit to burst.

Hermione couldn't help a smile. "She said she wanted to talk to you first to make sure but she will probably go along with it since Grampa gave his consent. By the way, the name is Potter."

This was probably the most problematic sentence Draco had ever heard. "Who's Grampa? And what do you mean, the name is Potter?"

"Sorry," replied Hermione. "I meant Dumbledore gave his consent. And I am now Hermione Potter." She held up the engagement and wedding rings.

Malfoy didn't know which question to pursue. In the end he maintained both. "How did Dumbledore give his consent if he his dead and when, exactly, did you become Pot..., er, Harry's wife? I believe when I arrived, you were calling Weasley your boyfriend."

About then, Dobby popped in with breakfast and the Sunday Daily Prophet. Hermione quickly grabbed it and, after glancing at the headline, held it to her chest and nodded to Harry.

Harry said, "We have a portrait of Dumbledore and Hermione and I were married last Saturday. The details can wait." Harry paused and motioned towards the table and chairs and said, "Please, have a seat, Draco."

Draco sensed the palpable change in the mood and sat down. He thought there was only one possibility for a front page story to have such an effect and started to realize why they were all there. It was for support.

"It's my dad, isn't it?" He didn't need to see the nods to know it was true. "Well, let's get it over with. What happened?" he asked, reaching for the paper.

Hermione didn't give it to him. Instead, she showed it to Harry and Harry winced. "Of all the bloody pictures they could have used," he muttered. It was an excellent shot of Dragon Harry flying in and incinerating Lucius Malfoy and several of his fellow Death Eaters. The aurors had set up a few auto-cameras to record any action that might take place.

"We, I mean you, might want us to remove that picture. It actually shows him being killed," said Harry to Draco.

Draco sat still for almost a minute. Nobody said anything. They just waited with him. No matter what you might think you feel for your father, it is always a shock when he dies. Finally, he reached out his hand to Hermione, mutely asking for the paper.

She handed it to him and he set it on the table in front of him. He looked at the picture for quite a while, mostly at his father. Eventually, he noticed the rest. "This is the same Dragon and Banshee that saved Hogsmeade last weekend?" he asked.

Harry said, "Yes. Ron deduced that Voldemort had taken too many hits to his credibility. We planted some insulting stories in the paper about how Bill was one of the ones that fought at Hogwarts and how the Weasleys in general had done quite a bit of fighting against him. There were also mentions about how I would be there along with Hermione. They couldn't pass it up."

"So it was a trap," said Draco. "You used the entire Weasley family as well as yourselves as bait?"

"The only blood Weasley there was Ginny. She was on a broom about ten thousand feet up with Hermione. Everyone else was an auror or just as good. When the attack started, Dobby and the elves cast anti-apparition wards to prevent an escape. I cast a spell erecting a barrier around the Burrow and then apparated to Ginny and Hermione."

"So you were all safe when the Lady and the Dragon showed up," said Malfoy.

"Actually," said Hermione, "I'm the Lady and Harry is..."

Draco looked back at the picture. "Harry is the Dragon," he said. Harry had killed his father. That was what they had come to say. "I would like some time alone to think, but first," he paused. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. "I want to know if you knew he was there when you attacked."

"No, Draco," replied Harry. "It was the first time that we know of where a high level Death Eater had been personally involved and I just went for the largest group when I dove in. I didn't look for anyone in particular."

Draco nodded. Then he smiled a bit. "You dove in from ten thousand feet?" Looking at Hermione, he said, "That explains the Banshee scream."

Hermione blushed and said, "It didn't help that I was in my wedding dress, either." She went over and gave Draco a hug, which surprised him. Draco sat down with the paper and the three of them left.

August 19th, 1997

The following Tuesday, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco apparated to the waiting room outside McGonagall's office. Harry knocked and, after receiving permission, opened the door.

"Good morning, Miss Gr... Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy" said McGonagall. "Please, everyone be seated." They spread out and sat in the hard backed chairs provided. Harry missed the comfortable ones that Dumbledore always conjured.

"Before we begin, I would like to offer my condolences on the death of your father, Draco," she said. She had to leave it at that since he was a cold-blooded, murderous Death Eater.

"Thank you, Headmistress," replied Draco. He had been thinking along the same lines as her and had also chosen to leave it there.

"I have been informed that you have shown remorse for your actions leading up to the death of Albus Dumbledore, Mr. Malfoy. The three others present have informed me that you have cooperated to the fullest extent of your ability to aid them on their mission. I am unaware as to the nature of that mission but I am willing to take their word on it. Also, Dumbledore's portrait," she indicated the portrait over her desk, "has also indicated that he believes your repentance is genuine and he is willing to forgive you."

Draco had not looked at the portrait since entering the room. When McGonagall had finished, he took a deep breath and looked up. "Professor," he said in a very subdued voice, "I was an evil fool. I let my emotions and desire for revenge against you and Potter get the better of me. I joined the Death Eaters as a way to revenge my father's capture. I had no remorse for anything I did until we met on the tower. I should have taken your offer but I was still too scared to do the right thing. I didn't realize that there are worse things than death. Eventually, it took the suffering of a remarkable young woman to finally save me. For all that I have done to you and everyone else, I apologize."

"I accept your apology, Draco," said Dumbledore. "It might surprise you to know that it was your intense dislike for Harry, Hermione and Ron that led me to believe in your redemption. If they were willing to speak on your behalf, I have to believe that they are convinced. I welcome you to the start of the rest of your life. It does, however, still fall to Minerva to make the final decision."

McGonagall looked very put out. "Thanks, Albus," she said. "It isn't as if I can turn around and say I'm against giving Mr. Malfoy another chance after all that." She turned to Draco. "I will say that if you violate the trust I, or I should say, we, are about to put in you, I will have no hesitation in sending you to Azkaban."

"I understand, Headmistress," replied Draco. "I believe that you would be mailing my ashes there after Potter got through with me, anyway."

"True, enough." said Hermione, "although I prefer explosions myself." She was staking her claim to the name "Potter" and wanted everyone to remember it.

"That reminds me, Mrs. Potter," said McGonagall. "Why didn't I get an invitation to your wedding?"

Hermione turned pale. "I wanted to invite you, Headmistress, but I knew you have thousands of ex-students and assumed that you couldn't possibly attend all of their weddings."

"That is true," conceded McGonagall. "However, I do make time to attend the weddings of some of my favorites. I try not to show preference while they are still in school, though. Perhaps it is just as well that I did not attend."

"At least you didn't miss out on the dragon rides," said Harry. The Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had turned nearly beet red from laughing and screaming during both of her rides.

"Although I enjoyed them very much, I would appreciate it if you didn't spread that story around, Mr. Potter. It might be misinterpreted by some," said McGonagall, turning a little pink.

"If you enjoy them so much," said Hermione, "perhaps you can take a turn as the Banshee." She was the only one at the Burrow that refused the rides.

"It wouldn't work as well," said Ron. "To scream like that you have to really mean it." Everyone, including Draco and Dumbledore, laughed.

"Let us turn back our attention to Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall. "I have consulted with Albus and he believes that a change in hair style and color, along with fake glasses and perhaps a slight modification to your vocal cords done by Madam Pomfrey should be sufficient if we place you in another house. We will need a new name and fake history but you will have a few weeks to work on that. As to the house you will go in, I haven't yet decided."

"Excuse me," said a voice from across the room, "I believe that is my job." It was the sorting hat. Apparently, it had been listening.

"You have already placed him in Slytherin, Hat," said McGonagall. She was not on good terms with the sorting hat since she hated it's songs.

"I don't have to stick with my first choice," said the hat. "Ask Potter about that." It then added, "I mean the one that has always been a Potter," nodding towards Harry.

They all looked at Harry. "It's true. I had heard so many bad things about Slytherin that all I did under the sorting hat was beg it not to put me there. It said I would do well there but finally let me go to Gryffindor."

"Very well," said McGonagall, getting up to get the hat, "but if you put him in Slytherin, I will overrule you."

"I know he can't go in Slytherin," replied the hat. "I might put him there anyway, out of habit. Can't remember the last Malfoy that wasn't suited for that house."

McGonagall put the hat on Malfoy's head. It thought for a moment and started muttering to itself. "My, my; you have changed, haven't you?" he asked. "You still haven't completely changed but there is a lot of difference from before. Let's see, you didn't get any smarter so Ravenclaw is out. You aren't exactly a team player yet so there goes Hufflepuff. I guess that means..."

"Oh, no," said Ron.

"Oh, YES!" said the hat. "Gryffindor."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - The New Guests

August 27th, 1997

As far as the Minister of Magic was concerned, Potter could keep them forever. The thirty-four surviving Death Eaters were only useful in underscoring what he already knew; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was having staffing problems. The life expectancy of a Death Eater was getting pretty short. At least those that ran into Potter. Twenty-six dead for kidnaping his girlfriend (no survivors), twenty-six more when they attacked Hogsmeade (with eight captured) and thirteen, including Lucius Malfoy, at the Weasley fake wedding (with another thirty-four captured). At least he is letting more of them surrender. It was officially the Lady and the Dragon who got the credit at Hogsmeade but Potter had arranged to have them at the wedding so they must have some sort of a relationship. That's what? He had to get out a scrap of parchment and a quill, a point not lost on him. One-hundred-and-seven Death Eaters lost one way or the other. In about a month's time. To a seventeen-year-old kid. In twenty-four years, he had caught or killed eighty-four. That used to be pretty impressive.

When the trap at the Burrow was proposed and the terms laid out, he had wondered why Potter wanted the Death Eaters. He had been decent enough about it. He let the Ministry interrogate them first to get what they could. Then, they had been sent to Azkaban, as usual. The difference was the guards. By request of Harry Potter and by order of the Minister of Magic, they had instructions to not enter the prisoner's quarters on the ship. That was all he had to do to fulfill his end of the agreement. By the time the ship pulled in, all of the prisoners were gone. That news would also leak out and make it even more difficult for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to recruit new Death Eaters. Between getting cut in two, burned alive or just coming up missing, there was not a lot of up-side to being one now. Scrimgeour decided he didn't need to know what Potter wanted them for after all.

The Fortress of Solitude was starting to remind Harry a little too much of an abattoir. While they weren't killing the captured Death Eaters, by necessity they had to stun them and then sever their left arms. They did this out of sight of those waiting in line, of course. They had temporarily prepared an area on the other side of the snake door to hold the prisoners that Harry had removed from the ship. Harry had made another matching pair of apparition points on either side because they needed the extra room. One by one, they would be apparated by either Harry, Ron, Remus or Tonks to the other side. Hermione would write their name on a tag and tie it to their left arm. The Death Eaters didn't understand why this was done but it wasn't threatening so they didn't resist. The prisoners were then stunned and Hermione would remove their left arms. Dobby or Winky would place the arms in an environmentally sealed container and take them to the coal mine in Wales. The prisoners were then placed in the next available cell and enervated. Harry had gotten permission for the house-elves to transport the arms by simply asking the prisoners' permission in the form of an offer and a joke. "If you give the house-elves permission to transport your butts or any other parts of you around as needed and want a nice dinner every night, raise your hands. If you don't want to let them help transport you and want bread and water for the next six months, keep your hands down." Naturally, nobody fought against such a seemingly reasonable request with such dire consequences. With so many, there could be little distinction between the small and medium cells. Even a few of the nice cells would have to be used until more of each type could be built. The prisoners would be interrogated once they were all processed and safely locked up.

Hermione did her job with ruthless efficiency. The others were glad she had relieved them of the burden. Her only request was that no one talk to her casually until she was done and the extended obliviate spell was removed. She had no desire to remember any of this. The prisoners, of course, knew nothing about the state of her memory. They had just walked into her work area with two arms. Smiling, she had asked them their name and written it down on a note which she tied to their left arm. The next thing they knew, they woke up in a cell with just their right arm. They could see the other prisoners; no one had a left arm. Some of them knew that a girl who fit her description had been captured. This had resulted in the deaths of over twenty of their fellow Death Eaters. They did not like the bushy-haired witch but they definitely didn't want to get on her bad side, either.

Harry and Hermione, having done most of the heavy lifting that day (Harry, by making seventeen trips to the ship and back and Hermione, by cutting off thirty-four arms), decided to leave the initial interrogations to Ron, Remus and Tonks. With the last arm removed and stored, they headed back to their bedroom to take a newlywed nap; meaning they would eventually get a nap.

Back at the Fortress, Ron, Remus and Tonks had decided that they would start with the basic information from each prisoner for a start. With thirty-four of them to interrogate, they used a dose of veritaserum on each and asked for just their name, age, time of service, names and relative rank of their superiors and all places they visited within the last month. With an average time of ten minutes each, this would take until the evening. Tomorrow, they would do a preliminary analysis and determine which prisoners to question first for further information. Tonks knew that it would be the better part of two solid weeks before they would be able to gather the amount of information they wanted with just the five of them. Before that time was up, the three teens would be back in school and their contact with the prisoners would be limited. She might have to take a leave from the Ministry to keep up. This didn't bother her so much because she was more active fighting Voldemort with Harry than she had ever been with the Ministry. She looked at the exquisite diamond ring Remus had given her. She might just want some time off anyway to spend some "quality" time with her fiancé. She wondered idly just what would happen if you crossed a werewolf with a metamorphmangus. An early retirement for McGonagall, she guessed.

Around five o'clock, Harry and Hermione stopped back. Harry took over for Ron, who had gotten a little off target without Harry and, especially, Hermione to keep him focused. He had started to ask the Death Eaters how they would go about asking out a muggle girl. Surprisingly, under veritaserum, many of them admitted to dating muggles and had some useful tips. When Hermione saw his notepad and the gradual shift of the notes he had taken, she promised to try to figure out a way for him to meet Julie again (she had also expressed an interest) and sent him to take a break. She brought in the next Death Eater and noticed that he was the brother of Marcus Flint, the old Slytherin captain and chaser. The decided to make the most of the time under veritaserum and, after asking the required questions, inquired on whether or not his brother had also joined up.

"Yes," said Michael Flint. "He joined just after Dumbledore was killed." He had the blank look you get from veritaserum but it looked a little more uncomfortable that normal.

"Where is he now?" asked Hermione, hoping for another easy capture.

"Dead," replied his brother. "He was at Riddle Manor when Potter came."

There was no need to elaborate. Neither of them would ever forget that day. Still, it was strange to have the brother of someone you had killed sitting in front of you. At least the Flints didn't have two sons whose deaths they could blame on Harry. They decided to leave it there and finished the rest of the prisoners.

It was evening, not that you could tell in the Fortress, and they decided to call it a day. Harry went to the center of the cell area and activated the sound on all of the cells. Putting his wand to his throat, he said "sonorus". He then said, "Attention. You are all now our prisoners. No one can find you. No one can get into this chamber but us and the house-elves. You will be well treated; better than Azkaban. There are no dementors here. However, we will expect cooperation. Some of you are in better cells than others for now. This will change as soon as we build more cells. You will start in the smallest cells but you will be given the opportunity to improve your circumstances. Your left arm bore the dark mark. That mark is traceable and had to be removed. We did not take your arms for any other reason than security. Your arms should be able to be reattached in the future. That will only happen when Voldemort is dead. I can produce a usable arm similar to the one that Voldemort made for Wormtail, who you might know as Peter Pettigrew. This will be one of the improvements in your conditions that will come only through cooperation. The house-elves are called Dobby and Winky. Treat them poorly and you will wish you were in Azkaban. They both have been ordered to serve only bread and water to anyone who is disrespectful or otherwise unkind to them. Again, it is up to you. Sleep tonight and we will be talking some more in the future."

Harry cancelled the sonorus spell and reactivated the silencing charms on the cells. Before leaving, He stopped to talk to Dobby.

"Dobby," he began, "Before you start construction on the new cells, please find out how much money is left in the vault I inherited from Sirius. I might have to start using the one from Dumbledore." Harry had received the key to vault ninety-two but had not checked into how much gold it contained. He had plenty of money from Sirius but these cells must cost something.

Waving goodnight to Dobby, he took hold of Ron and Hermione's hands and took them back to Grimmauld Place. Tonks and Lupin knew enough places in the country to eventually apparate back by themselves. They enjoyed it, actually, and tried to take a different route each time.

August 28st, 1997

Harry woke with a start. He was still not completely used to sleeping with someone else so he had thrown the covers off and was heading for his robe when he heard a sleepy voice call from the bed.

"Harry," said Hermione, "what's the deal with covering me up. Don't you think I'm beautiful anymore?"

Harry looked back in time to see a groggy but smiling Hermione pushing off the pile of sheets and blankets that he had buried her in.

"I just had a thought and wanted to check with Grampa," he replied. They had moved Grampa into the next bedroom on their wedding night. Harry and Hermione had tried to get in there at least once a day to say hello and keep him informed.

Hermione looked at her clock. It was 5 AM. She decided she didn't want to be a widow yet and simply asked him, "What could be so important that it couldn't wait another couple of hours?" She had gotten up and was also reaching for her robe.

Harry also looked at the clock and said, "I guess it can wait until later." He started to head back to the bed but Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door.

"I'm awake now," she said. "Let's go see Grampa."

They went into the next bedroom. Grampa was dozing in his chair. Harry quietly said, "He's sleeping. Let's come back later."

Hermione was about to agree when Grampa said, "I was just practicing. You never know when something is going to happen in the Headmaster's Office and I wanted to be ready with my fake sleep disguise."

Harry went to the portrait and started examining the frame, very closely.

"What are you doing, Harry?" asked Grampa.

"Checking your frame for water damage," replied Harry, continuing his search.

"What on earth for?" asked Hermione.

"Because he seems to be getting a little warped," said Harry with a grin.

"Where's my wand!" muttered Hermione. Grampa laughed.

"So, Harry," asked Grampa, "what can I do for you?"

"I was thinking about something and it might be important," replied Harry. He noticed that Hermione had an expression on her face that pretty much said "It had BETTER be!".

"Well, let's hear about it, then," said Grampa. He, too, was keeping an eye on Hermione.

"Well," began Harry, "I can apparate just about anywhere I want because I have enough power and endurance. I was wondering why Voldemort doesn't do the same thing."

"Harry," said Grampa. "I'm surprised you haven't figured that out." Turning to Hermione, he asked, "Perhaps you could tell him, Mrs. Potter."

Hermione was pleased to hear her favorite name but she, like Harry, didn't know the answer. She didn't want to look foolish so she thought about it for a second. What difference was there between Harry and Voldemort that would allow Harry to apparate better and farther? "It's bloody five in the morning, Grampa," said Hermione. "I don't have a clue."

Grampa laughed again. "There are actually two reasons. First, Voldemort doesn't apparate like you, Harry, because he can't. He can't incorporate love into his magic. He can only use hate and that is not as effective, especially against anti-apparition wards. The second reason is a little more general and random. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. Gilderoy Lockhart, for example, was quite good at memory charms but otherwise was almost completely incompetent. You are naturally good at apparition and your power and ability to use love all lead to an exceptionally powerful ability to apparate, as you put it, pretty much anywhere you want."

"Fine," said Hermione and she went back to bed. She was not quite as perky before she had her morning tea.

Harry and Grampa both waited until she had left the room before continuing. "Why is apparition more successful when you have love mixed with it?" asked Harry. "I understand how the protective power of love leads to stronger reductos but apparition is a pretty passive form of magic."

"The protective facet of love does, itself, have more than one form," replied Grampa. "In the case of anti-apparition wards, the protection is as of a mother holding her child in her arms. She is using herself to shield her child from the outside world and thus keeps the child secure. You feel that love for your friends and it is therefore easier for you than Voldemort to go through these protections since your additional magical ability is based on the same source as the ward itself. You are slipping through the wards more than overpowering them, in a way. Voldemort uses the protection of his Death Eaters to shield himself and therefore exists in a completely contrary fashion than the apparition wards. This makes them more effective against him than perhaps anyone else."

Harry thought about this for a moment. While he was doing that, he was looking around the room. It had become a storage room for all of the things in the house that Dobby and Winky had removed, either by direct order or due to their own decisions. Mrs. Black was in the corner, a permanent silencing charm kept her quiet and a row of very real nails on either side kept her both on the wall and in her own painting. Grampa was very happy about the latter. Next to her was the troll umbrella stand, most notable for tripping Tonks a record seventeen times. Harry chuckled a bit as he couldn't believe that someone so clumsy could possibly be an auror. Behind the troll leg was the Black family tree. Even from across the room, Harry could see all of the scorch marks that Mrs. Black had made when she removed the names of those who didn't live up to her standards. Tonks' mother was gone as well as Sirius and... Harry got up and took a closer look at the tapestry. There was the spot where Sirius had been. It was next to his brother, the Death Eater. Regulus Black.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "Come in here!" He was so excited that he apparently lost his fear of death.

Hermione came running into the room, trying to put on her robe after starting with her arm in the wrong sleeve. Harry and Grampa both stared dumbfounded at her as she kept reaching back, trying to find the nonexistent opening.

"What is it?" she asked, not realizing the show she was putting on.

"I...I...I...," said Harry, thoughtfully. He finally turned towards Grampa, who was staring just as slack-jawed as Harry. Quickly, he turned the photo around.

"Hey!" said Grampa.

Hermione, finally realizing the problem, put the robe on properly and asked again, "What is it, Harry?" She had noticed as Harry turned Grampa around and, now decent again, she replaced the frame to it's original position.

"I... I... was just looking at the Black family tree over here and noticed that Sirius' brother was named Regulus."

Hermione's look could have frozen fire. "Do you WANT separate bedrooms?"

Harry didn't get the connection but he got the drift. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, wondering what it was he was supposed to be sorry for but knowing he had better say it. "Let me explain. Remember the note in the fake locket?"

"Oh, I see," said Hermione. "You think that R.A.B. might be Regulus Black. So all we have to do is find out his middle name?"

Harry, a little disappointed that she caught on so quick, could only say, "Yeah."

"Who would know?" asked Hermione. Although this information, as well as the apparition question could have waited until a decent hour, she was intrigued enough by the fact that it could lead them well on the way to finding a horcrux that she forgot all about killing Harry for waking her twice.

"His mother," said Harry, nodding at the portrait of Mrs. Black. "Maybe we can make a deal with her." Mrs. Black's face was silently screaming her disapproval of their very existence.

"Maybe Grampa could talk to her," suggested Hermione. Turning to Grampa, she asked, "What do you think? Could you try to find out what Regulus's middle name is from her?"

"I'd rather climb Mount Everest in ballet slippers," replied Grampa, "but, since I owe you a favor..." He smiled at her and she eventually figured out what the "favor" was that she had done for him. Blushing, she left the room.

"She seems to hate me so I'll leave you to it, Grampa," said Harry. "Try to think of something she might want besides our heads rolling on the floor. Shall I remove the silencing charm now or would you like to prepare yourself?"

"She has been raging for a while now, Harry, so perhaps she is getting winded. Let's do it now," said Grampa, clearly not excited about this task.

Harry cast the counter-spell and then he also left the room, trying to think of some alternate options for finding out someone's middle name.

Harry returned to their bedroom to find Hermione already getting dressed. He decided that he might as well get up, too, and in a few minutes they were both heading out the door. As they walked by Grampa's room, they could here what sounded like a heated argument. Mrs. Black was screaming her usual complaints about mudbloods, halfbreeds and blood-traitors living in her house and Grampa was shouting back just as loud about what a gigantic witch she was; at least Harry thought he said "witch".

They continued down to breakfast where they found that Winky, either hearing or sensing their approach, had started cooking her usual deliciously artery clogging collection of bacon, caldron cakes, eggs, toast, juice and tea. Hermione had a reasonably sized portion of each. Harry did as well, at first, and then went back for seconds and, in the case of the caldron cakes, thirds. By the time he had finished, Hermione was on the last page of the Daily Prophet. She looked up and saw him looking back. They both smiled, remembering the way that Ginny had described for deciding who they wanted to be with.

"Anything good in the paper?" asked Harry. He was seriously considering asking for dessert but thought that it might be a little much, considering what he had just eaten.

"It seems that a load of Death Eaters have escaped," she said, completely calm as if discussing an upcoming flower show.

"WHAT!" said Harry. He jumped to his feet and ran next to her. The headline read "MASS ESCAPE OF DEATH EATERS". Harry hurriedly read on and Hermione laughed. He noted her odd sense of humor but decided to leave it for now as he scanned the paper for details. Then it hit him; he had been the mastermind behind the "escape". Hanging his head in disgust at his own stupidity, he went and sat back down.

Later that morning, as Harry was reading the Prophet and Hermione was browsing her book case (something that she expected would take her years to complete, even in a cursory fashion), Remus and Tonks came down from their room. Remus looked a little tired but when didn't he? Tonks seemed to be pretty chipper, though.

"Good morning, Remus, Tonks," said Harry. "How was your night?" This question had become a bit of an inside joke since the day after Harry and Hermione's wedding.

"Well, now that you ask," began Tonks, leaning in conspiratorially, "we"

"Tonks!" shouted Lupin. "That is not the sort of information I want discussed at breakfast." He seemed pretty adamant about it.

"OK, OK," said Tonks, "we'll wait until later. I need to catch my breath anyway."

Lupin was turning a most peculiar shade of red for a werewolf. Harry had pity on him and changed the subject.

"I think I might know who R.A.B. was," he said. "It came to me as I was visiting Grampa this morning. If we can find out what Sirius' brother Regulus' middle name was, it might be him."

"If you don't mind the ministry finding out that we are interested in him, I might be able to look it up in the Hall of Records," offered Tonks. As an auror, she would have access but would have to report the names and reasons for checking the records of a private citizen.

"We'll see if Grampa has any luck first," said Harry. He would like to keep this information secret if he could.

"It didn't sound that way when we were walking by his room," said Remus. "I never knew he had it in him to talk that way to a woman."

"True enough," said Tonks. "If he wasn't already dead, I'd be afraid he was going to give himself a heart attack."

"Perhaps I can reason with her," said Harry. He got up and walked out of the room. Hermione followed. Remus and Tonks had not finished breakfast yet but were intrigued by how Harry could possibly "reason" with that particular portrait.

As they approached the room, a hail of curses flew out the door that would have curled, or in Hermione's case, straightened, your hair. Harry, totally ignoring the onslaught, walked into the room. He addressed Grampa first.

"Any luck?" he asked. Grampa looked at him through sweat-soaked hair and bulging eyes.

"The only luck I want is to be able to see that witch burn at the stake!" he yelled. It seemed that he hadn't made a new friend after all.

Harry looked at the portrait of Mrs. Black and laughed. "Winky!" he said.

"Yes, master," came the near instantaneous reply. Hermione went to correct her use of the word "master" but Harry raised his hand to silence her.

"Bring me a dozen axes, Winky," he said coldly. The elf disappeared. The room became a little quieter. Mrs. Black had even stopped shouting, wondering what was going to happen when the elf returned.

Harry took the opportunity to ask her, "What was the middle name of your son, Regulus?"

"I'll not help a half-blood mudblood lover find out anything," she spat. "You and your tainted friends can just"

Just then Winky came back. "I have found eight axes so far, master and will keep searching for the other four," she said.

Before she could pop away, Harry stopped her. "This might be enough, Winky," he said. "We'll see how reasonable this old hag can be."

"Old hag?" she cried. "Have you looked at your mudbl..."

THUNK! Harry drove an axe into the center of the painting. Mrs. Black only just ducked under it. She couldn't escape the painting because of the nails and she had to squeeze into the area left on the right side of the axe.

"What do you think you..."

THUNK! The next axe went in just over her head as she ducked. She had a worried look on her face now.

"What was the middle name of your son, Regulus?" asked Harry calmly, picking up another axe.

"Why do you want to..."

THUNK!

She now had to lay on the floor and didn't really have anywhere else to go.

"Aries!" she cried. She closed her eyes as Harry picked up another axe.

"Thanks," said Harry. "Winky, please remove the axes from this portrait and see that it is restored. I want a rack for the axes built there," he said, pointing right next to the frame. They left the room, knowing that Mrs. Black would have a little more to think about now than mudbloods and half-breeds.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 - Train Ride to Hogwarts

August 31, 1997

It just didn't seem to make any sense at all. They had been coming to the Fortress of Solitude, located thousands of feet below Hogwarts, almost every day for over two months. Remus and Tonks made their own way there whenever Remus wasn't working with the twins at their Diagon Alley shop. Harry side-along apparated both Ron and Hermione unless Dobby was heading that way anyway. So why, wondered Harry, were they going to get on that slow, noisy, crowded, shaking rust-bucket of a train and sit there for eight hours?

Hermione, of course, told him it was their duty and responsibility as Head Boy and Girl to inform the Prefects of their assignments, to make sure the first years all got on and off safely, and to make sure nothing else was allowed to get out of hand. Harry thought that after attacking dozens of Death Eaters, both as a human and a dragon, confiscating Fanged Frisbees from third years would be a little bit tame.

Nevertheless, he knew she was right. Ron had not put up this much of a fuss. He had accepted their reduction from front line warriors to school traffic guards with more grace than Harry had. They did, after all, deserve a break. After Mrs. Black was persuaded to cooperate, they were confident that Regulas Black was the R.A.B. of the locket. Hermione and Ron both remembered that there had been a locket that they couldn't open during the initial cleaning of Grimmauld Place. Neither one could remember what had happened to it, though.

It was Harry who, remembering that house-elves like Winky are neither incompetent nor incomplete, suggested that she be asked if she had seen a locket with an "S" on it. It turned out that she had come across it five times. Each of the times she had cleaned the cupboard where Kreacher had slept, she had noted the locket, as well as the other contents of his den. Harry was holding the horcrux within ten seconds of asking for it. If only the others would be that easy.

Hermione had received another lesson in house-elf psychology that day. She had wanted to reward Winky so she gave her the rest of the day off. Winky broke down in tears and begged forgiveness for whatever she had done to deserve such a punishment. Harry had to leave the room before bursting out in laughter as Hermione, the champion of elf rights, had to assign extra duties to Winky to get her to calm down.

Now the locket was in the safe in the office of the Fortress and it would stay there until a suitable means of disposal was determined. Dumbledore's notebook had listed a few possibilities although Grampa had said that he used the best one he could find and it nearly burnt his hand off. Harry decided that they would keep looking, for now.

When Dobby returned from his mission to order more materials for extra cells, he had informed Harry that the amount of gold in vault ninety-two was slightly more than one-hundred-and-fifty million galleons. Apparently, you can make a lot of gold in six-hundred years with a sorcerer's stone. Prisoner's facilities were expanded. The far side of the snake door would be used for several dozen more small and medium sized cells as well as an activity room. Hermione suggested this as a place the more cooperative prisoners could get a little exercise. All prisoners would eventually need to use it or risk muscle atrophy. The basilisk was removed to a display area in a hallway in Hogwarts and the extra room would be used to build some quarters for non-prisoners. Ron surmised that some people might become targets for various reasons and they should have secure and comfortable rooms available. The area next to the statue was high enough for seventeen families of various sizes to be housed on five levels. Dobby had required the use of several Hogwarts house-elves to work on this and they hoped to be finished with all of the projects by the end of September.

Draco Malfoy, after the initial shock, had managed to assume his new identity remarkably well. Grampa and Harry had discussed their options regarding his return and had come to the conclusion that he would need a student or two who could back up his story if necessary. He had to explain how his knowledge of magic was equal to any of the other seventh year's while seeming to have been home schooled for some believable reason. His abysmal knowledge of anything muggle also meant he had to come from a pureblood family. Hermione had come up with the only pureblood family that had enough children in circulation to allow one to go unnoticed. After an application of muggle hair dye and a slight adjustment to his vocal cords by Madam Pomfrey, Dougal Weasley was born. He was said to have a rare and highly contagious disease that only recently was cured. His arm was explained as a byproduct of his illness. To say that both he and Ron were equally repulsed by the idea of Draco becoming a Weasley would be one of the all-time understatements. Eventually, they came to understand the logic behind the decision and accepted it. At the school, only McGonagall, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Draco would know the truth; Madam Pomfrey having done the whole vocal cord adjustment while under the obliviate spell. They only hoped that "Dougal" would sound close enough to "Draco" if any of them slipped up.

Minister of Magic Scrimgeour had become decidedly more cooperative since the trap at the Burrow. Despite the temporary outcry over the supposed "escape" of all those captured Death Eaters, it had still been a major success. The Death of Lucius Malfoy with a dozen of his thugs was good news by itself. When it was discretely leaked that perhaps the prisoners didn't escape so much as "disappear", the public was only too happy to come to a variety of conclusions that put the Ministry in a more favorable light. Even those who deduced that it was Harry Potter or the Banshee of Hogsmeade that had taken them, had figured that at least the Ministry was dealing with effective people for a change. To top it all off, Harry had another meeting in which he presented the Minister with a dozen more of the Weasley relative position maps along with a set of medallions, including a direct link to his master medallion. Harry had required Scrimgeour to sign a Hermione-created secrecy parchment that promised to put Kingsley Shacklebolt in charge of the aurors who would be issued them with a complete description as to the consequences of ignoring the stipulations. The demonstration of them had netted three Death Eaters in the Ministry itself so he was not likely to refuse them.

Harry mused that they had gone, in less than three months, from three teens trying to figure out how to proceed against the horcuxes, Death Eaters and Voldemort to the bane of Voldemort's existence with the ear of both the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Minister of Magic as well as some very useful items and over a hundred dead and captured Death Eaters to their credit. Perhaps a relaxing train ride wouldn't be that bad after all.

Ron, Hermione and Harry waited in the Head's Compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It was still over an hour before the train was scheduled to leave but they wanted to make sure that everything was in place. The Ministry had placed a dozen aurors in the train for added security. Harry and Hermione would meet with the Prefects to assign their patrol areas and times both for the train and for the school term. The Head Students would not be patrolling the train this trip. Hidden under the invisibility cloak, Dobby sat in the luggage rack and watched Harry's map for any Death Eaters. When the train was under way, they would have a rolling two hundred yard buffer around the train (actually, just around their compartment) which would give them several seconds to respond to anything that might come up. It was too bad that large steam locomotives couldn't stop very well in two-hundred yards. Dobby had been specifically ordered to just shout out any threat without using any preamble, honorifics or names. By the time he said "Mr. Harry Potter, sir" there would only be a second or so left to react.

Here in the station, however, there were no Death Eaters in range. Remembering quite clearly that Draco Malfoy had been a Death Eater the entire year, they were also checking the students boarding the train. Harry had talked with Headmistress McGonagall about the contingency of other students arriving with the dark mark. She and Harry had agreed that they would ride the train to Hogwarts but "disappear" upon the first opportunity after they arrived. They would have no freely roaming Death Eaters this year.

At ten o'clock, they left the compartment to wait on the platform in order to assist any students who required their help. Dobby had strict orders to inform Harry if any Death Eaters showed up. Winky would bring Draco at ten-thirty and Ron would start the introductions to a few of the Gryffindors. All Draco would have to do would be remember his name and the fact that everything and everyone was supposed to be new to him.

Eventually, the families started to show up. It was no secret that they were worried this year. After Dumbledore was murdered, the whole of the wizarding world not in league with or supporting Voldemort feared for their lives and the lives of their children. Although he would never believe it himself, many parents had only made the decision to allow their children to return to Hogwarts after learning that Harry Potter was also returning and would be Head Boy. The newspaper reports and rumors had lead many to view him as sort of a Dumbledore in training. If their children would be safe anywhere, it would be with him.

Harry, Hermione and Ron all greeted their friends as they arrived. The new and returning prefects were told to meet in the Head's Compartment just after the train left the station. The replacement Slytherin prefect for their year was Blaise Zabini. Draco had told them that he had always remained neutral with regards to Voldemort, neither supporting nor condemning him or his Death Eaters. They supposed that was about the best they could hope for with the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle had both apparently joined the Death Eaters since neither showed up for the train.

Winky popped in with a decidedly different looking Draco at precisely ten-thirty. If you didn't already know he was really Draco, you would never recognize him. The red hair was an automatic indication of Weasley-hood and the voice change, however slight, was enough to throw you completely off the scent.

"Thanks, Winky," said Draco just before the elf popped away.

"Good morning, Dougal," said Harry, smirking.

"Good morning, Harry," replied Draco. He had to start calling Harry "Harry" to maintain the illusion. "Good morning, Cousin," he said to Ron. Ron cringed a little and Hermione hit him on the back of the head.

"Uh, morning," replied Ron. He may have to pretend that Draco was his cousin but he didn't have to like it.

"Good morning, Dougal," said Hermione. She had noticed the change in Malfoy and was willing to give him a chance sans snide comments. "Are you ready for your first day at Hogwarts?"

"I certainly hope so, Hermione," said Draco. "I is just hoping that I isn't talking like a house-elf," he continued with a smirk of his own. "Dobby has been the only one I could talk to on a long term basis and you can start to talk like him if you aren't careful."

"Tell me about it," agreed Harry and they all laughed.

Dean and Seamus stopped by shortly and they were all introduced to "Dougal". The platform was starting to fill up so Ron, Draco, Dean and Seamus headed off to find a compartment while Harry and Hermione began herding the first years onto the train. Ron and the other prefects joined them shortly and the train started to fill up as the platform thinned out to only parents. The parents started to informally group near Harry and Hermione and he felt a need to reassure them a little.

"Sonorus," he said as he pointed his wand at his throat. Then much louder he said,"I know you are worried about your children but they are as safe at Hogwarts as anywhere. Safer perhaps since they will be in the castle walls surrounded by professors and upper classmen. We," he indicated Hermione and himself, "will be working more closely on castle security than ever before and have the assurance of Headmistress McGonagall that no action will be left undone to insure the safety of the students."

"Are you able to call for help from the Lady and the Dragon if you need it?" shouted someone from the crowd. It had been rumored since the two incidents that there was a connection with Harry and the two new mysterious characters.

Harry looked at Hermione and she nodded to him. "Yes," he said, "we can usually contact them if we need them. I can't say any more than that about them, other than they also care deeply about the safety of the students and other innocents. Now if you will excuse us, we have a train to catch."

He removed the sonorus charm and they both headed for the train. The parents watched in silence, trying to understand why two teenagers managed to fill them with enough confidence to trust their children's safety to them. In the end, the reason wasn't as important as the fact.

At precisely eleven o'clock, the Hogwarts Express started to move out of the station; the magical tracks laying themselves a few hundred yards in front of the train. After it passed over, the tracks removed themselves again, leaving no trace or path for muggles to follow to Hogsmeade or Hogwarts. Within a few minutes, all of the prefects had arrived.

"I see the Chosen One has managed to wrangle a way to become Head Boy," said Pansy Parkinson, Draco's old girlfriend. "How did you arrange that, Potty? Did Granger, here, imperio McGonagall for you?"

"No, actually," replied Hermione. "Harry was made Head Boy in part because he is effective at dealing with Voldemort and his brainless little Death Eater toadies. I agree that doesn't really take much talent but there you are. By the way, the name's Potter." She smiled a little too broadly at Pansy.

"I know his name's Potter, mudblood," replied Pansy.

Instantly, Hermione's wand was in the face of a slightly paler Pansy Parkinson. Harry knew she was just thinking of the best spell to use.

In part to diffuse the situation and in part to prevent Hermione from getting detention for eviscerating Pansy, Harry stepped between them and started to hand out their train and castle schedules. He noted with relief that Pansy would be patrolling the far end of the train. After they left, Hermione turned on him.

"Why did you stop me from explaining that we were married?" she asked. The news had only been given to a few of their friends and the Quibbler article wasn't due out for a few more days.

"How were you going to explain it?" he asked. "It looked like you were going to carve it into her forehead. Besides, I want to focus on getting this train to Hogsmead, not having to deal with every bloody student stopping by to question and congratulate us," he replied. He knew the news was slowly seeping over the dam but it would totally burst if Pansy Parkinson heard about it.

The first three hours of the trip passed uneventfully. Ron and Ginny had stopped in along with Luna and Neville. The six of them talked a while about the events of the summer and their plans for the school year. The food trolley had brought lunch and Harry had bought enough to last until tea. They were all trusted friends so Dobby could take off the cloak for a while but he never let down his guard on the map.

"Say, Ron," said Neville, "Why haven't we ever heard about this cousin of yours before?" Dean and Seamus had introduced Dougal to Neville. Neville had noticed the new Gryffindor blush when he shook Neville's hand. He didn't realize that Draco was remembering the extremely hurtful things he had said to Neville about his parents.

"He comes from my Uncle Durin's family down in Cornwall," replied Ron, remembering the cover story. "He was sick and couldn't be around a lot of people until just this last summer. He's OK now, though." Ron sat back, quite pleased that he didn't bugger the story up.

"Do you think he will be able to fit in with the rest of the seventh years?" asked Luna. "It would be horrible to come into school after being sick so long and not make any friends." She looked very concerned and those in-the-know were touched. Draco would not be able to have any Slytherin friends, regardless of their level of sympathy to Voldemort.

"He'll be fine, Luna," said Hermione. "We'll make sure of..."

"Many Death Eaters in front," said Dobby. His raised voice shocked them all.

"What?" asked Harry, but before Dobby could reply he said, "Stop the train!" to Hermione. Instantly, both apparated away.

Ron told the rest in the car to brace themselves. He then opened the door and shouted, "Brace yourselves, pass it down, quick!" He could hear the first two warnings as he held onto the door frame. The whistle blew once and then the wheels locked up and started to spin in reverse. The train was making a full power emergency stop. But would it be quick enough?

Outside, Harry was on the top of the coal car. Peering ahead, he could see the shapes of several black cloaked figures casting spells on a magically constructed bridge that the train was supposed to cross. They were destroying it. The whistle blew and Harry knew he only had a second before the train would try to stop. He knew it couldn't stop in time and jumped off, transforming into his dragon form as he leapt.

The Hogwarts Express was throwing all of it's power, both steam and magical into stopping but the ruined bridge was only one-hundred yards in front. Harry flew down and straddled the engine with his huge legs. He grabbed the front with his forearms and stuck a huge hind leg down on either side. The engine was buckling under his enormous weight but it was slowing. He was hitting trees and boulders on either side at odd intervals and it felt like his arms would rip off at times but he managed to hang on. The Death Eaters were now very near. They were shocked at what they were seeing but most had the presence of mind to apparate away as the fireball from an enraged and sliding Dragon Harry came their way. Five were not so lucky.

The gorge was coming up fast and Harry didn't know if they could stop in time. He turned his head and blew the coal car apart with a huge ball of flame. The engine was now free. Praying that Hermione and the others in the engine had gotten out, he rolled off the back of the engine into the path of the rest of the train. The engine rolled over the edge and disappeared. He felt the cars hitting him and his wings breaking under the punishment. He was just dead weight now but he knew the remaining cars wouldn't have enough mass to push him over the edge. In a few more seconds, they were stopped. He heard apparition pops all around as the aurors, the members of the D.A. as well as other brave upper classmen, apparated outside to defend the others. The Death Eaters, the ones still alive, had left so it quickly became a rescue mission.

Harry changed back into a man. His body was consumed with pain. He could tell that at least one leg was broken along with an arm. He had other injuries of a lesser degree all over his body.

"Dobby!" he called.

"Yes, Harry..," the elf stopped, his mouth agape. "Dobby will get help, Harry Potter!"

"Wait!" shouted Harry. "Go to Hogwarts and bring back all of the house-elves. We need to get these students to safety immediately. Go, Dobby!"

Dobby took a last look at Harry and then popped away. Harry lay on the ground, unable to move much. He was not facing the train and could not tell what was going on. He heard screams and crying and a few people trying to get organized. He recognized Ron's voice. He had used the sonorus charm.

"First through third years, if you are able to move, go to that tree," he said, pointing at a large elm. "Fourth on up, please help any wounded and trapped you can find. Do not move anyone that is hurt unless they are in immediate danger. If anyone is seriously injured, find a prefect for assistance."

Why was Ron in charge? Where was Hermione? Did she go over the edge when he let go of the engine? For a moment, the pain in his heart overwhelmed the pain in his body. He wept, knowing that she would be helping if she were still alive. A full minute passed and he heard the loud pops of dozens of house-elves. Dobby had returned. He appeared directly in front of Harry, holding the hand of Headmistress McGonagall.

"Take the lower years to the castle, Dobby." said Harry. "Then come back and..." He passed out.

September 1st, 1997

When he awoke, he was in a very familiar place, the school infirmary. Madam Pomfrey had apparently fixed his broken bones but he was still in a lot of pain from innumerable cuts and bruises. He tried to get up.

"Harry!" screamed Hermione. She grabbed him and hissed him fiercely, making it perhaps both the most painful and most welcome kiss of his life. She was alive!

"Hermione!" he cried. "I thought you were killed when the engine went over the edge." He was crying now and couldn't stop.

Hermione was crying with Harry. She didn't say anything for a while. She just wanted to hold him. Finally, she said, "The engineer, fireman and I all jumped at the last second. Your legs blocked the doors until then and I forgot about apparition." She blushed at this. It reminded her of one of their first adventures when she was ridiculed for not having any wood to make a fire.

Madam Pomfrey heard their voices and came over.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," she said. "Other than your cuts and bruises, do you feel that anything is amiss? A pain in a bone or trouble breathing or anything?" She looked concerned. Harry had been pretty banged up when a sobbing Hermione and a severely shaken McGonagall had brought him to her.

"It feels like everything is working OK," he said, "but I'll let you know for sure when I walk around a bit."

She handed him a potion he recognized as a pain killer. "Well, take this as needed," she said. "I'll let you two get caught up and I'll check back in a while. She hurried off to her office.

Harry smiled for a moment. Then he woke up a little more and asked, "What were the damages?" He wanted to know just how ineffective he had been in keeping his promise to those parents.

Hermione's smile faded. She looked around the room as if trying to find someone else to take on this burden. "Four students were killed, Harry," she said, softly. "They were in a car that rolled over."

Harry was consumed with grief. "My fault," he said. "I should have known there would be a trap somewhere. I did know. But we had to take the bloody train so I just hoped for the best. Should have known. Should have known. Almost no Slytherins were on the train. They knew better." He rambled on a while longer and Hermione let him burn out his guilt.

Finally, she said, "Harry, we suspected a trap but didn't know how, when or where. We can't hide forever from Voldemort. By all accounts, you saved everyone. There was no way that train was stopping if you hadn't been there." She stopped for a second and then continued. "By the way, the secret is out. About a hundred students saw you change back into you. I went ahead and admitted to being the "Banshee" as well." She held up a paper and said," Here. You can read it yourself." She handed him the Daily Prophet.

"How did they get this out so fast?" he asked. Then he changed the question. "How long have I been out?" He looked at the paper. It was the September 1st edition. The headline read "Harry Potter Saves Hundreds". It had a picture of the ruined train.

"Just the one day," said Hermione, casually. "Not up to your usual standards." She smiled at him.

"Who were the students killed?" he asked, although he didn't want to.

"Jolinda Harrington and Mark Greesham of Hufflepuff, Daryl Sharpton of Ravenclaw and Dennis Creevey of Gryffindor," she said, quietly.

Harry only knew Dennis and it made him feel even worse. He had never taken the time to meet the others and now he never would. He had always been more annoyed by the Creevey brothers than anything else and that also made him feel guilty. He promised himself to not take anyone for granted any more.

Hermione seemed to know that he was feeling guilty. "Did you hear me, Harry?" she asked. "They say the whole train would have been lost without you. If you hadn't put Dobby on the map, there would have been no warning and we all would be dead. You did everything you could reasonably be expected to do!" She was shouting at him now, trying to make him understand.

He did understand but that didn't make it any better. Trying to find out more, he asked, "Anyone with any permanent injuries?"

"I don't think so," she answered. "Mostly bruises and broken bones. Of the survivors, you were in the worst shape."

"Well, that's something, at least," he conceded.

Hermione smiled. Earlier that day, Arthur, Molly, Ron and Ginny had been sitting with her. Molly was, as one would expect, divided between worry about Harry's injuries and pride in his accomplishment. Arthur and Ron both knew that the bravery and injuries went hand-in-hand and that was just the way he was and everyone had just better get used to it. Ginny, who still loved Harry despite letting him go, said it was those "Hero" genes acting up again. Ginny was right. Harry was a Hero. Of course, he refused to see himself that way. He was sad about the four students killed instead of proud of the hundreds saved. He got his only consolation from having the worst injuries of those still living. In a way, it was lucky he was hurt so bad; he could believe that he had done his best.

He wanted to rest again and she let him read the paper. He skipped over the parts about him being the hero and read about the lost train; the lost lives; the investigation; the dead Death Eaters whose bodies were identified; the concerns of the parents. Oddly, even though he failed to save four students, the majority of the parents were still glad he was nearby. He just didn't understand that part.

After about an hour, Madam Pomfrey returned with Headmistress McGonagall. Harry had been trying to walk around the area and was having a little trouble. Hermione was helping him sit back on the bed when the two older witches arrived.

"It seems that you are getting around a little, now, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey. "The weakness in the legs will pass in a day or so. You had seventeen fractures between the two of them." She produced a cane that split at the end into four feet. "You may need this for extended walks. If the trouble extends past Wednesday, please see me." She handed Hermione four bottles of pain killer in a small bag.

Harry was just seventeen and didn't much like the idea of a cane, but it sure beat the heck out of a wheel chair so he took it. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," he said.

"I certainly hope you are feeling better, Harry," said McGonagall. She looked like she had aged ten years since he had last spoken with her.

"I'll be fine," he said. "I'm sorry, Headmistress. I wasn't able to keep the train safe." He thought of the dead again and the hopeful looks on those parents he had failed and started to weep again.

Minerva McGonagall was astonished. She had just left her office where she was talking with Rufus Scrimgeour about whether Harry's selfless actions and total disregard for his own life in saving almost everyone aboard that train deserved an Order of Merlin First Class or Second. Harry, on the other hand, was totally devastated over not being able to save them all. Perhaps she would put up that Harry Potter poster the Weasley Twins had sent her after all.

"Harry," she said softly, sitting down next to him and putting her arm around his shoulders, "I have been talking to the parents of four students today who will be buried later this week. It is the most difficult part of my job. I was barely able to get through it. If it were not for your actions, I would have to speak to the parents of every child on that train. I doubt very much that even the parents of the dead can think you didn't do the absolute best that you could." She continued to hold him as he tried to control himself.

"Thank you, Headmistress," he said at last. "I just can't help feeling responsible." He wiped his face and then said, "I want everyone to know that it was Dobby who gave us the few seconds warning we had. Without him, we would have all been killed."

Dobby, hearing his name called by his master (or close enough), popped into the infirmary.

"Is Harry Potter wanting anything?" he asked. He looked like he had a few bruises and cuts of his own.

"Yes, Dobby," said Harry. "I want to thank you for warning us. You saved everyone and I will let the Daily Prophet know that as soon as I can. You have done well," he added, remembering that was the highest praise you could give a house-elf.

Dobby started sobbing uncontrollably. Hermione stooped to hug him but he popped away to control himself.

McGonagall decided that now was as good a time as any. Harry couldn't refuse her after praising Dobby so she decided to just get down to business. "Now that you have taken care of your business with Dobby, I have a question or two for you," she said. "Would you like a public or private ceremony?"

"I always figured on a private one, "replied Harry, a little confused at why McGonagall was discussing this with him. Hermione would be the one making the arrangements, he thought. "I would like to be next to my parents," he added, looking at his wife.

McGonagall was confused. "Why would you want to go to Godric's Hollow for this?" she asked. "Don't you want your friends to be there when you receive your medal?"

"What medal?" asked Harry, confused in his turn.

"Your Order of Merlin," she replied. "What ceremony did you think I was talking about?"

"Oh," he said with a laugh. "I thought you were asking about my funeral." He didn't think twice about saying it.

Hermione and McGonagall were both shocked at how casually he mentioned this. Hermione grabbed his collar but could only stare at him and breathe in gasping, tear filled gulps. McGonagall suddenly realized where his bravery had come from; he had given himself no chance at defeating Voldemort and had decided to do the best he could in the time he had. She, too, was speechless.

Harry continued in order to end the awkward silence. "I still guess a private one. I think they should hold off until I kill Voldemort. That would be something I could really feel proud of, if I live."

Hermione got up and, deciding to hold her tongue, walked out of the infirmary. McGonagall, after excusing herself to Harry, left to find her Head Girl. There were a lot of things that the two witches had in common but the most important right now was having had to deal with a powerful wizard that refused to recognize their own importance to the world. Minerva had Albus and now Hermione had Harry. She could probably use a few pointers.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 - The Ceremony

September 3rd, 1997

The opening feast had been canceled and the start of classes delayed until the afternoon on Wednesday due to the wreck of the Hogwarts Express. The first funeral for the students killed would be on Thursday. Harry and Hermione had requested permission to attend them all but agreed when it was pointed out that their presence would distract from the main purpose of the funerals and contented themselves with sending their personal respects via owl. Barnabus Cuffe, the editor of the Daily Prophet, came by to personally offer his apologies to Harry and Hermione for the way his newspaper had treated them in the past. They both accepted his apology but held firm that, this time at least, only Linus Lovegood and his photographer would be allowed to attend the awarding of Harry's Order of Merlin. Harry assured him that they would then bury the past and allow full access to anything else. Cuffe had to hope that something would come up, having lost the Dumbledore interview and the medal ceremony to one of the most marginal journals on the market. He would find out tomorrow that he also lost out on Harry Potter's wedding to the same paper. He had better hope there aren't any sharp objects around.

On Wednesday morning, Rufus Scrimgeour came to present the Order of Merlin, First Class to Harry. It had been decided that, since the exposure of Hermione and Harry as being the Lady and the Dragon, the medal would encompass not only the saving of the students on the Hogwarts Express, but also the defense of Hogsmeade and the trap at the Burrow. Harry had expressed his belief that both Hermione, Ron and Dobby deserved medals as well but had been mollified when it was agreed that the ceremony would include mention of their contributions as well as honoring the dead students. Scrimgeour had heard from McGonagall that Harry would probably not accept the award if it was too celebratory of him alone.

Hermione was also a bundle of nerves. So far, only a few of their friends knew that she and Harry had married and they had been asked to keep it to themselves for now. The Quibbler would come out tomorrow with the photos so Harry had decided to announce their marriage during the ceremony. Most of the girls had noticed the ring, of course, but the wedding band blended in too well to really see. Since most of them still remembered that Ginny was Harry's last girlfriend, they didn't put him in their list of her possible fiancེs. She thought that McGonagall was being fairly optimistic in thinking that classes would start that afternoon after the events and announcements of the morning.

At ten o'clock, the second years and above sat at their tables. The first years were assigned temporary quarters with some of the more compassionate staff members in residence to help them through their trauma and they were now waiting to be sorted. Harry and Hermione sat at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the professor's table. Harry was still using his cane and didn't want to take forever to get up to receive his medal. He was scheduled to see a specialist on Friday to tweak his leg bones a little. He decided that getting hit by several train cars could do some serious damage. Ron and Ginny sat next to them with the other upper classmen, including "Dougal", nearby. Luna had even sat at the end of the Ravenclaw table next to them. She had whispered a warm greeting to Draco and he seemed to appreciate it.

The first years came in. They walked down the aisle as the rest had done during the past years. They looked up at the enchanted ceiling and the floating candles. Nothing, however, seemed to capture their attention as much as Harry. They had grown up, except for the muggle-borns, hearing the story of his life; his defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as a baby; his saving of the sorcerer's stone; his battle with the basilisk, who's skeleton now resided in a hallway; his one-hundred dementor patronus at age thirteen; his tri-wizard adventures including fighting a dragon and dueling He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; his battle in the Ministry with Death Eaters; his capture of Greyback and pursuit of the other Death Eaters out of the Castle; his rescue of Hermione Granger from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's fortress; his defense of Hogsmeade as a dragon; and now he had also saved them all on the Hogwarts Express. Awe didn't even come close to the mark.

The Sorting Hat sat by the stool on a pile of wood. McGonagall had threatened to burn it if it tried to do a song this year and it seemed to think she meant it because it hadn't said a word. Professor Sprout called the names of the first years and, as it has done for centuries, the Sorting Hat placed them in their houses. Slytherin got the least number which helped to accentuate the fact that they had less students than normal, anyway. Most had shown up the day after the wreck, some clearly not expecting to be attending this term. Only Theodore Nott, however, had a dark mark. Hermione would take him to see his friends after the ceremony.

The sorting was done at twenty minutes after ten and the Order of Merlin ceremony wasn't scheduled to start until eleven so the house-elves sent up snacks and tea. The Great Hall was declared informal until ten-to-eleven. To everyone's surprise, especially Dougal, Pansy Parkinson came over to the Gryffindor table and stood in front of Harry.

"I want to apologize for the way I spoke to you on Sunday," she said, looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione, an uncharacteristic contrition in her voice. "I obviously didn't know about the attack on the train and would have been killed along with everyone else if it hadn't been for you. I hope you recover soon and can forgive me."

Harry and Hermione were as stunned as everyone else but Harry came around quick enough to avoid an awkward silence. "I appreciate your apology and I accept it," he said. "I have learned that something as silly as house affiliation shouldn't keep people apart. Thank you for proving me right." He shook her hand. Hermione followed suit but remained silent, but friendly. Pansy returned to her seat.

"I never would have believed that in a million years," said Draco, watching her leave.

"You can't believe everything you heard about Slytherins, Dougal," said Hermione, trying to cover for Draco's slip. "I know for a fact that they aren't all bad." Draco smiled and remained quiet.

Luna took the opportunity to sit next to Draco and told him everything she could think of about life at Hogwarts. He knew most of it already, of course, but she had an interesting slant on some things so his interest was maintained.

At ten-to-eleven, the students were asked to return to their correct tables and four chairs were placed apart from the staff table on the dais. McGonagall signaled for them to start coming up.

"Dobby," said Harry. Dobby appeared by his side.

"What can Dobby be doing for Mr. Harry Potter?" he asked.

"Dobby can be helping me up the steps," he answered with a wink at Draco.

Together, Harry with his cane, Dobby, Ron and Hermione walked up the steps to the chairs. "Have a seat, Dobby," said Harry and he sat in the nearest chair. Dobby seemed to be a little nervous about this but obeyed. Ron and Hermione sat next to them. Slowly, Rufus Scrimgeour, Remus Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur and Molly Weasley and Mad-eye Moody took their seats at the staff table with the professors. Dan and Emma Granger, being muggles, could not enter the castle. At the last minute, Winky also arrived, by order of Harry so that she could witness the honoring of Dobby.

At eleven o'clock, McGonagall rose to speak at the podium.

"Please calm down," she said to the students. "We are here this morning to do many things. Most importantly, we are here to honor the students who lost their lives on Sunday. Please rise for a moment in honor of Jolinda Harrington and Mark Greesham of Hufflepuff, Daryl Sharpton of Ravenclaw and Dennis Creevey of Gryffindor. Their deaths were a tragic reminder that we are still at war with those who hate all things good and kind and loving." She bowed her head and the hall was silent as a tomb, all those present standing in remembrance of their fellow students. After a minute, she seated them.

We are also here to honor those who helped to limit Voldemort's success." There was an audible gasp from most of the students. "Most of you know about Harry Potter's part in your rescue but he has a few comments to make about that himself, so I will now turn over the podium to him. Mr. Harry Potter." She stepped back and looked at him.

Harry got up with Dobby's help and walked over to the podium. Applause and cheers filled the Great Hall as his fellow students (although few Slytherins joined in) honored their Head Boy. After it had gone on quite long enough, in his opinion, he motioned for silence. Everyone slowly quieted down and sat on their benches.

"I wish to thank you all for your kind welcome. I just want to say that the newspapers have it all wrong. I am not the only one who had anything to do with stopping the Hogwarts Express. The same is true of the battle of Hogsmeade and the capture of those Death Eaters at the Burrow. Many of those who helped and the aid they provided must remain secret. I will thank them in private for now and in public when feasible. Those that I can recognize are sitting here with me now. Two are already as much of a target as they ever will be and one can take care of himself. Their specific contributions will again, remain secret but I wish to recognize them this day." He motioned for his friends to join him. Dobby had to be practically dragged over. "Ron Weasley, Hermione Potter and Dobby have all been fighting against Voldemort with great success."

There was the usual shudder at the mention of Voldemort's name and then, as if on cue, the whole student body whispered "Potter?" together with the result that the name was quite audible.

Harry laughed. "Yes, Potter! I would like to also announce that Hermione has been married to me for a month and a day." There was a stunned silence until Ginny stood and applauded. Very quickly, the rest of the students followed suit. It was hard to tell what they were applauding, the couple or the group. In the end, it didn't matter so they just enjoyed it.

When the students were again seated, Rufus Scrimgeour walked over to the foursome. He was a little unsure about the elf but Harry had insisted. "To Harry Potter," he began, and then, looking at the rest he added, "and friends, I have the extreme honor of presenting to you today, in recognition of your last three victories over the plans of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, at Hogsmead, at the Burrow and on the Hogwarts Express, the highest honor that a witch or wizard can attain, the Order of Merlin, First Class." He placed the medal over Harry's head and shook his hand, along with the other three, pausing only a moment before shaking the hand of Dobby. Winky burst into tears. "I will leave it at that for now, in honor of those who lost their lives. I will predict, however, that this will not be the last chance I have to do this with Mr. Harry Potter and Company."

Cheers erupted as everyone (except some of the Slytherins, but they don't count) agreed. They all had hope that someday, and probably someday soon, Harry would defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once and for all.

Hermione turned out to be right about the afternoon classes.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 - The Traitor

September 4th, 1997

Harry and Hermione woke at six o'clock the next day in their bed in the Head's Suite. It was definitely a lot smaller and less comfortable than their bed in Grimmauld Place. The temptation to "commute" to school was great but Hermione said, quite reasonably, that as Head Students, they needed to be available all of the time except when pursuing horcruxes or something equally important. As a newlywed, Harry wanted to post a rule that required that any emergency must involve at least six Death Eaters or they couldn't be disturbed after ten o'clock. Hermione had said that she personally would like to oblige but that she would not turn away a homesick first year for their own extra-curricular activities.

Of course, there was no need to worry about being interrupted right now. Harry was doing good to just get up in the morning. His bone healer specialist wasn't going to fix him until tomorrow so he was still pretty stiff. He had decided, after timing how long it took to get from one end of the Great Hall to the other, that running up and down multiple flights of stairs in crowded hallways to get to class would be temporarily out of the question. Dobby would be his intra-castle personal travel agent.

But that was for later. Right now, he wanted a chat with a certain brand new Death Eater. After the ceremony yesterday, Hermione had walked over to Theodore Nott and asked to talk to him privately. The other marginal Slytherins had made a few rude comments about her dumping Potter for something better. She had just smiled as she led him away. That was the last the other Slytherins saw of Mr. Nott. He was now in one of the new cells in B-Block, as they called the area past the snake door. His arm was gone and he had not yet awoken. Harry wanted to be there.

Harry and Hermione dressed and they sent Dobby to wake Ron. Harry couldn't make the steps to the boys dorm and Hermione probably shouldn't anymore. A few minutes later, Ron and Dobby popped back in. Apparently, Ron didn't want to expend any more energy at this hour than he had to.

"Good morning, Potters," said Ron with a yawn. He was aware of their appointment but it was a lot earlier than he was used to getting up. "Any chance of a cup of coffee before we start?" he asked.

"I don't...," Hermione started to say but Dobby was holding a tray with a coffee pot, three cups, cream, sugar and some muffins. She shrugged and they sat at the table and had some coffee and a few muffins.

They made it to the Fortress by six-thirty and sat in their office chairs, preparing to make their first visit with Mr. Nott. Hermione was retrieving one of their bottles of veritaserum while Harry and Ron discussed what questions they would like answered besides the usual.

"I want to know what inspired him to join up at this late date," said Harry. "If, as we believe, he is a recent addition, why would he make this particular career move now with so many Death Eaters dropping like flies? This is exactly what Grampa said my animagus form would help prevent."

Ron thought about that for a moment and then said, "Maybe it has. Voldemort usually waits for fully trained wizards when recruiting. Why wouldn't he? But now he's running low, thanks to you, and he has to start taking what he can get."

Hermione agreed. "That would explain why Crabbe and Goyle are missing. He probably knew they were too stupid to send back here but they would serve as guards or something so that competent Death Eaters could do more important work."

"He's probably having to pull in the children of a lot of his Death Eaters as soon as he can," said Harry. "It has to be hurting him; the Hogsmead attack; the Burrow; the..." He trailed off.

"My rescue," said Hermione, softly. Then, to change the subject a little and get back on target, "So does this hurt us or help us? Are we killing the Death Eaters that have the information we want or are we weeding out the low-level thugs who couldn't help us anyway?"

"Probably a little of both," said Ron. "According to Draco, the ones who were with you were new recruits. They wouldn't have known anything. The others were more experienced and might have known something. We have a lot of them here, so I think we are getting the best of the deal, so far."

"I agree," said Harry. "Nott probably doesn't know much but we can at least find out who replaced Lucius and what his orders were."

"So let's go, then," said Hermione.

She and Ron got up and helped Harry out of his chair. It was a long way to the other cell blocks so Harry apparated them all there. Theodore Nott was still unconscious, laying on a single bed in one of the small cells. He was missing his left arm. Ron activated the sound and Hermione enervated him.

Nott woke up, not surprisingly, totally disoriented. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling of the cave. Then he noticed the glass walls of his cell with an unknown man to his right and no one to his left. Looking over his feet, he noticed the trio watching him. He started to get up but, like Draco, had a little trouble without his left arm. He rolled to the floor and sprang to his feet. He shouted, "What the bloody hell is going on here? Let me out of here! What the bloody hell happened to my arm?" He was quite angry.

"Nott," said Harry, "I want you to listen to me."

"Who do you bloody think you are, Potter?" asked Nott. "You can't go kidnaping me and cut off my arm and think you're going to get away with it."

"I have and I will," said Harry, calmly. "Dobby!" The house elf appeared. "Bring me Theodore Nott's arm." Dobby popped away for a few seconds and then returned, carrying the now common environmentally sealed container, labeled "Theodore Nott".

Harry handed the case to Ron, who held it while Harry opened it. Inside was an arm and a wand. Harry held up the arm and pulled off the sleeve. "Do you see this?" he asked, pointing at the dark mark. "You might think it's a mark of your loyalty to Voldemort or a badge of honor or something. To me, it's a hunting license. Anyone I find with this mark ends up here or dead. You are one of the lucky ones." He handed the box back to Dobby with instructions to take it back to the mine.

"You won't last long, Potter," spat Nott. "The Dark Lord will kill you and your friends and then we will all be rescued. My master will reward my loyalty for not despairing of his coming."

Harry turned to Ron and said, "Draco should be hearing this. He didn't really have a good grasp on Death Eater talk." Ron and Hermione laughed. "OK, Nott. We have a few questions. If you answer them, you might get a better cell. If not, get used to the view you have."

"I will say nothing that will help you, Potter," he said and turned his back on them.

Harry shrugged and said to his friends, "I guess we do it the hard way." Then louder, he said, "Hey, Nott. Do you see that hole in your ceiling?"

Nott looked up. Seeing nothing he said, "Where..." and was petrified by Hermione.

Harry apparated the three of them into the small cell. It was a tight fit but they managed. Harry and Hermione sat on the bed while Ron, being the tallest, put three drops of veritaserum in Notts now open mouth. He then stepped back and Hermione released the petrification on his head.

"When did you join Voldemort?" asked Harry.

"I was ordered to receive the dark mark two weeks ago," he said in a monotone.

"Why did you join?" asked Harry.

"I was ordered to join. You do not refuse such an order but since my father is a Death Eater, I was glad for the chance to revenge his capture," he replied.

"What were your orders?" asked Ron.

"I was to report on the conditions at Hogwarts. I was to monitor the movements and activities of Potter. I was to wait for a specific order to kill Granger, Ron and Ginny Weasley and, if possible, Potter." came back the reply.

"What method were you to use to make your reports?" asked Hermione.

"I was to owl my contact with any reports and receive orders from him." he said, flatly.

"Who was your contact?" asked Hermione.

"Artemis Derrick," came the answer.

"Did you have a code or signal for insuring that the letters were sent and received by just you and him?" asked Harry.

"Yes," replied Nott. "We would always include a reference to the month before and after the current month."

"Who gave you these orders?" asked Ron.

"Snape," was the reply. They paused for a moment. It had been wondered if maybe Snape was acting on Dumbledore's orders when he killed him. This removed any doubt. Snape had ordered Nott to kill them all.

"Where is Voldemort's headquarters," asked Ron.

"It moves quite often," he replied. "The last place I knew was Riddle Manor but that will change soon."

"What other information do you have that might help us?" asked Ron, hopefully.

"I do not know," said Nott. He didn't know what they were doing so he couldn't answer that question.

"What question are you most afraid that we will ask?" asked Harry.

"I am most afraid of you asking the name of the traitor at Hogwarts," said Nott.

"What is the name of ..", began Ron.

"Wait!" shouted Hermione. "Why are you most afraid of that question?" she asked.

"Because I have taken an unbreakable vow to not reveal it," he answered.

"We can't ask it then," said Hermione to the other two.

Ron nodded but Harry just said, "Not yet, at least. If we need to find out, we will ask." Ron and Hermione both looked shocked but eventually had to agree. Nott had chosen his side and his life was worth less than anyone other than another Death Eater. If it would save an innocent life, they would ask that question and let him die.

"What is the mission of the traitor?" asked Harry.

"I do not know," said Nott.

"Why did they tell you about him, then?" asked Ron.

"I would be his contact with the outside through my contact," explained Nott. "There would be no trail to the traitor except through me."

The veritaserum was starting to wear off and it was a little after seven o'clock so they decided to leave it there for the time being. Harry apparated the three of them to the outside of the cell where Hermione released the petrification spell. Harry then told Nott that his arm was not lost for good and that unforced cooperation would result in better conditions. They left him to think about that and returned to the Head's Suite.

Harry walked to the fireplace and threw in some floo powder. "Headmistress McGonagall, a moment, please," he called. A few moments later, he heard her permission to enter her office. Not wishing to try to floo with his cane, he had the other two hold on and he apparated the three of them to her office. She was wearing her robes and seemed to have been up for a while.

"Good morning," she said to the three of them. "What brings you to my office so early?" She didn't comment about the apparition.

"We have been talking with Theodore Nott and he had some interesting news, Headmistress," said Harry. He walked over to her desk to be able to speak directly to her. The others followed, one on either side in case he stumbled.

"I didn't know you had already detained him, Mr. Potter," she replied. "What information did he have that is so urgent?"

"He told us, under veritaserum, that there is a traitor in the castle," said Harry. "He did not know the mission of the traitor but the lines of communication for them have been temporarily cut. It seems Mr. Nott was to be the liaison between the traitor and Voldemort."

"That is serious," agreed McGonagall. "Did he say who the traitor is?" she asked.

"He couldn't," replied Ron, "at least not without dying afterwards. He said he made an unbreakable vow to not reveal the traitor."

"Of course," added Harry, "that won't stop us from asking if it looks serious." He looked like he already thought it was serious and just wanted to give the others time to get used to the idea.

McGonagall didn't know what to say. She knew that Harry was right. It would be Nott's bad luck that he died if they decided they needed the information and could get it no other way. She almost suggested that she ask the question to keep the students from essentially executing Nott but it wouldn't bother them, at least not Harry. He had already killed over fifty Death Eaters personally and one more wouldn't matter. Of course the others were in battle or otherwise grim situations; Nott was a prisoner in some sort of a cell, she supposed.

"I would like to try other means to find out the identity of the traitor, first," she finally said.

"As you wish, Headmistress," replied Harry. "In the meantime, we need to redirect any owls sent to Nott. Do you know how to do this or do we need to ask Tonks or the Minister?"

"I am able to do that charm, Mr. Potter," she said. "Who would you like them directed to in his place?"

"Could you direct them to yourself, Headmistress," asked Harry. "It would be too obvious to the traitor if we started getting extra owls just after Nott disappeared."

"Of course, Mr. Potter," agreed McGonagall. "I will need to see Nott in order to do this. Can you bring him here or shall I accompany you to his location?" She was hoping to catch a glimpse of their Fortress of Solitude.

"I will bring him here," replied Harry and disappeared. A few moments later, he reappeared with a petrified Nott.

"I wish I knew how you do that, Potter," she said with a smirk. "I'm getting older and it's a big castle." She then cast the owl redirection charm on Nott and transferred his marker to herself. It would only last for a few weeks but that would probably be sufficient. Harry returned Nott to his cell and returned.

"Thank you, Headmistress," he said.

"Headmistress," said Hermione. "Do you have any written material from Nott? We will need to try to match his handwriting when corresponding with his contact."

"I will check around discretely and see what I can come up with, Hermione," she answered.

"Why is she "Hermione" and I'm "Mr. Potter"?" asked Harry, smiling.

McGonagall had to think about that for a moment. "I am not sure. I tend to think of Hermione more socially and you more professionally, I suppose. She and I have more in common than the two of us."

Harry decided that it was more of a personal question than he had thought and left it there. Hermione remembered the chat she had had with McGonagall after the "ceremony / funeral" mix-up a few days ago but also remained silent. She agreed that she had a lot in common with McGonagall but she would not call her "Minerva" for quite some time.

The four of them (McGonagall had also decided that she was hungry) headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry had a dark mark detector in his pocket, as well as a map if necessary but so far there was no vibration. Apparently, Nott was the only Death Eater in Hogwarts who actually had the dark mark. He hoped that they never caught on to their methods because the dark mark made Death Eaters within range about as inconspicuous as a police siren. It was the traitor that worried him. He knew only too well how much damage a traitor could cause. A traitorous friend had caused his parent's deaths; a traitorous house-elf had caused Sirius' death; and a traitorous professor had killed Dumbledore. A traitor was worth a hundred marked Death Eaters any day. Nott had better hope that McGonagall thought of a way to find out their identity pretty quick because Harry was more inclined to use the direct approach.

After McGonagall split up with their group to take her seat at the Professor's table, Millicent Bulstrode walked over to the students before they had taken ten steps towards their usual places. While this would have normally been impossible for the portley Slytherin, she had the advantage that Harry could only move at the speed of the average turtle, for the time being.

She walked up and confronted Hermione. "Where's Ted," she demanded in her grating baritone. She stared at Hermione with the look of total hatred. They had gotten into a fist fight during second year and their relationship had degraded ever since.

Harry, Hermione and Ron all looked at each other. How could they have overlooked this? Of course, even a Slytherin would have somebody who would care if they disappeared. What could they say?

Thinking fast, Harry said, "He's in the hospital wing." Harry saw Madam Pomfrey sitting at the staff table talking to Professor Sprout so he knew he would have some time.

"How did he get there?" asked Bulstrode, increasing her stare to near painful levels but redirecting it to Harry.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" said Hermione. She was calm and collected so Harry and Ron assumed she had a plan.

"I think I will," snarled Millicent, "and it had better not involve you, mudblood." She turned and strode towards the exit of the Great Hall.

Hermione started to steer them to follow while shushing them to wait until Bulstrode was out of earshot. When they cleared the door, she pulled them into an alcove.

"Harry, take us to the hospital wing right now," she said.

Harry didn't know what they could do there but he had acknowledged her genius for years and time was running out. With the slightest of twirls, they were all in the hospital wing.

"How is this going to help us, Hermione?" asked Ron. "She'll be here any minute and will see that the place is empty."

"Yes, she will," agreed Hermione, "but she won't remember that part." Turning to Harry she said, "Harry, go and get a bottle of polyjuice potion from our cabinet. Then stun Nott and get a hair from him." She looked between them. "Which of you wants to be Nott?" she asked them both.

Before they could answer, they heard Millicent Bulstrode clumping up the stairs. Quickly, Hermione led them to the side of the door. They would be hidden when she entered the infirmary. Bulstrode walked through the door and looked around. Hermione had cast her spell but there was no trace. She then petrified Millicent and turned back to the boys. Speaking in a normal voice she said, "Well? Who can pull off the best impersonation of Theodore Nott?"

"It will have to be Ron," said Harry. Ron looked incredulous.

"Why will it have to be me?" asked Ron. "And how can any of us pull it off if she can hear us planning everything?" he asked, pointing at the pudgy witch standing motionless just a few feet away.

"Because I have to get McGonagall to keep Pomfrey away from here for awhile," replied Harry. "Unless you suddenly achieved the ability to apparate inside Hogwarts, that will be my job."

Ron didn't look happy but he did look resigned. "OK, what should I say to her?" he asked Hermione.

"Just a minute," interrupted Harry. "Let me go get a hair and the potion. Pomfrey could start back here at any minute so I have to hurry. You two start on the story." He apparated to the inside of Nott's cell. Dobby only put his protections on a cell if Harry asked and it didn't seem that any of the prisoners had enough power to escape so Harry had the run of the place. He quickly stunned Nott. Grabbing a hair, he popped into the office. Opening the potion cupboard, he grabbed a flask labeled "Polyjuice" and apparated back to the hospital wing. Handing the potion and hair to Hermione, he then apparated to the alcove behind the Professors table and walked over to McGonagall. He was relieved to see Pomfrey still deep in discussion with Sprout.

"Headmistress," he said from behind her.

"Oh," exclaimed McGonagall. She had not seen him approach and was quite startled. This had the unfortunate effect of causing the other professors to turn and watch them both.

"Could I have a moment in private," he asked, motioning towards the alcove.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," she said, regaining her composure. They walked to the alcove and Harry pulled her out of view.

"We need to have you detain Madam Pomfrey for a while. Probably at least ten minutes. She will also need to be informed that Nott is a patient of hers if anyone asks. Bulstrode is up there now looking for him but we have that covered. We just don't need Madam Pomfrey blowing our cover."

McGonagall seemed to be especially quick this morning. "You intend to plant a cover story about some sort of a lengthy illness that will explain his absence, then?" she asked.

"Yes, Headmistress," said Harry. "Ron and Hermione are working out some sort of a story now."

"Hmm," said McGonagall. "Besides Poppy, is time a major consideration?"

"We can't take so long that the amount of time is noticed by Bulstrode but otherwise she will remember nothing, just like you," replied Harry, referencing the first time that they used the extended obliviate spell.

"Then let me get Poppy and you can take the two of us up to the infirmary," said McGonagall. "We should be able to coordinate a good long term story that might catch our traitor, as well."

Harry didn't want to take too much time and he trusted the intelligence of McGonagall almost as much as Hermione so he didn't argue. McGonagall brought Pomfrey over to him and the three of them apparated to the hospital wing.

"Harry," said Madam Pomfrey, "How did you do that?" she asked. All of her other interactions had been under the same obliviate spell that Millicent Bullstrode was currently experiencing.

"No time, Poppy," said McGonagall. "Welcome to the club. Say nothing about this to anyone but we need your help and cooperation." She looked around. Hermione was talking to Theodore Nott. Nott seemed to be upset that his left arm was missing.

"Headmistress!" cried Hermione. "What are you doing here?" she asked, looking at Harry.

"Poppy and I are both here to help catch our traitor," replied McGonagall. Turning to the nurse she said, "Poppy, we need a long term, highly contagious disease that will require Mr. Nott to be totally quarantined."

Madam Pomfrey had one great characteristic; she didn't ask too many questions. Instead, she started thinking out loud. "Dragon pox is good for about four weeks. That would be a reasonable possibility," She suggested.

"Not long enough," said Harry. "We need to keep him here for months without anyone wanting to see him very often."

"Well, slug scabs are fairly hard to get rid of and are quite repulsive. They aren't particularly contagious though," replied the nurse. "Maybe a severe injury would be usable," she suggested.

"No," said Hermione, "we want him to not have contact with anyone, especially a Slytherin. With an injury, Bulstrode could kiss him if he could control the gag reflex."

"Loser's lurgy," said Harry, remembering Luna's Quidditch announcing. "Just make up some hideous symptoms and nobody will want anything to do with him. We can even make visitor's take a potion a half hour in advance to protect them while seeing him. That way, we can always have someone in place."

It sounded great. Hermione suggested to change the name to "Luissere's Lurgie" to give it some class. They transfigured some boils on the protesting Ron's face and arm and conjured an isolation ward from spare cell parts.

It had been a half hour since Millicent Bolstrode was petrified and she was fighting mad. If they thought she wouldn't remember any of this, they were completely...

Millicent walked into the infirmary and saw Theodore Nott in a glass room. He had boils on his face and his robes hung slack on the left side. He motioned her over and then had her stop at about five feet away.

"Hello, Milli," he said. "I'm glad you came. I wanted you to tell everyone that I will be here for a while and to see if anyone can take notes for me." Ron tried to be sick while concerned about grades.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked. "Was it something the mudblood did to you?" she asked with a growing passion.

"No, " said Ron. "She was the one who noticed my symptoms before they were contagious. That was what she wanted to talk to me about. We came up here and Madam Pomfrey confirmed her hunch."

"You're contagious?" asked Bulstrode, now stepping a few feet further back and putting her hands on her face.

"Yes, but the glass shields you from it," said Ron. "They don't know how long I will be here, though so I will need notes from my classes. Could you arrange that for me, please?" he asked.

"I suppose I could," she said, still not convinced about the safety. "What do you have?" she asked.

That was Madam Pomfrey's cue. She walked out of the side room to the doorway and made a sharp turn. It looked like she had walked in the door. "He has Luissere's Lurgie, Miss Bulstrode, said the lying nurse. It may be some time until he is healed but we are safe as long as he stays in there."

"Can we catch it from something he touches?" asked Millicent. She wouldn't agree to do the notes unless she was absolutely sure.

"I have a spray for that, Miss Bulstrode," said the bald-faced lying nurse. She didn't even blush or miss a beat.

"OK, then," she said, turning back to Ron. "I'll bring up your books and notes every day if you want." She didn't look like she wanted to see him with the boils quite that often.

Ron picked up on that and said, "You don't have to bother. Just send an elf. It won't matter if they get infected." Ron knew that the Slytherin would jump at the chance to avoid infection and the risk to the elf would mean nothing to her. Hermione, however would have his hide, he suspected.

"OK," she agreed. "I'll do that. I'll try to come at least once a week to talk with you, though," she promised.

"I look forward to it," lied Ron. "I might have some mail to send, as well. Could you handle that for me, too?" he asked.

"Sure," said Bulstrode, clearly wanting to get out of there. She could almost feel the boils starting to grow. "I have to get to class now, Ted," she said, leaving at not quite a brisk walk.

"Goodbye," said Ron. He wanted to get rid of the boils, get his arm back and become a Weasley again almost as much as Bulstrode wanted to get away from him.

After Bulstrode left, they all stood together and silently hoped that this plan would work. Nott wasn't there but he should hope the most, thought Harry.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: It was pointed out that Remus had his name misspelled for twenty-three chapters. Sorry. I will not be going back and fixing it.

Nobody mentioned it, but the whirlwind courtship of Harry and Hermione is based on fact. I met my wife on July 23rd, 1993, we were engaged a week later and married on August 16th. It didn't stop there. Our daughter was born on June 3rd, 1994 (Nine and a half months later, thank you very much). So it can happen.

Chapter 24 - Classes at last

September 4th, 1997

By the time their first class, Transfiguration, started at nine o'clock, Ron had returned to himself. This would be their first time with the new Transfiguration professor and they didn't really know what to expect. They (or at least Harry, but who was nitpicking) had permission to use Dobby for official transportation to classes until Monday so they were first in line. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, both Hufflepuffs, were the first to join them.

"Good morning, Hannah; Susan," said Hermione, cordially. She had always like both of them and they had gotten along fairly well.

"Good morning, Mrs. Potter," said Hannah with a smile. Susan greeted her non-verbally but in a friendly way.

"Are you planning on explaining why you got married to students individually or are you going to just release a statement," asked Mandy Brocklehurst, a Ravenclaw who had come up quick enough to hear the Mrs. Potter reference.

"I think I'll let it simmer for a while on the gossip network, Mandy. Stories always end up so much more interesting that way," replied Hermione.

"I wonder how that will turn out," mused Susan. "The true story has you two in the papers every other day and ends with an Order of Merlin, First Class so I don't see much embellishment being necessary."

"Or possible," added Anthony Goldstein. The queue was filling up now. Harry saw Dougal arrive as well as what looked like another new student, a pretty witch with shimmering blonde hair and ultra-blue eyes. She reminded Harry of Fleur a little. She seemed a little rude, though. She was trying to push to the front of the line.

"You must be Harry Potter," she gushed. She reminded Harry of some rock groupies he had seen on television one night a few summers ago. "I've read all about you for years. Are you still hurt from your injuries?" she asked, gesturing towards his cane.

"Just until tomorrow," he said. He hoped she wasn't another Romilda Vane.

Harry decided that it might be a good idea to change the subject a little. "Did anyone see what the new Transfiguration professor looks like?" he asked. "I think her name is Professor Honey Stillwater." He smirked and added, "Probably four feet tall and three hundred pounds." Everyone laughed.

"Oh, I don't think I'll ever get that heavy," said the new girl with a laugh. "And the name is Sweetwater, by the way." She walked past a stunned Harry and opened the door for class.

Harry stood still for about five seconds until Hermione gave him a nudge and he started to move. Everyone took their seats as Professor Sweetwater's attendance sheet filled itself out. She had a little trouble watching it and kept looking at Harry about every ten seconds and occasionally shuddered with excitement. Hermione was nearly in shock from watching her.

Since there were only fourteen students in the NEWT transfiguration class, she eventually had to stop taking attendance and proceed with the lesson.

"Good morning, everyone," she said, looking at Harry. "My name is Professor Honey Stillwater, er, I mean Sweetwater." She giggled and blushed a little while glancing at Harry. "I am younger than Professor McGonagall as you can see but I have completed my apprenticeship and have had a year of field work so I am fully qualified."

"We'll see about that," muttered Hermione. She wasn't the only non-male student who didn't like the looks of this new professor. The male students, however, did seem to like the looks of her, thank you very much.

"I am sure that Professor McGonagall has been very thorough in her instruction. She was when I was in her class as well as my parents," she said. "I would like to take a little while to get familiar with your individual abilities and style before we continue with the course work, if you don't mind."

She walked over to the cupboard and revealed a selection of vases. "We will start with transfiguring these vases in a variety of ways. Please come and take one to your table." Everyone got up to get a vase.

"Oh, don't bother, Mr. Potter," said Sweetwater. "You're still hurt. I'll bring you one."

She took a vase and walked past a not-so-slowly simmering Hermione. She set it down in front of a very appreciative Harry who was smiling broadly and said "Thank you, Professor. That was very thoughtful of you."

"Not at all," replied the smitten witch. Speaking up but still gazing at Harry, she said, "OK, class. Let's start with changing the shape of your vase. Please make it change to a triangular, then square, then pentagonal, then, ah whatever-has-six-sides and so on," she giggled. She stared at Harry and said, "Let's see what you have, Harry."

Harry was in a slight fog but he decided to do the assignment as best he could. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Hermione already had her vase in a triangular form so he concentrated on doing the same to his. A few simple hand motions and a non-verbal spell and he had his triangular vase. Sweetwater didn't move or say anything so he moved on to the square, pentagonal, hexagonal, on up to decagonal. She just looked at him in amazement. Harry turned to Hermione, who also had a ten-sided vase. He turned back. "Er, Professor?" he asked. She came out of her stupor.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked.

"Aren't you going to check the other students, as well?" he half asked, half suggested while gesturing at Hermione's perfect vase.

"Oh, of course," she said blushing and giggling, first looking at and acknowledging Hermione's vase and then moving around the room.

When she had left, Harry turned to Hermione to comment and decided that perhaps something might be bothering her. "Is something wrong, Hermione?" he asked. She seemed to be mad at him for some reason.

"I was wondering why you were showing off for the pretty new professor," she said coldly.

Harry was confused. "I didn't do anything you didn't do," he said indicating their nearly identical vases.

"No, you didn't," said Hermione," but I used a wand."

Harry had been practicing wandless magic for quite a while now and had become fairly good at it. For something as simple as today's assignment, it never even occurred to him to use his wand. Sheepishly, he pulled it out of his pocked and said, "Sorry. I forgot." He saw Ron looked almost as upset with him as Hermione.

Eventually, they progressed to changing the color, texture, material and size of the vases. Harry and Hermione were both very good at this with Mandy and Anthony coming in a close third and fourth. Ron did OK but kept getting cracks in his finish and occasionally, the handles would fall off.

Finally, Professor Sweetwater called the class to order and for homework assigned the class to each demonstrate transfiguring a potato into as many different objects as possible while still remaining edible. Ten would be the minimum passing grade.

As they were collecting their books, Professor Sweetwater walked up to Harry and asked, "Do you need any help getting to your next class, Harry?" She looked eager to help. A little too eager.

"I think we can manage," said Hermione, grabbing Harry's bag and handing him his cane.

"I'm sorry," said Sweetwater. "I'm afraid I wasn't paying enough attention to the attendance sheet today. You are..."

"Mrs. Potter," said Hermione, cold enough to make a polar bear shiver.

Sweetwater got the drift and backed off. "Thank you," she said, "you did very well today, too."

Although she was prepared to take time off whenever necessary, Hermione saw no point in not taking advantage of being at Hogwarts as much as possible. Consequentially, she had just as many classes as last year and had to head off to Ancient Runes immediately after class. Harry on the other hand, and by default , Ron, had decided to just attend the core classes of Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. They had three hours until Double Charms at one o'clock. To fill this time they decided to check out the data collected so far from Nott and the other Death Eaters.

Stepping into an empty classroom after letting the other students pass by, Harry apparated them both to their office.

"Good morning, Tonks," said Harry as they popped in about five feet from where she was sitting.

"Bloody hell, Harry," said Tonks, holding her chest. "We need a bell or something. You take ten years off my life every time you do that."

Harry thought about that for a second and said, "Actually, that isn't a bad idea. Remind me to ask Hermione to put a protean charm on a pair of bells or something so that when I ring mine, the one down here would ring."

"That won't really be necessary, Harry," said a slightly calmer Tonks. She was amused that he had taken her seriously. "After tomorrow you should be fixed up enough to pop in outside of the office. It's this right-next-to-me stuff that freaks me out."

"OK," replied Harry. He and Ron both sat in their chairs. Tonks was in Hermione's chair even though she and Remus both had their own now.

"I'm trying to get this map of Hermione's to work," she said, pointing her wand at the map of Great Britain that Hermione had enchanted. It looked to Harry like she was doing some of the things the way Hermione did but it wasn't working out for her. "She showed me how to enter the information from the Death Eaters but it isn't taking it for me." She tossed her wand on the desk and went to pour herself a glass of butterbeer.

"She showed me, too," said Harry, "but I can't see what you are doing wrong. How about you, Ron?"

Ron held his hands up in the universal "I don't have a clue, either" position and picked up a few of the reports that Tonks was trying to use. "Has Nott had anything to say, yet?" asked Ron.

"Who?" asked Tonks, looking at her stack of reports. "I thought Nott was in Azkaban."

"That's his dad," said Harry. "Theodore Nott is his son. He joined up two weeks ago." He handed her the first report they made when they talked to him that morning. "Hermione brought him down, bobbed him and we had our first chat after breakfast."

"Bobbed him?" asked a confused Tonks.

"OK, cut off his left arm," confessed Harry. "I thought bobbed sounded a little less gruesome."

"So do I," replied Tonks. She had never really liked the idea of cutting off the arms of their prisoners. Harry had agreed to stop as soon as she had another solution.

"I take it you haven't seen him then since you didn't notice he was here?" asked Harry.

"That would be correct, Harry," replied Tonks. "I did notice you have something in your trophy case."

"We do?" replied Harry, a little surprised. The three of them walked over to the trophy case that Ron and Harry had designed their first day in the Fortress while waiting for Dobby to return from his errands. Harry had never actually thought that something might be put in it but there it was; the Order of Merlin, First Class that he had received the day before.

"How did that get in there?" asked Ron. Then, turning towards Harry he asked, "I thought you didn't want to show that off?" He had a sort of a half of a smirk on his face as he waited for an explanation.

"I don't think that this is exactly on public display," said Harry, reasonably. "I asked Dobby to put it away and he probably didn't want his hard work on building this cabinet to go to waste."

"What about the plaque?" asked Tonks. She, too, knew that the last thing Harry would ever do was show off in front of his friends but she wasn't above some good-natured ribbing.

Harry looked back at the case and, sure enough, there was a plaque under the medal.

The Order of Merlin, First Class

Presented to

Harry James Potter

on September 3rd, 1997

by Minister of Magic

Rufus Scrimgeour

in the presence of his Great Friends

Hermione Potter and Ronald Weasley

"Thanks for mentioning us, Harry," said Ron. "Although, Hermione should probably be listed as your wife, not "Great Friend". Still, it looks nice."

"I suppose so," agreed Harry. "I don't mind it down here. I guess that is what this case was for anyway." He was about to get back to serious matters when a thought occurred to him.

"Dobby," called Harry.

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied the elf a second later. He was getting better at finding Harry when he was in the Fortress of Solitude. "What is it that you is needing, Harry Potter."

"I wanted to thank you for putting the Order of Merlin in the case, Dobby. It looks very nice there," stated Harry.

"Thank you, Harry Potter," said Dobby, pleased that Harry had liked his decision on where to display what he knew to be an important medal.

"There is a problem with the plaque, though," Harry went on. "It doesn't mention the other Great Friend that was with me at the time. Please take care of that for me, will you?" asked Harry.

Dobby broke down in tears. "Dobby didn't want to presume, Harry Potter. You is asking Dobby to help you with the stairs so Dobby is thinking that is why he is there."

"No, Dobby," Harry said. "You were there because you deserved to be there. You and your fellow elves were very important at the Burrow and you warned us in time to save the students, at least most of them, on the train. Where would we be without you, Dobby?" he asked. "Now, when you can gather yourself, you put your name on that plaque with the rest of us."

It seemed that it might be some time before Dobby could gather himself so he popped off, leaving a small puddle where he had been.

They spent the rest of the time reading the reports on the prisoners and sorted them into piles based on how quickly they wanted to interview them more deeply. Shortly after eleven o'clock, Hermione apparated in front of the statue and joined them in the office.

"Thank God," said Tonks. "None of us could figure out this bloody map of yours. Could you write down the instructions this time?" she asked, a little frustrated. She wasn't an idiot but, like a lot of people, felt like one when Hermione was around.

"Sure," said Hermione. "It isn't really that difficult."

"Don't say that," snapped Ron. "It looked easy enough when you showed us but we are just buggering up the sequence or something."

Hermione didn't respond. She had already taken a quill and piece of parchment and was writing down the instructions to use her maps. The rest continued with their sorting.

After about ten minutes, Hermione gave Tonks the two filled parchments.

"I don't know how I wasn't able to remember this," she said sarcastically. "It's as simple as A B C." Then she added, "D E F G H I alpha epsilon pi..."

"OK, OK. I get the picture," laughed Hermione. "They do a lot so they are probably a little complicated."

They sat there a while longer, Hermione helping Tonks enter some of the data into the maps and Harry and Ron looking at the preliminary reports. Ron, oddly enough to everyone, didn't seem to need the map to have a good idea of where the Death Eaters had been and when. He came up with a few conclusions before the map was half full.

"It seems that they spend more of their time gathering information than we suspected. Even in the month's time we were initially asking about, most of these blokes were doing intelligence work in four or five completely different places. They worked mostly in pairs and the pairings were changed quite often. There is also a lot of redundancy. Some places were checked two or three times a week and some just once every two weeks. All by different pairs." He thought about all he had deduced and then said, "I think he has planned it so that any one or two individual Death Eaters being lost won't leave him without experienced spies who are familiar with their area. The constant personnel changes would make it harder for any of them to make a trusted friend that they could plot with." Ron looked at Harry and concluded, "I think this is good in two ways for us. First, we have seriously buggered up his surveillance operations by removing so many Death Eaters so quickly. Second, by eliminating his recruits and a lot of his low-level spies, he will temporarily have to use his better and more experienced Death Eaters to fill in. If we can start getting some of them, we would get much better intelligence while he would loose even more of his base."

"It looks like we need to see what his highest priority areas were and then be there to catch them when they show up," concluded Harry. He looked at Hermione and Tonks. They were working fast but there was a lot of data from just one month's activities from just this first group. They needed a secretary or two to just enter the information. The rest of them needed to be free to gather more and pursue targets as they appeared. It looked like it would be a lot of work for someone.

Harry just remembered that there were some people who liked a lot of work. "Dobby," he said, surprising everyone else.

"Yes, Harry Potter," he said. He had composed himself and was his normal exuberant self once more.

"Dobby, can you see if you can do what Hermione and Tonks are doing?" Harry asked. He motioned for the girls to show him how to do it.

"I will try, Harry Potter," replied Dobby. He walked over between Hermione and Tonks. They looked at Harry for a moment and then Hermione showed him how to enter the information while Tonks did what was described by way of example. In a few minutes, and with a lot of references to the parchments, Dobby was slowly able to enter the data.

Harry saw that the information was being stored, albeit slowly and called Dobby back to him. "Dobby, I don't want you to enter the information. You are already too busy." Hermione and Tonks both gave him that "So why did you bother having us show him?" look and he continued. "In fact, the Fortress is expanding beyond what we originally thought possible. Where can we hire some more house elves?"

"Dobby is not sure, Harry Potter," replied Dobby. "Most house elves is born, live and die in their master's houses. If more are being born than are needed, then they are sold to other houses."

Well, I don't think we can wait for you or Winky to find someone, get married and have children," said Harry with a laugh. "Does anyone else know where we could find some available house elves?"

Hermione said, "I am not sure we need any more right now. There isn't a lot to enter yet and since Dobby knows how to do it as well as Tonks and me, why do we need to increase our staff?"

"Because we have just scraped the surface of what these idiots know." said Harry as he waved his arm towards the cell areas. "We have only asked a few of them about more than the last months activities. Some of them have been working with Voldemort for two years now. It will take long enough getting all the information we can out of them without having to put it into the map as well. I also don't think that Dobby should have to care for even as many as we have now all by himself. We need more house elves. I just want to know how to get them."

Hermione hated to admit it but it seemed that her reluctance to own house elves made things harder on the only one who wanted to be free: Dobby. "I guess you're right," she admitted. "I don't know where to hire or," she paused, "buy some more." They all knew it took a lot out of her to actually say that she didn't know something and to suggest they buy a house elf.

Harry hit himself on the forehead. "How could I have been so stupid?" he asked.

Ron said, "Well, you are probably a little addled from hitting yourself in the head." He grinned and Harry grimaced.

"It was a rhetorical question, idiot," he said. "Who do we know who employs dozens of house elves?" he asked. At there blank looks he said, "Hogwarts. I bet McGonagall would know all about where to buy more house elves." He looked at his watch. "And seeing as how it is lunch time, why don't we go talk to her?"

They all got up except for Tonks. She sat still, looking annoyed.

"What's the matter, Tonks?" asked Harry.

"I was supposed to be meeting Remus for lunch," she replied, "but he seems to be late. I'm hungry but I can't eat with you lot since I'm not supposed to be here and I didn't bring any galleons."

Harry reached into his pocked and put a few galleons on the table. "I'll get it back from him later. Just leave a note telling him where you are going and have some lunch."

"How can she go somewhere to eat if she isn't supposed to be in this area?" asked Ron. He turned to Tonks who now looked like an old hag, one of her favorite disguises. Ron said, "Oh, I forgot."

They let Dobby take them to the Great Hall who then returned to prepare lunch for the prisoners. They made their way to their usual places with a little difficulty.

The few students that subscribed to the Quibbler had by now, of course, shared the wedding photos and article with their classmates. Despite the best efforts of Molly and Emma, the wedding dress showed the signs of wind damage fairly well, especially now that everyone knew she was the Banshee of Hogsmead.

Fortunately, Lavender Brown, now a friend again since Hermione had permanently removed herself from competition for the heart of Ron, came over first.

"Hi, Harry; Hermione," she said, and with a suddenly much more interested look and sultry voice, "Ron." She lingered over Ron like a vulture eyeing a turkey dinner. Still keeping Ron in sight, she said, "I felt so bad that your dress was ruined on your wedding day until I realized that it was destroyed saving who knows how many lives. I suppose it was a small price to pay, all things considered."

"Yes," said Hermione, perking up at once. "I don't really mind at all." The fact was she had minded a little since she really liked the dress but the perspective that Lavender had shown her made her realize that a dress and a little teasing from her friends paled in comparison to a child losing a parent or even worse, the other way around. She added, "My mother and I even worked on the dress to make it hold up a little better. It might surprise you to know that riding a dragon is hard on lace."

They both laughed at this. Generally speaking, the wedding and banshee stories had already been out long enough for the photos to not cause much of ripple. Ginny seemed to have to answer the most questions since it was known that she had been after Harry for years. How had he gotten away, especially to Hermione? The more superficial students couldn't figure that out at all. Ginny was a real "looker" as they say but Hermione was fairly plain. More than one student assumed that Hermione had used a spell or love potion on Harry. Ginny, for her part, did her best to stop such rumors. Ginny had also noticed something else. Hermione actually did look a little better. There wasn't anything you could put your finger on; her hair looked the same; she didn't wear any makeup; she didn't dress any different. There was just something about her that made the whole package look a little better. She would have to think about that later. Right now, she was busy discussing the first day of classes with Neville. She had decided that they were dating. She would inform him of this tonight.

After lunch, Harry turned to Hermione. "Hermione, could you please arrange for a meeting with McGonagall? You would be less noticeable since you can climb the steps better than I can right now."

Hermione agreed and, waiting for a moment until the headmistress wasn't engaged in conversation, walked up and spoke with her briefly. She returned and sat down next to Harry.

"She suggested seven o'clock tonight," said Hermione. "She also said that her office will be clear so there will be no need to knock, as she put it." They all knew what that meant.

Charms went pretty much the same as it always did. Flitwick, the tiny Charms professor, had a short review of the last subjects covered from the previous year and then moved on into new material. He was impressed that Dougal Weasley seemed to be so up to date. He remembered Ron's Uncle Durin, and was surprised that he had married. Knowing that Flitwick would know every witch that had gone through Hogwarts for the last fifty odd years, Harry and Hermione were relieved when Dougal had claimed an American witch mother. They were said to have met while she was visiting and they had fallen in love in the sixties. Flitwick was satisfied with the answer and let the subject drop.

After charms, Hermione went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron had Dobby take them to their office.

"I want to see if Nott is in a more agreeable mood," said Harry. He didn't really think he would be but you never know. Tonks had not yet returned from lunch. They decided to walk this time so that Harry could get a look at the prisoners. They were all now in either the smallest cells or the next size up. He wondered if any were ready to make a deal for better quarters. He tried to see if any were attempting to get his attention without the others seeing. That was the only disadvantage of having clear cell walls; you could never have a discreet communication with a prisoner. None on this side of the snake door seemed to be inclined to want to talk so he opened the door, using parseltongue for a change, and they went into the new section.

Nott was laying on his cot; there really wasn't much else to do. He looked up when they approached but remained in place. Harry activated the sound.

"Good afternoon, Nott," said Harry. "How has your day been going?" He watched for any reaction from Nott.

"A lot better than yours will once you have to start explaining what happened to me," replied Nott. "A lot of my friends saw your mudblood lead me away yesterday and they will be asking a lot of questions." He smirked as he thought of how much trouble this would cause The Boy Who Lived.

Harry laughed. "Yes," he agreed. "Bulstrode was quite upset when she thought we had abducted you. She isn't your girlfriend, is she?" asked Harry. He thought that even Nott must have some standards.

"She is a good friend," replied Nott. "She won't rest until I am released."

"Actually," said Ron, "she would prefer it if you weren't released until you were absolutely cured. She couldn't wait to get away from you this morning."

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" asked Nott. "I haven't seen her since yesterday."

"I saw her this morning," continued Ron. "In fact, I was you. She didn't notice the difference. She, and I suspect all the rest of the Slytherins by now, expect you to be in the hospital wing for several months."

Nott didn't know what to say to this. He stood there with a defiant but concerned look on his face.

Harry picked up on this and said, "I'm not sure if you are aware of this, Nott, but this is one of our smallest cells. If you cooperated just a little, I might be able to get you a little more room. Perhaps a paper every morning as well."

Nott went back into defiant mode. "You think I'll betray the Dark Lord for a little floor space and a newspaper? You must be mad." He sat back down and turned away from them.

"I'm not mad," said Harry, "but if you don't have anything to do besides sit, stand or lie down, you might achieve that result. We'll check back in a week or so and see how you are doing." He turned off the sound and talked to Ron for a minute.

"I think we need to give Mr. Nott a few minutes to consider his position and try to contact us. Let's walk up this way a bit," he said, indicating the far end of the area.

"I don't know how long it will take him to wise up," said Ron. "He might surprise us and take months."

"He won't take months," said Harry, pointing towards an unused area by the smaller snake skin. Ron understood that they were pretending to discuss anything but Nott. "I have no intention of waiting for the traitor to do some serious damage. I would prefer to get enough clues from him that wouldn't violate his vow but, in the end, Nott is expendable. If he won't cooperate, he will have to be asked directly."

Ron looked at the snake skin thoughtfully. He faced Harry and said, "I can't say I disagree but we have to try to make sure we don't become as ruthless as Voldemort. When we win, I want to make sure that we are still the good guys."

Harry understood where Ron was coming from but he had another perspective on the matter. "Ron," he said, "I appreciate your concerns but as long as we only threaten and harm Death Eaters and Voldemort threatens and harms innocent people, women and children included, then I don't feel that we are in danger of going dark."

Ron agreed and they turned to walk back to the office. Nott watched them approach and seemed to be having an internal struggle. He didn't signal them, however and they walked on by. When they had finally reached the office, Tonks and Remus were both in their chairs.

"I see you made it back from lunch," said Harry as he walked in the door.

"I see you are still limping quite a bit, Harry" replied Remus. "When are you seeing the specialist?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," said Harry. "I won't mind getting straightened out, believe me."

"I suppose not," said Tonks. "Still, fifty or so dead Death Eaters, another fifty or so captured, hundreds of students saved along with Hogsmead. I don't think a limp would be too high a price to pay even if it were permanent, do you?"

Harry thought about it. "I guess not," he admitted. He didn't want to give himself too much credit but Tonks was right; a little personal discomfort would be a small price to pay for their successes. He still believed that it would probably cost his life to kill Voldemort so a few aches and pains along the way should be expected.

"Well, hopefully the healer will take care of that anyway," said Ron. He didn't think that getting a severe limp like Harry's at seventeen was anything to take lightly.

"Sure," said Harry, hoping for a change of subject. "Anything new on your end, Remus?" he asked. Remus and the twins were still working on refining the Death Eater maps and any improvement would be an accomplishment. If they could have detected the Death Eaters just a hundred yards further, perhaps Harry wouldn't have had to take such extreme measures.

"Well, yes and no, Harry," replied Lupin. "We have managed to finally have some detector medallions work with the maps but we still have the two-hundred yard limitation. The improvement is that the medallions are the only things that have to be in range. The maps could be anywhere."

"So we can have a map of Hogwarts, Hogsmead and Diagon Alley here being monitored and know what is happening at any location?" asked Ron.

"That is correct," said Remus. "It wouldn't have helped with the Hogwarts Express but the highly populated areas should be well covered. We just need to have someone watching the maps at all times."

"I'll be meeting with McGonagall later tonight to discuss just that issue," said Harry. "The paperwork and monitoring parts of the operation should be easy enough for house elves to do. Hogwarts has dozens so she must have a good source to provide them."

"Who are you going to put in charge of the house elves?" asked Remus. "They generally take their orders literally unless someone is directly overseeing them."

"I was thinking of Dobby but I see what you mean," he replied. He remembered how Dobby's overzealous attitude had cost him about forty-thousand galleons for Hermione's books. "We need someone who can tell the difference between reconnaissance and invasion. Do you have any ideas?"

"We would need several people if you want humans," replied Tonks. "After about eight or so hours, it gets harder to focus on what you are doing."

"The only problem with that is you would have more people knowing about the Fortress and what we are doing," said Ron.

Harry thought about that for a bit. They could split up the duties between them. The hardest part would be having someone here during school hours. It was true they had permission to be absent from classes but this would be long term. They needed someone they could trust who could be in the Fortress to monitor the elves and determine when just noting the names, times, locations and contacts of the Death Eaters would be sufficient and when help would have to be sent to someone. It would be a plus if they were sharp enough to know if the Ministry would be able to handle the Death Eaters or if Harry and his crew would need to be sent. Mad-eye would be good at this but he was too useful to the Order of the Phoenix to be wasted on this sort of a low level job. They almost needed someone new who wanted to fight Voldemort.

"I think I have someone who would be good for the day shift," said Harry. "You remember those three girls that were with Hermione in Riddle Manor? Well, one of them, Martha something, was the daughter of an auror. She seemed to have her act together and I think she's available. She has already been here so we won't be giving her any more info other than how to get in and out. We can even have a house elf do that for her if we want." He waited for the others to comment.

"I would prefer using the house elves for transport, but otherwise I don't see a problem, if she is willing to do it," said Remus.

"She sure wouldn't be likely to be sympathetic towards any of them," agreed Ron.

"OK, then," said Harry, "I'll send Hedwig with a request to see her after my appointment tomorrow." He left to send the note. By the time he returned, Hermione had joined the rest of them.

"I heard you were off sending notes to pretty girls," she said. "I might have to start keeping a better eye on you, Romeo." She gave him a short huff and then kissed him.

"Well, you know my weakness for older women but I am already taken," replied Harry. "I suppose I had better make sure I don't decide to call you Honey, though."

"Bloody right you won't!" snapped Hermione. "You had better not mention that word unless you are spreading it on your toast."

"What's wrong with Honey as a nickname?" asked Tonks. "Lots of couples call each other that."

"It happens to be the first name of a very pretty, very young and very smitten Transfiguration professor," replied Hermione. "She just can't get enough of our Mr. Potter, here."

"I've heard of students having crushes on professors but not so much the other way around," said Lupin.

"She just has a crush on The Boy Who Lived," said Harry. "Just like Slughorn. Doesn't know me at all but wants to be my friend."

"I think she wanted to be more than your friend," said Hermione. "If I wasn't there, she would have been sitting in your lap by the end of class."

The others laughed but Hermione didn't seem to be kidding to Harry so he decided to change the subject. "Remus says the maps are able to be used from here, as long as a medallion is within two hundred yards of the area covered. We were thinking about having house elves monitor them with a witch or wizard overseeing them."

"Don't you think the elves can supervise themselves?" asked Hermione, hotly.

"Finished your thirty-some thousand books, yet?" asked Harry, reminding her of the last time a house elf was allowed to follow his own initiative.

"Well," she said, buying time to think of a reply, "I don't think all of them are, well, ah.."

"Insane?" suggested Ron. They all laughed.

"I don't think Dobby is insane, but you may have a point, Harry," agreed Hermione. "Is that what you wanted to see Martha about?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "If we get a response, I can see her tomorrow after my appointment."

"You can't expect her to be here all the time, can you?" asked Hermione.

"Just during school days," replied Harry. "The rest of the time we can have them check with one of us if there is a problem. I just don't want them popping into our classes all of the time. That would be distractive as well as indiscreet."

"There may be other uses for house elves," said Ron. "If we could get a few volunteers, those anti-apparition wards they put up would be useful. The Hogwarts elves worked with us at the Burrow but if we could actually train some as a regular team to work with us on taking out groups of Death Eaters, that might work out better all around."

Hermione started laughing out loud.

"What's the matter with that idea?" asked Ron, a little hurt. He didn't think it was too terrible an idea.

Hermione tried to stop laughing. Eventually she toned it down to a big smile and said, "I'm sorry, Ron. It's a good idea. I was just thinking of a movie I saw a couple of summers ago. It was about an army commando. When you said you thought elves could work with us on capturing Death Eaters, I pictured Dobby with a bandana on his forehead and those straps of bullets over his shoulders with huge bulging muscles. I guess you had to have seen it." She seemed to calm down but remained giggly for quite some time.

"It would all depend on how much they would or could be involved in that sort of an activity," said Remus. "House elves aren't supposed to be able to act against a witch or wizard unless it is to directly protect their house or master."

"Dobby sent Lucius Malfoy flying down two flights of stairs when he pulled his wand on me," said Harry. "I wasn't his master."

"He did?" asked Tonks. "Bloody hell, Harry. He could have got into all sorts of trouble for that."

"But if he could do that, then maybe others could act against the Death Eaters," said Ron. "No one will complain if a Death Eater buys it at the hands of a house elf, will they?"

"Some might," said Remus. "We might have to check on that. If they can only put up their anti-apparition wards, that would be a great help."

"We'll check with McGonagall tonight on a lot of this," said Harry. "It's quitting time. Let's call it a day so you two," he indicated Remus and Tonks, "can start for home and the rest of us can clean up for supper and our meeting with McGonagall."

They left Dobby with instructions to keep an eye on the prisoners and to prepare them their dinners. He was to notify them if any gave him any trouble or wanted to talk to their captors.

At six o'clock, the students entered the Great Hall for supper. Harry had apparated them in and pretended to say goodbye to Dobby in case anyone wondered how he got there. The elf had been so good at taking them places and then leaving quickly that most students actually thought they saw him.

They walked to their usual alcove outside the Great Hall and apparated to the Head's Suite where Ron went to his dorm and Harry and Hermione to their bedroom to change for their meeting with McGonagall. Harry and Hermione both changed into normal attire for adult witches and wizards. Ron had done the same and joined them at five minutes to seven.

At seven o'clock exactly, Harry apparated the three of them to a spot directly in front of McGonagall's desk. She was waiting for them and only gave the slightest flinch.

"Good evening, Hermione; Harry; Ron," she said as they relaxed from the trip. "Please, have a seat." They noticed that some comfortable chairs had been arranged in the room. If fact, there were four chairs forming a square around a table with a tea pot and four cups and saucers. McGonagall walked around her desk and took one of the chairs for herself. The others followed suit, albeit with a little confusion.

"Good evening, Headmistress," said Harry, followed by the other two. "Thank you for meeting with us, tonight."

"No problem at all, Harry," said McGonagall. "Before we start, however, I would like to suggest something that I have discussed with Albus." They all instinctively looked at his portrait above the desk. He beamed down on all of them but remained silent.

"You yourself brought to my attention, Harry, the fact that I addressed Hermione more socially than I did yourself," said the Headmistress. "I was unable to give a satisfactory answer as to why that was at the time. After discussing the matter with Albus, I, or I should say, we, came to the conclusion that there is a dual nature to our relationship now that makes things a little less defined than in the past." She paused and poured herself a cup of tea. She offered some to the rest but only Hermione accepted.

Harry took the opportunity of the lull to ask a question. "I'm not sure I understand, Headmistress. What exactly do you mean by dual nature?" He sensed that something important was coming up and wanted to understand it completely.

"I mean that you are still my students in this school," she said, indicating all of them, "but, in another sense, you are my equals or even superiors with regards to the fight against Voldemort," said McGonagall. "You may not fully comprehend it but you are a leader in this struggle, Harry, perhaps even The Leader. It makes it difficult for me sometimes because I am both above and beneath you depending on the subjects being discussed."

"I don't know what to say, Headmistress," said Harry. "You must realize that you have my utmost respect and I would never consider myself to be your superior by any means."

"But you are, Harry," said Minerva. "Right now, you have come to discuss matters concerning the war on Voldemort. You may need my advice or perhaps information but the decisions have already been made. I have no doubt that I will be of service but you have your General, "she indicated Ron, "Coordinator," she nodded to Hermione, "and you, yourself are the Warrior. As we sit here, Theodore Nott, also a student of mine, is your prisoner. I am actively helping you conceal from his classmates that fact. I also acknowledge that he would be your prisoner with or without my consent. And do not think that I am unaware that you may decide, again with or without my approval, that information that he possesses is worth taking his life to obtain. The support staff in an army is important but it is best if it knows it's place. I know mine. Therefore, when we are discussing non-school issues such as now, please call me Minerva. It will help remind me that I am addressing my equals."

"And I thought it was hard to call Professor Dumbledore, Grampa," said Hermione. The portrait of the old Headmaster laughed at this comment. It seemed to lighten up what had become quite the tense and portentous conversation.

"Well, we'll have to work on it, Hermione," said McGonagall. She had also allowed a slight grin. "Now, what is the subject for tonight?" She looked at Harry.

"Well, Head, I mean, ah," he paused. Could he really do this? Harry had last been this nervous when about to face a Hungarian Horntail. "The reason we asked to see you, Minerva." He had to stop to catch his breath. "The reason we asked to see you is to find out how we should go about hiring or buying a few house elves. We have some office work to do over a long period and thought that would be right up their alley."

McGonagall looked at them all. "Well, that was a little anticlimactic."

"We might also want some of them to train for combat support," offered Ron.

"Now we're talking," said McGonagall. "What do you mean by combat support, Ron?"

"We were thinking of the same sort of things they did at the Burrow. Anti-apparition wards and maybe removing any wounded. The two biggest problems with them is they can't capture Death Eaters who won't give them permission and they might not be able to even stun anyone. We would need to know their limitations."

"We also want to make them understand that they are free to refuse to help in dangerous missions, even if we do have to own them," added Hermione. She didn't want to order anyone to their death. Volunteers only, please.

"As to where you may obtain house elves, I am afraid that Dobby and Winky were the first that were hired since I became Headmaster," said Grampa. "I only did so to help them out. We have many more than are necessary."

"That is true," agreed Minerva. "Perhaps you should start your search here. I have the ability to order them to not disclose their conversations with you so that you could be completely honest with them on the duties and risks you are asking them to assume."

"That might work out for everyone," said Harry. "During slow times they could pitch in and help out the other elves. If Winky is any kind of a normal house elf, they go stir crazy with nothing to do."

"It sounds like we should pursue that avenue unless other problems arise," said McGonagall. "Slider. Come here, please," she said, as if to the air.

"Yes, Mistress," said a house elf who appeared before them. "What can Slider be doing for you?" The elf appeared to be on the older side for an elf but still fit enough for work.

"This is Slider," she said. "He is the head house elf of this school."

"Slider, I am authorizing these three students," she indicated Harry, Hermione and Ron, "to talk to your fellow elves. They will be asking for assistance that is not directly related to the school. I give my permission for any elf who so chooses to put aside their Hogwarts duties to help them. They will explain everything and I wish what they say to remain secret."

"I understand, Mistress," said Slider.

"Hello, Slider," said Harry. "My name is Harry Potter. I am very glad to meet you." He extended his hand in greeting.

Slider didn't quite know what to do. McGonagall indicated that he should take Harry's hand.

"Slider is honored to shake the hand of the Great Harry Potter," said Slider. "Dobby is saying that the Great Harry Potter is good and kind to house elves but we isn't knowing if we should be believing Dobby since Dobby is wanting to be free."

"Dobby is free and I was the one who freed him, because he wanted to be free," said Harry. "I am also the one who made Winky my slave because she wanted to be my slave. I will not judge any elf, either way, but will do my best to see they get whatever they want."

"Winky is saying this to us all and we is knowing that the Great Harry Potter is a Great Wizard," said Slider. "The Hogwarts house elves will serve the Great Harry Potter well."

"I understand and appreciate that, Slider. Please let the other elves know that we will be talking to them this Sunday. I will be looking for a few elves for some office work but will also need several willing to help with dangerous tasks against Voldemort. I will only take those who understand the danger and are willing to take a great risk in helping us. No one will be ordered to help us. We will be contacting you to set up a time to meet the rest of the elves."

"I am telling the other elves, Master Harry Potter," said Slider. With a pop, he was gone.

"Do you really think that house elves will be of use in battle, Harry?" asked McGonagall. She thought Harry and Slider had sounded like two tribal leaders forming a great alliance.

"Lucius Malfoy had his wand on me and had started the Avada Kadavra when Dobby blasted him down two flights of stairs with a point of his finger, Minerva," said Harry. "I think Voldemort had better batten down his Death Eaters."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25 - All fixed now

September 5th, 1997

"This is one thing that I will miss," said Harry. He was laying in bed, relaxing while his dutiful wife was rubbing and massaging his legs. Between the original injuries and the near lack of use for the past week, they were pretty stiff the first thing in the morning. Hermione was following Madam Pomfrey's advice and getting his blood to circulate before Harry tried to stand.

Hermione smirked. "I suppose if you don't need me to get your blood flowing in your legs, we can find other ways to get it to flow in other places."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," replied Harry. "I like back rubs, too."

"Who doesn't?" She stopped the massage. "Are we ready for our bath, now?"

Harry grabbed her hand and pulled himself up. After a moments contemplation he said, "I think I am. Are you?"

By way of an answer, she walked into the bathroom and started filling the tub. They had discovered that it was definitely big enough for two. When she returned, she had already hung her robe on the door.

"Coming?" she asked.

"I love being married," he replied.

By the time they had Dobby bring them down to breakfast, Ron had finished his first round. Ginny was reading the Daily Prophet next to Neville with Dougal and Luna discussing an article in the Quibbler. At least Luna was discussing it and Dougal was pretending to listen. Hermione noted that Draco was making the most of his fresh start.

"Good morning," said Harry as Hermione helped him onto the bench. She was secretly hoping that she wouldn't have to be doing this again for another eighty years or so but with Harry, it could be next month.

"Morning, Grampa," said Ginny. Ron and Neville both laughed at this but Hermione didn't seem to be in a humorous mood. Luna and Dougal were unaware that anyone had said anything.

"Ha, ha," said Hermione, deadpan. "I think you should be watching how I do this considering your chances of being in this position at some time or another." It was a known fact that Neville tended to attract accidents.

"Hey!" said Neville. "I'll have you know I'm not as clumsy as people think. I caught the prettiest witch in Hogwarts, didn't I?" Apparently, that was worth a kiss, any day of the week.

Harry considered making a comment about not knowing Neville was dating the Transfiguration professor but decided to live through breakfast.

"Ginny?" asked Harry. "Have you had a lesson with the new Potions Master?" Professor Slughorn skipped town shortly after Dumbledore's funeral and hadn't been seen since. He did turn in his resignation before disappearing, at least.

"Good Lord, yes!" she stated. "It's like listening to Binns discussing seventeenth century tort law." She mimed having her head hit the table from boredom.

"Well, at least we have him first period," said Hermione. "We should be able to stay awake."

"I wouldn't count on it," contributed Luna. She had heard what Ginny had said and seemed to agree. "I had a terrible time focusing on what he wanted us to do." Everyone, including Dougal, looked at her in disbelief. As far as anyone knew, she had never focused on anything for long, including Death Eater attacks.

"Great," said Ron. Then, turning to Harry, "Did you ever get your potions book back?" Harry had hidden it after nearly killing Draco last year.

"Yes," said Harry, "just before we left. It sounds like we might need it this year."

Hermione said nothing. She had been hounding Harry all last year about that book. She decided that it was better for her to drop the subject than risk having another pointless argument. Despite being written by Snape, one note had saved Ron's life and another spell had helped rescue her.

At a quarter to nine, Harry said, "I guess we had better get down to class. Dobby?"

"Yes, Harry Potter?" said Dobby, almost immediately.

"Please take Hermione, Ron and me to the Potions classroom," said Harry. "See you later," he said to the rest of the group.

Dobby transported them all to the dungeon used for potions. The dank stone walls, floor and ceiling were ideal for suppressing the fires that were bound to flare up from time to time. As was the case yesterday, they were the first to arrive. The door, however, was open; most unusual for Hogwarts classes. The three of them walked into the classroom and sat at their usual table.

A middle aged wizard was at the board writing what was apparently his name. He was of average height and build with slightly graying brown hair. The name on the board was "Rolinger Triffle.". He put down the chalk and turned to walk to his desk. Seeing the students he said, "Good morning. I am Professor Triffle. This is the seventh year NEWT Potions class. We will be starting with a review of lab safety procedures. The first and most important rule in Potions class is to remain aware of your actions and surroundings at all times." He paused. "Yes, Miss? You have a question?"

Harry and Ron looked at the only "Miss" in the room and noticed she had her hand in the air. "Excuse me, Professor. Perhaps we should wait for the rest of the class to arrive."

Professor Triffle looked at his watch and said, "Oh. I didn't realize it was still early. Yes, Miss. We will wait until nine o'clock to see if anyone else shows up. Thank you." He went and sat at his desk and reviewed his lesson plan for the hour.

The three of them chatted a little about their plans for the weekend. Harry and Hermione thought that they would stop in at Grimmauld Place as long as they were in the neighborhood. During this time Seamus and Dean walked in and took their seats.

Professor Triffle looked up but Hermione said, "Not yet, Professor," and he went back to his notes. Eventually, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini of Slytherin, Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan of Hufflepuff and Dougal had all taken their seats. It was a little after nine o'clock and Triffle had not looked up since Dean and Seamus arrived so Hermione said, tentatively, "Professor Triffle?" He looked up at her. "We're all here now, sir."

With a smile to her and the room in general, Triffle stood up and walked to a spot next to his name on the board and said, "Good morning. I am Professor Triffle. This is the seventh year NEWT Potions class. We will be starting with a review of lab safety procedures. The first and most important rule in Potions class is to remain aware of your actions and surroundings at all times."

"Deja vu," thought Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Professor Triffle then went into great detail on the proper way to position your caldron, the safest method to insert ingredients with a fire burning and proper technique for viewing your potions to check their color, consistency, viscosity and odor. Ron started to doze and caught himself just before his head hit the table.

Professor Triffle noticed and decided to comment. "I should warn you that I noticed in some of my other classes that the benches, especially in the back of the room, seem to be slippery. Several students have already hit their heads on the tables due to this problem. Please be careful."

The rest of the class was a combination of mind-numbing boredom punctuated by a few moments of abject panic as they attempted to brew their potions while Triffle walked among them making non-stop comments about it's uses and variations. Hermione seemed to be enraptured by all of the minutiae but the rest of the class kept drifting off only to be shocked awake by the odd explosion or fire as various of their classmates tipped their caldrons on their way to dreamland.

After several long days, the hour was over and they packed up their equipment. Hermione was able to head off to two more classes before she and Harry would have to floo to St. Mungo's for his appointment. Harry and Ron, on the other hand, were free. Ron had his first class with their new Defense professor while Harry and Hermione would have to miss it.

The two of them waited until they were alone and then Harry apparated them to their office. As usual, Tonks was there.

"Watcher, Harry; Ron," she said cheerily. "No Hermione again?"

"She has a few more classes than we do, Tonks," said Harry. "Although to be honest, if I had to go to History of Magic after that Potions class we just had, I would take a pillow and blanket."

Ron laughed and added, "Yeah. I never thought I would miss Slughorn or even Snape but at least you didn't constantly pass out in their classes."

Tonks laughed and went back to her reports. Harry joined her but Ron seemed to be distracted, and kept looking at Tonks. She finally noticed and said, "What's up, Ron? You look like you want to talk."

Ron blushed a little but decided that he might as well go on, now that he was caught. "I was wondering if I might ask you a personal question?"

Tonks was surprised and Harry was interested but Ron hadn't asked him to leave so it couldn't be that personal. "Sure, Ron," she said. "Just remember that I'm engaged to a werewolf and we'll be fine."

"It's not personal about you, exactly," he continued. "I know that your dad is a muggle, right?" Tonks nodded. "Well, I was wondering how they ever got together, without violating the secrecy laws." Ron blushed even further.

Harry knew what this was about. Ron had asked Hermione a couple of weeks ago to see if Julie wanted to see him but with everything going on since then, it had been pushed to the back burner. Perhaps breakfast with Harry and Hermione together and Ginny and Neville and even Luna and Dougal had him feeling a little left out. Ron and Julie had gotten along fine at his wedding but it would not be an easy relationship to pursue.

"They met after Mum left school," said Tonks. "Dad was a muggle professor of Mythology and Mum took one of his classes to learn about her family a little. They hit it off and eventually got married. I don't know how that would help you, though." She looked sad. She, too, had seen how well Ron and Julie liked each other. "If you like, I can check on the rules with muggle dating."

"That would be great, Tonks," said Ron, cheering up a bit. "I know it would be easier to find a nice witch but Julie and I just seemed to fit, if you know what I mean. We only met the once but I can't get her out of my head."

"There has to be a way, mate," said Harry. "There are too many half-bloods in the world for it to be too difficult. I'm sure Tonks will figure out the details." He shuffled over to the maps. They had Hogwarts, Hogsmead, Diagon Alley and the most recent addition, the Burrow. The Burrow map might be more of a precaution than the others but Harry felt better knowing they could watch the place. Most of his family lived there, after all. It was protected by a variation of the unplottable charm with a little fidelius throw in. Since Arthur was a Ministry Department Head, he couldn't hide his house completely but they were able to make it sort of unthinkable. This meant that people who specifically needed to find it could still do so but if you were trying to just come up with a few places that, for instance, Harry Potter might be, the Burrow would not come to mind. That was how he was able to visit and practice spells there all summer without being attacked. The wedding of Bill and Fleur, however, was in the papers and well known. Harry thought that Flitwick had outdone himself when he suggested it.

Harry looked at the map of Diagon Alley. It included, when fully zoomed out, Knockturn Alley and he could see two Death Eaters going in to Borgin and Burkes. That was to be expected. He did not recognize the names but noted them on a piece of parchment along with the time and date. This was what the elves, with luck, would be doing soon. They would have their orders to watch the Death Eaters in certain places such as Knockturn Alley and to immediately report their presence in others. This led Harry back to a problem he had thought of earlier.

"Tonks," he said, "and you too, Ron. Remember at the World Cup? Those tents were small but they had lots of room inside."

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "I wonder how they do that?"

"I guess that leaves you out," said Harry. "Tonks? Do you know how that is achieved?"

"I'm not sure but I guess it is magic, Harry," said Tonks, with all seriousness.

"Thanks, Tonks," replied Harry. "Grampa will probably know. I plan on bringing his portrait back anyway." He sat back down.

"Why do you ask, anyway?" asked Tonks. She needed a break from reading her supplemental reports and this sounded interesting.

"We are already in B Block with the small cells. Sooner, rather than later, I think, we will run out and then it is either tear down some of the nice ones to make room or come up with another plan. If we can have more cells in the same amount of space, that would be ideal. It made me think of the tents."

"Sounds good to me," said Ron. "I know there are some spells to do that but don't know any of them. Maybe Flitwick could teach us a few this year."

"Maybe," agreed Harry. He considered that the small professor might be a great deal of help if he could be convinced to join them. He would ask Grampa about that, too.

The three of them spent the next hour or so reading the recent histories of the Death Eaters that had been interrogated in detail. Most, but not all, seemed to be fairly low level thugs that wanted the protection and opportunities that Voldemort could offer. A few, though, seemed to have their acts together and their enlistment was a little harder to understand. It seemed to Harry that the most that they could hope for is a place on the floor to sleep, food to eat and the chance to stay in the good graces of Voldemort. That wasn't that big a draw and he started to suspect that some sort of mind manipulation could have also taken place. He would try to check this out later with Nott. Draco didn't seem to have the single-minded loyalty common to the other Death Eaters so perhaps he could also offer some insights.

At eleven-thirty he excused himself and went to change for the trip to St. Mungo's. Hermione was still in class and it took a little longer to change when she wasn't helping. He wondered, not for the first time, how he would have been able to manage if they hadn't married when they had. It is one thing to have your wife help dress and bathe you, quite another for a girlfriend. He contented himself with the realization that, so far, he had only come to see his marriage as a blessing. He hoped that Hermione didn't view it as a burden.

Shortly before noon, Hermione returned and put down her book bag. "Hello, Dear," she said as she kissed him. She had made it a very short kiss of greeting since she had to change before they left.

Harry, deciding he was going to the hospital anyway, said mischievously, "Hi, Honey." as she started to undress.

Hermione turned back to him and, grabbing his collar with her left hand, pulled her right back as if to punch him but then smiled and said, "I'm glad you got that out of your system and will never have to say that again." She went back to changing.

Harry sat down and watched her. He had a dreamy, contented smile on his face. She noticed him after a bit and asked, "What are you doing?" She had taken off her school shirt and was putting on a lacy pink blouse.

"Watching you," he said, honestly. "It's my new hobby."

Hermione blushed and smiled brilliantly. "I know a lot of women who would think that was extremely sexist of you," she said. "Personally, I feel lucky that you think I'm worth the time."

"Always, Hermione," he said, getting up to give her a hug and kiss.

They were lost in each other's embrace for about a minute when Hermione said, "We have to go. McGonagall said we can use her floo, remember?"

"I hate traveling by floo," grumbled Harry. "It makes me twist in ways that I find difficult, right now."

"Well, we could have Dobby take us," suggested Hermione.

"Dobby is honored to take Harry Potter and his Mrs. anywhere they is wanting to go," said Dobby, a second later.

"Sounds good to me," said Harry. "Do you want to inform Minerva?" He smirked as she was a little shocked at his use of her first name.

"I will inform the Headmistress, yes," she corrected. She went and flooed McGonagall about their choice of transportation and it's reason. McGonagall agreed and wished them a safe trip.

"OK, Dobby," said Harry. "Let's be off to St. Mungo's."

Two hours later, they were just finishing up with the specialist. He had a hand-held device similar to Mad-eye's magic eye. He could use it to examine Harry's bones and muscles in great detail. With the deft hand that comes with decades of experience, Healer McGoodman had fine-tuned the fracture points from not only Harry's recent train ride, but also his past quidditch injuries as well as his encounter with the giant spider in the third task's maze. Harry tried out his legs and found that they were a little stiff from lack of use but otherwise in almost new condition.

"Thank you, Healler McGoodman," he said as he walked about the room. The healer watched him and was satisfied that his injuries were repaired.

"No problem at all, Harry," said the old healer. "I know the parents of some of the kids that were on that train. Believe me, I was glad that I could do something for you." He started to put his equipment away.

Harry and Hermione walked out to the Orthopedic Spell healer's assistant desk. Harry said, "Hello, I am Harry Potter and I have just seen Healer McGoodman. Do you have my bill ready yet or will that be sent to me?"

The healer's assistant said, "I believe that the hospital has decided to cover your expenses, Mr. Potter. From the memo I saw, the administrators thought that it was the least we could do."

Harry was touched. He was about to thank her and leave when he had another thought. "I thank you and your hospital very much," he said. "However, I would like their thoughtfulness and generosity to be used on those that need it more. I can afford my own treatment. Please ask them to use that money to help out others who need it more." Without another word, he wrote out a draft from Gringotts for ten-thousand galleons and handed it to her.

"That is very generous of you, Mr. Potter," she said, quite shocked. "I will see that this is used where it is needed the most."

Harry and Hermione walked towards the doors of the ward. Before they got to them, Harry stopped to talk to his wife. He knew it was a silly request but he felt excited with his newly repaired legs.

"Do you mind if we walk to Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked Hermione. "I want to stretch my legs a little now that I have the chance." It was about three miles by foot but they could always apparate if they got tired so Hermione agreed.

They were just about to head for the doors again when a witch and wizard entered the ward. The father was carrying his young son, about six or seven by the looks of him, in his arms. The boy had his arms around his father's neck with his legs dangling below. At least one leg. The other leg stopped just above his knee and had a sort of a peg-leg strapped on it. Harry and Hermione backed out of their way when the witch saw them and stopped.

"Why you're Harry Potter," she said to Harry. She looked at Hermione and said, "And you must be his bride," she added smiling broadly. The wizard now also looked at them with a smile on his face.

"Yes, we are," said Harry. "Pleased to meet you," he said, taking each of their hands in turn, including the boy's. Hermione followed his example.

"We're from Hogsmead," the witch explained. "I'm Dermine Frint and this is my husband Frank. Don't know what would have happened if you two hadn't shown up. I'll tell you, when I saw that dragon, I guess that was you," she said to Harry, "I thought that things couldn't get worse. We were on the edge of town where the trolls and those Death Eaters hit first. They hit our house; that was when Jimmy here got hurt." She frowned and looked at her son. "Well, they were going to kill us all, I thought and then you flew over and I heard this screaming and I gave up. Then you blew those bas...," she paused, looking at her son, "I mean those men away with your fire and killed the trolls and I was never so glad to see a dragon in my life." She seemed to have to catch her breath so her husband took over.

"We aren't kidding. Those trolls were right next to our house and the Death Eaters had already hit us once." Like his wife, he paused and looked at his son. "We just can't thank you enough."

"Please, don't worry about it," said Harry. "We both wish that you and your son didn't have to have such a terrible thing happen." Looking at the boy, he asked, "Are you here to have his leg replaced?" The boy looked up hopefully.

"No," said Mrs. Frint sadly. "Skelegro can only do so much. There is too much gone. We are here to get his peg leg fitted. They say it will have to be adjusted until he is grown."

Harry almost drew his wand but then thought of a problem. "I might be able to help," he said. "I have to check on something first, though. Are you going back to Hogsmead tonight?"

"Yes," said Frank. "We will be taking the Knight Bus, unfortunately." He shuddered.

"I know what you mean," agreed Harry. "I would like to invite you and your family to dinner tonight at the Three Broomsticks."

"That is very generous of you Mr. Potter," said Mr. Frint. "We would be honored."

"Thank you," replied Harry. "Are there more members of the Frint family or is this everyone?" he asked.

"Our daughter Laura is with my parents," said Dermine.

"Everyone, including your parents, are invited," said Harry. "Is seven o'clock convenient?"

"I think we will be back by then," said Frank.

"You will be," said Harry. "Dobby."

Dobby appeared at once. "Yes, Harry Potter," he said, as usual.

"Please wait here with the Frints," said Harry. "When they have finished their business, please take them to their home in Hogsmead. Then, go see Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks and reserve a private room for about a dozen or so for seven o'clock tonight. Tell her we would like a nice dinner and I trust her judgement."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Dobby.

"This is my friend, Dobby," he said to the Frints. "He will take you home without having to ride the Knight Bus. He is very good at it. We look forward to seeing you again, tonight."

With that, they both went their separate ways.

"Harry," said Hermione. "What do you have in mind?" She suspected but why the wait?

"I know you know what I have in mind but the growing part is a little confusing," he replied. "I want to check with Professor Sweetwater or, more likely, McGonagall, before I do something that might not work right."

"I think you can leave Honey the hell out of it," said Hermione.

"Professional courtesy, Dear," he said. "She is the Transfiguration professor now and it would be rude to go over her head. Anyway, I plan on double checking with McGonagall, anyway."

They walked at a leisurely pace and reached the half-way point to Grimmauld Place by four o'clock. Since they had plans for that night and things to do, Harry and Hermione ducked behind a park hedge and called for Winky to come take them the rest of the way.

When they arrived at Grimmauld Place, they found Mad-eye and Lupin having a late tea while discussing Order business.

"Good afternoon, Harry; Hermione," said Lupin when they walked in the sitting room. "I'm glad you are fixed up, Harry."

"Potter; Potter," said Mad-eye to the two of them. He was still his old linguistically stingy self.

"Hello, Remus; Mad-eye," said Harry. "Yes, I was just at St. Mungo's. Healer McGoodman did an excellent job on me. I can't wait to get back on my firebolt."

"Oh, yes you can," said Hermione. "If you think you were cured just so you can break your neck on that broom of yours..."

"Now calm down, Hon..., er, Hermione," said Harry. "I promise to be careful. Besides, if I fall off, I can fly anyway, remember?"

The truth was, she had forgotten that fact. There was no way she was going to admit it with witnesses, though. "Fine. Fly your bloody broom but if you break both of your legs, don't come running to me."

Harry thought about that for a moment and then said, "I don't think that would be an option anyway."

Hermione realized what she said and they both started laughing, with Remus joining in. Mad-eye, who hadn't gone running anywhere for quite a while, didn't see what was so funny.

Lupin asked, "So, are you two here for the weekend?"

"We were planning on it but something important came up," replied Hermione. "We just came to grab Grampa and we'll be on our way."

Harry added, "If you two can get to the Three Broomsticks by seven, you can join us for dinner. Ask for the Potter group. Bring Tonks, too, of course."

Mad-eye wasn't sure if he could make it but Lupin agreed and went to change clothes. Harry ran up to Grampa's room. The frame was empty, not surprisingly since no one was around in the house to talk to him and he rejoined Hermione.

"Is there anything else we need here?" he asked. He racked his own mind as she thought for a few seconds.

"I don't think so," she answered.

With a goodby to Winky, they apparated back to the Shrieking Shack, and from there to the Fortress. No one was there so Harry hung the still empty frame on the wall and took them both to their room.

Classes had just ended for the day so Harry and Hermione went to the Transfiguration classroom. Hermione wasn't happy about it but agreed that it would be impolite to go over Sweetwater's head and would give her the opportunity to answer Harry's technical question. What they found when they got there surprised them both.

Professor Sweetwater had her head in her hands and was silently crying. She looked like she had started shortly after her last class had let out because there weren't a lot of tears yet. Harry didn't know if they should leave but Hermione cleared her throat.

Instantly, Sweetwater sat up and tried to dry her eyes. She affected a smile and said, "Yes, Harry; Mrs. Potter. What can I do for you?" She clearly didn't want to discuss her condition.

"You can tell us what the problem is," said Hermione, without missing a beat. "We are the Head Students and have the power to help new teachers with their troubles." She smiled warmly.

"I don't know if I should be talking with you about this," said Sweetwater. She thought about it for a moment and then decided. "Oh, I suppose it would be best with you two. You are closer to my age than any of the professors." She indicated that they should sit down. After they were all comfortable, she said, "I just don't know if I am going to work out here. I don't know if I am good enough at transfiguration to be a competent Professor. The boys can't seem to get used to me and the girls think I am competition. Isn't that silly?"

Hermione held her expression like a statue. When she could control herself, she said, "The boys are teenagers and will only get over your looks when you are as old as McGonagall. Once you gain their respect, however, they will learn from you. As to the girls, once you find a steady boyfriend, which shouldn't be too hard if you are interested, they will lighten up, too. The best advice I can give is to do your job the best that you can and don't worry too much about the rest. As to your competence, I am sure you are qualified or McGonagall would never have hired you."

Sweetwater looked a little calmer but the last comment made her blush. "My first class was with you two and the first task I assigned, a student," she looked at Harry, "did it wandlessly much better than I could with my wand on a good day. You, "this time she glanced at Hermione, "were able to perform every transfiguration flawlessly. I think you both are better at this than I am."

Hermione said, "I don't know if you have heard but this is Harry Potter. If you try to compare your abilities to his, you will not have high self-esteem. Don't worry about it. Believe me, after we ask our question, you will feel even worse."

Harry blushed at this but said, "And my wife was born Hermione Granger. She knows more spells than Dumbledore. She could turn me into a bunny rabbit anytime she felt like it. Just do the best you can and the rest will come. You are very nice, beautiful and quite competent. Don't view these characteristics as liabilities. Just be yourself and it will all work out."

Sweetwater beamed at them. "You are both very nice. Thank you for talking with me. I feel a lot better. Now, what is the question you have?"

"Well, Professor," began Harry.

"Call me Honey," she interrupted.

"Not unless you like carrots," said Hermione, directing her smile to Harry.

"Professor," he began again, "I need to know if there is a way, when conjuring working human limbs that respond to the thoughts of their owners, to have them grow with the body. There is a boy I want to help tonight but so far I have only made an arm for an adult."

Sweetwater turned to Hermione. "You're right. I feel much worse."

An hour later, Professor Sweetwater felt a little better when Headmistress McGonagall admitted that, she too, could not perform the spell. She did know the adaptation and additions necessary to modify the spell to allow it to match the normal leg. A symmetry additive would solve the problem and allow the artificial leg to grow with the rest of the body. McGonagall and Sweetwater both agreed to accompany the Potters to dinner to witness the powerful magic. They both had a professional interest in it. McGonagall said she would arrange for Hagrid to have a thestral-drawn carriage ready at six-thirty to take them to the Three Broomsticks.

Harry and Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower. Ron was reading a quidditch magazine in front of the fire.

"Oy, mate," said Harry as they walked in the room.

Ron watched him approach and, noticing the lack of a cane or limp, jumped up and hugged his best friend. "Looks like you were fixed up pretty well," he said.

"Good as new," agreed Harry. "We are hosting a small army for supper at the Three Broomsticks. Care to join us?"

"Sure," said Ron. "Any chance to get away from having McGonagall breathing down my neck for my table manners. I swear Mom sent her an owl to straighten me up."

"Bad news, Ron," said Hermione, laughing. "McGonagall will be joining us as well as Sweetwater, Lupin, Tonks, maybe Mad-eye, possibly Hagrid and a family of six."

"Sounds like quite a group," said Ron. "What's the occasion?"

"I want to try a new spell out on a boy," said Harry. "He was hurt pretty bad at Hogsmead and if I can pull it off, I can make his life a lot easier."

"Sure, I'll be there," said Ron, realizing that it wasn't a time for bad jokes.

"You can bring someone if you want, Ron," said Hermione. Not being in on the earlier conversation, she didn't realize how insensitive this offer was. Fortunately, Ron was a guy and had a thick skin.

"I think I'll wait and see if Tonks can find a way for me to meet Julie," he said, trying not to make Hermione feel too guilty. He knew she had been otherwise occupied.

"Oops," said Hermione. "Ron, I'm sorry. I was going to check on that for you but I just let it slide. I'll talk to Tonks and we'll come up with something, I promise." She looked pretty upset with herself so Ron let it go.

"Look on the bright side," said Harry, "You'll be able to spend some quality time with our new Transfiguration professor."

"Just don't try to hit on her," suggested Hermione.

"Why not?" asked Ron, curiously.

"Because she is likely to take you up on it," replied Hermione, not kidding at all.

At six-thirty, they all met at the entrance to the castle and started to climb into the carriage. No one mentioned how to dress but with McGonagall coming, it seemed that dress robes would be the standard. Harry, Hermione, Minerva, Honey and Ron all climbed into the carriage with Hagrid taking the usually empty driver's seat on the top. Lupin and Tonks would meet them at the restaurant.

It was a short fifteen minute ride to the Three Broomsticks but Ron, and when he could arrange it, Harry were both entertained by the shapely witch in the moderately low-cut robes sitting next to McGonagall. She smiled brightly and made a little small talk but it was the cobblestone road that provided the main attraction. Every bump and dip had a mesmerizing effect, at least to the two teenage boys. Harry tried not to look but they were staring him in the face, so to speak. Hermione didn't say anything but planned to have a different seating arrangement on the way back.

When they arrived, Harry and Ron climbed out first, then turned and helped the ladies. Harry had the good sense to let Ron assist Sweetwater while he extended his hand to Hermione. They both attempted to help McGonagall at which she demanded to know exactly how old they thought she was.

As a group, with Harry and Hermione in the lead, as the hosts, and Hagrid taking up the rear as the half-giant, they entered the Three Broomsticks. It was it's usual boisterous self until they were noticed. The tavern grew almost quiet as Madam Rosmerta greeted them.

"Good evening, Harry," she said, giving a quick double-handed squeeze to his hands while pulling close. Not quite a hug but close. She then said, "Good evening, everyone." She led them to their private room where Tonks and Remus where both sipping their cocktails.

"What can I get everybody?" she asked. "I know what you want, Hagrid," she added.

"Let me guess," said Harry. "Oak matured mead in a barrel with a handle stuck on the side." Everyone laughed. Hagrid did indeed like his mead. He also had his own mug, if you could call it that. Harry's description might very well be the truth.

Remembering that they were dining with the Headmistress, Harry suggested butterbeer for the students. Ron groused but also knew that was the limit, at least for tonight. Sweetwater, surprisingly, requested just plain water with a peppermint candy thrown it. For someone who looked like a party girl, she was remarkably reserved. McGonagall ordered a large gillywater.

The three elder members of the group greeted Tonks and Remus.

"Good evening, Tonks," said McGonagall. "I don't know if you remember Honey Sweetwater. She was just a first year, I believe when you were in your seventh."

"How do you do, Tonks," said Sweetwater, politely. She extended her hand politely and Tonks took it briefly.

"It's very nice to meet you," replied Tonks. Turning to McGonagall she said, "It's been a lot longer than six years since I was in school, Minerva. You aren't slipping, are you?"

"Not at all, Tonks," replied McGonagall. "Honey has been out of school for, I believe seven years and is just now returning as our new Transfiguration professor."

"Oh," said a surprised Tonks. "I'm sorry. I thought you were here with Ron."

This seemed to surprise both Ron and Honey. They didn't seem to mind, themselves, but both looked at McGonagall. They were, after all, the only ones there without dates, since McGonagall had invited Hagrid.

Before it got even more uncomfortable, the Frinks arrived. Frank and Dermine with their children and what must have been Dermine's parents.

"Good evening," said Harry. "We're glad you could join us. Let me introduce my other friends and then I'll let you all introduce yourselves, if you don't mind."

Walking to each in turn, he said, "This is Headmistress McGonagall. Next to her is Professor Sweetwater. They are the ones I had to check with. I'm sure you've seen Hagrid around even if you don't know him personally. The other tall gentleman is my best friend Ron Weasley. This is my wife, Hermione. You may remember her as the Lady on the Dragon. Oh, and I'm Harry Potter. I was the dragon."

Mr. Frint then introduced his family. "This is my wife, Dermine Frint. I'm her husband, Frank. Dermine's parents are Grilly and Susan McKlusky and these are our two children, Jimmy and Laura."

"Jimmy?" asked Harry. "I didn't make the connection at the hospital. Is that short for James?"

"Yes, it is," replied Dermine. "Why do you ask?"

"That was my father's name," replied Harry. He paused a moment and then said, "Well, we are here for a couple of purposes. I want to celebrate my legs finally working again and, with your permission," he addressed the elder Frints, "I would like to help your son. I can give him a magical leg that will work fairly well. Better than a peg leg, at least. I had to check with the Professor and Headmistress about some details but that should be all worked out."

Frank and Dermine looked at each other. Frank said, "A magical leg? How will it work?"

"It should work like a real leg, for the most part," said Harry. "I had to check on how to get it to grow as he grows and the color might be a little off but otherwise, it should be the same as his real leg. May I do this for him?"

Dermine looked at her husband again and said, "Yes, please."

Harry went to Jimmy and said, "Don't worry. It won't hurt." He picked him up and set him on the edge of the table. "Roll up your pant leg, please, Jimmy."

Jimmy rolled up his pants to where the peg leg met the remainder of his leg. Harry unbuckled the peg leg and set it on the table. To the absolute silence in the room he pulled out his wand and started concentrating. Slowly, a spiral of silver appeared and spun itself into a long bar and then it changed into the appearance of a leg. Harry continued and the color changed to match Jimmy's skin color. Harry attached the leg to Jimmy's stump and then finished with the incantations that McGonagall had told him to allow it to grow with the boy. Harry set Jimmy back on the floor and said, "See how that works, Jimmy."

Jimmy put some pressure on the leg and tried a few steps. Like Harry, he hadn't been moving about much for a few weeks and his other leg had gotten weak. After a minute or so, he started to get the hang of it and he ran around the room like a six year old should.

"It seems to be working OK," said Harry, watching the boy. "If he has any problems, please let me know." He looked up. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Embarrassed, Harry said, "Please don't mention this to anyone. I don't need people thinking I can cure everyone. If you know of anyone that needs an arm or leg, though, please contact Madam Pomfrey at the school and she will get in touch with me."

A sobbing Dermine Frink gave Harry a hug and said, "How can we ever thank you enough? This is a miracle." She gazed at her son, running again, now with his sister chasing him, when she had never thought she would see that sight again.

"Everyone should do what they can to make this a better world," replied Harry. "Do what you can to help those around you and I'll do the same. Now," he said, talking to the room in general, "let's eat."

Author's Note: A "Feel Good" chapter, I admit. We might need it to get through what is coming.

Dad


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26 - Goodbye, Minerva

September 6th, 1997

"Albus, I might have a problem." Minerva McGonagall looked up at the portrait of her long time friend and mentor. She tried to run the school as she saw fit and didn't like to ask for his advice but now she thought that his decades of experience might be of use.

"And what is the nature of this problem, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore. He also had run the school his way but his decades of experience had taught him to seek out other opinions, even if he didn't end up using them.

"Well, I'm not really even sure if I have a problem yet but if I do, it is easier to address sooner than later," she replied.

"I usually don't worry about problems until I am sure they exist, Minerva."

"Let me rephrase that, Albus. I am fairly sure of the situation but I am not sure it is a problem."

"OK," said Dumbledore. "I'll bite. What is the situation you are worried about?"

"I am concerned that Ron Weasley and my new Transfiguration professor, Honey Sweetwater, might have developed feelings for each other."

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Have they been seeing each other outside of class?"

"I believe the first time was last night. Harry and Hermione had asked our, that is Professor Sweetwater and my opinion on adapting the human limb replacement charm for a growing child. He had already invited the child's family to the Three Broomsticks for dinner so that he could perform the charm if it was feasible. He invited Professor Sweetwater and myself along, allowing us to each bring a guest so that we could observe. I invited Hagrid, in case you were wondering."

"I was," said Albus. "An excellent choice. Hagrid always livens up a party. Please continue."

"Well, after the charm was performed, perfectly, I might add, we had a very nice dinner followed by some very good conversations. After the celebration for the boy's recovery had progressed to the level of a party, the problem started to become a possibility. You see the Frints and McKluskys, that is the boy's parents and grandparents, are both married and therefore natural couples. The boy and his sister are both young children and played in the corner with each other; Harry and Hermione are married, of course. Remus and Tonks are engaged and Hagrid and I are very old friends and he was technically my "date", not that anybody would hold us to it. This left Ron and Honey as the unmatched young single members of the group. It should be noted that they had both recently become interested, at least in an abstract sense, in finding someone for themselves. As the couples started to pair off for smaller discussions, it was only natural that they would fill the role of a de facto couple, if only to even the odds. As the night wore on, and the conversations turned lively, interesting and enjoyable, they seemed to be more comfortable in their alliance. Professor Sweetwater is one of those people who are more comfortable calling people by their Christian names and so Ron was addressed as "Ron". Ron, being the youngest of six boys, one of which, Bill, is older than Professor Sweetwater and another, Charley, is the same age, had no inhibitions towards eventually calling her "Honey". By the end of the night, no one, including myself, was paying any attention to this familiarity at all. The example of Remus and Tonks, about a ten year age difference or so, made it even more difficult to see anything wrong in their seven year differential. When they parted at the entrance to the castle, I noticed that Ron had not let go of Professor Sweetwater's hand after he had helped her out of the carriage and she wasn't complaining. If fact, she had just about given him a good night kiss when she caught herself and chose to bid him "pleasant dreams" instead."

"So they had a pleasant evening in each other's company surrounded by old and new friends," summarized Dumbledore. "I guess I fail to see the problem."

"Well, normally, a professor/student relationship would be discouraged in the strongest possible terms," said Minerva. "This case is special for a number of reasons. They were both of age. She would not have any say over his final grades, it being his NEWT year. They don't seem to have entered into this relationship (if indeed they have) on purpose for any school related advantages and it seemed to be more of a friendship than courtship, at least for now. I guess I am asking if it is any of my business in the first place."

Dumbledore thought about this, as best he could as a painting. Finally he said, "I would tend to think that any relationship that develops between them, barring something that leads to favoritism in the classroom, is their business. She can not adjust his NEWT scores, as you have mentioned. He is, in fact, doing a man's work right now and, as such, deserves the right to make his own decisions, as does she. That is my opinion. You are free, as I would be if our roles were reversed, to take it or leave it."

"Thank you, Albus," said Minerva. "I will say nothing unless it develops further. In that case I will only suggest that they be discreet."

Down in the Fortress, Ron, Harry and Hermione had other things on their minds besides Ron's love life. They were discussing the preliminary Death Eater data with Remus and Tonks before planning their Sunday meeting with Slider and the elves. They figured that anyplace that Voldemort considered worth scheduling for reconnaissance once per week or more deserved to have a dedicated map. Besides the ones they already had in place, they would need one for the Ministry of Magic, Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, Number 10 Downing Street, Stonehenge, Dryburgh Abbey, and Souter lighthouse. All together, they would need to monitor 11 maps at all times.

"I guess the first question we need to ask Slider is how many elves can be permanently put on map duty," said Hermione. "I know they don't take days off but they must need to sleep sometime. Is a twelve hour shift too long or too short?"

"Dobby," said Harry. He figured that they didn't need to wait for some of their questions.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby. "What can Dobby be doing?"

"I just have a question or two for you, Dobby," said Harry. "Are you busy?"

"Dobby is preparing lunch for Harry Potter's prisoners, Harry Potter," said Dobby, "but there is plenty of time for that. What questions does Harry Potter need Dobby to be answering?"

"Well, the first question we had was what is the normal number of hours that an average house elf works in a normal day?" asked Harry.

"A house elf will work each day until all work that must be done is finished, Harry Potter."

"That doesn't help, Dobby. We have some jobs that will never be actually done. We just need to know how long each elf doing it can comfortably be at it before another needs to take over."

This was not the sort of question that Dobby, or any other house elf normally would have to consider. Winky, for example would make the meals for the house, clean the house by a schedule, do the dishes and laundry as needed and order supplies as they were required. When all this was done, she would sleep. How could he answer a question that had no answer, in his mind?

"Dobby does not know what to say, Harry Potter," he said sadly. "Perhaps you can be asking the question another way."

Harry thought for a moment but it was Hermione who came up with the answer. Or the question, to be specific.

"Dobby," she asked, "how many hours do you normally work in a day?"

"It changes from day to day, Mistress," said Dobby, starting to get upset at his inability to answer his master's questions.

Harry said, "Let's break it down, Dobby. How many hours did you work yesterday?" This would be a specific question with a specific answer. That should work.

"Yesterday Dobby is waking at five o'clock and preparing breakfast for Harry Potter's prisoners. This is taking Dobby until about seven-thirty to finish. Dobby is then emptying Harry Potter's prisoner's chamber pots. That is taking until eight o'clock. Then Dobby is cleaning the robes of Harry Potter's prisoners. That is..."

"Dobby!" said Ron. "We don't need to know everything you did. When did you get to sleep last night?"

"Dobby is getting to sleep at eleven o'clock last night, Master Ron," said Dobby.

Harry did the math. "An eighteen hour day. I think that twelve would seem like a vacation. Let's use that for a working number until we talk to Slider. Thanks, Dobby."

Dobby bowed and went back to preparing lunch.

Remus said, " So that's twenty-two elves just for the maps. Plus, we will need some for any assault squads that we may be able to form, help for Dobby and other reconnaissance. We might need to hire some additional help after all."

"I don't think so," said Ron. "Harry was right. Twelve hour days to a house elf is like a vacation. If we have twenty-two on map duty, they can rotate three a day to do meals. That wouldn't be much extra. Also, a strike would be a fairly quick operation. The regular Hogwarts elves might be able to just take time off for those. I think if we get twenty-two or so permanent elves, we will be alright."

"Harry," asked Tonks. "What sort of coordination did you have in mind with the Ministry?" Tonks had taken her leave of absence but Scrimgeur had agreed to let her have access to any records and personnel that they might need. That made her the de jure liaison with the Ministry.

"As we said before," said Harry, "if we find out anything that will take innocent lives or do irreparable damage to important sites, we will inform the Ministry and cooperate fully. Our primary purpose, though, is to find the horcruxes. We need to know where these Death Eaters are going and what they are doing or guarding. We will pick up a few at the less used sites for further intelligence but I don't want to tip our hand regarding our resources or motives."

"Fair enough," said Tonks.

"Remus," said Harry. "When can you and the twins have the additional maps ready and the sensor medallions in place?"

"Those maps take a while. Let's see, if we have the materials, we should be able to have them all up and working by the middle of the month."

"You'd better get going on that, then," said Harry. "Do you want a lift to Diagon Alley?"

"No," replied Lupin. "I can get there in about an hour. I know most of the good apparition way-points by now." He grabbed the list of new maps that were needed and headed for the statue.

"I'll go with you," said Tonks, running after her man.

"OK," said Harry. "I'll set up the appointment with the elves with Slider. If they can make it, I'm thinking three o'clock tomorrow afternoon should be convenient. About halfway between lunch and dinner. They should have some time available."

Harry said, "I think I'll talk to Nott, again. I want to find out what makes the Death Eaters so loyal when there is very little in it for them. I want to ask Dougal about that, too." He got up to leave and Hermione started to follow.

"Hermione?" asked Ron. "Can I talk with you a bit?" He looked a little nervous.

"Sure, Ron," she replied. Harry waved and went on his way. "What is it?" she asked, although she thought she knew already. She didn't.

"It's about whether or not I have a chance with a certain woman," he began. He started to blush, his trademark.

"I haven't checked with Tonks or anyone yet on how muggle dating is regulated," she said. "I was hoping to do some of that this weekend."

"Actually," said Ron, "I think I might have someone even harder to date in mind. McGonagall would have my hide if she even suspected what I am thinking about."

Before Hermione could respond or think of a possibility, Grampa spoke up. "As it turns out, Ron, you are in luck. Minerva and I were just discussing your not-so-hidden affection for this young lady. She also believes that the girl feels about the same as you. We talked about the propriety of the situation and came to the conclusion that if no favoritism were evident, you had both of our blessings."

"You must be joking!" exclaimed Ron. "Minerva McGonagall allowing a professor to date a student?"

Hermione had caught up with the conversation just a second before but was still shocked. "You want to date that floozy?"

"She isn't a floozy," said Ron, firing up like Molly. "She is perfectly nice. I had a wonderful time last night and I think she did, too."

He seemed to have strong feelings for her after just the first "date", thought Hermione. Maybe there was something there.

"Minerva thought that she had a good time, as well," said Grampa. "In fact, she thought you only missed a kiss by about a second or so." Grampa's eyes twinkled as they did when love was in the air.

Ron seemed to be pretty shocked by this revelation. He sat there with a smile on his face for about two minutes before it faded quickly. "So what happens, now?" he asked to the room in general.

"Well," said Hermione, "I would start with something that would be innocent but allow the two of you to talk in private." He looked at her as if waiting for a clue. She continued. "It's a nice day. Why don't you meet her on the way to lunch and see if she would like to join you to eat in the courtyard? That would be perfectly acceptable."

Ron brightened up at the suggestion and, noticing it was already after eleven, headed off to find Professor Sweetwater.

Hermione and Grampa both smiled and Hermione went off to find her husband.

"Good news, Nott," said Harry. He had activated the cell sound and was standing just outside the wall.

"Have you come to your senses and decided to release me?" asked the disgruntled Slytherin.

"Not quite," replied Harry. "Your grades will be improving, though." He smiled, knowing this would confuse Nott even more.

"How can my grades improve if I'm not there to do the work?" he asked.

"Millicent is sending up your notes as promised and Hermione has been doing your homework for you. I might have to have Minerva tell the professors to ignore the rapid increase in intelligence."

"So you tell the Headmistress what to do, now, do you?" sneered Nott. His mood had not become more cooperative with time. Quite the opposite.

"Down here I do," answered Harry. "The sooner you realize that it is only me you should be trying to please, the better it will be for you."

"The Dark Lord will crush you and all you hold dear, Potter," said Nott. "I will not betray him."

"Why not, Nott," asked Harry. This was, after all, what he had come to find out. "Why do you maintain your allegiance when there is nothing in it for you?"

"The Dark Lord will reward all who are loyal. I will have riches and power beyond your wildest dreams," he said.

Harry was observing him closely. It looked a little like the effects of the imperious curse but it wasn't quite the same.

"How do you know this?" asked Harry. "There are hundreds of you. How can you all get riches and power?"

"The Dark Lord will take care of those who stand with him," said Nott. "I will not be faithless."

Harry could tell that some of these responses seemed to be built in. Nott hadn't really answered the question. It was just a standard Death Eater loyalty slogan. Maybe there was some sort of mind control. He would have to ask Hermione or Grampa. He then noticed Hermione approaching. He turned off the sound to the cell.

"I think that I might be right," he said as she arrived. "He seems to be a little too loyal for it to be entirely natural. I think that maybe you get a little forced indoctrination when you join."

"Possibly," agreed Hermione. "It must be at least a little voluntary or else Voldemort would just make everyone love him and be done with it."

"Didn't seem to stick with Draco, though," said Harry. "I think I'll...oops!" he said, with a panicked look on his face. "We forgot! Yesterday, we were supposed to stop and see Martha." He pulled his hand over his face.

"We must have forgotten when we met the Frints," said Hermione. "I hope we haven't insulted her too much. We were sort of counting on her help."

"Let's check out with McGonagall and head right over to her house," said Harry and he apparated both of them to her office waiting area.

Harry knocked on the door.

"Come in," said McGonagall.

They opened the door and found she was talking with Professor Sweetwater.

"We were just discussing last night," said McGonagall, indicating they should take a chair. "It was quite unusual, to say the least."

Hermione said, "I realize that, Headmistress. However, Gramp...er, Professor Dumbledore's portrait already told Ron and me of your discussion and I'm afraid Ron is looking for Professor Sweetwater right now."

There was a pregnant pause before McGonagall said, "Actually, Hermione, we were discussing the leg Harry conjured, not...ah, the other subject." She glanced nervously at Sweetwater.

"Great," said Hermione in disgust. "I seem to be in permanent bugger-everything-up mode. We just came to let you know we had to leave for a while to meet someone we were supposed to meet yesterday. We completely forgot until just a few minutes ago."

McGonagall glanced at Sweetwater again and asked, "I assume this is in regards to your other activities?" She didn't want to give too many clues.

"It is at the center of it," said Harry. "We were distracted when we met the Frints and forgot all about seeing Martha."

"I see," said McGonagall. With Sweetwater in the room she decided not to pursue it further. "Well, you had best be off."

"Before you go," asked Sweetwater, "exactly why is Ron looking for me and what do you mean that Professor Dumbledore's portrait told you about some sort of conversation that seems to concern me?"

Well, this is awkward, thought Hermione. She stared at the young professor sitting before her and finally turned to the older one behind her desk for help.

"Albus," said McGonagall to the empty portrait above her desk. Within a few seconds, he peeked around the frame. He seemed to be as embarrassed as the rest of them. "Did you wind yourself running to your other portrait to play matchmaker?"

"It just came up, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "Ron was asking Hermione for advice on how you might react and I had the information he needed and provided it."

Hermione spoke up and said, to Sweetwater, "Ron had a very good time last night. He wasn't sure how or if to proceed and apparently Professor McGonagall had noticed that you seemed to have a good time, too. She had asked for advice from Dumbledore about the same time that Ron was asking for advice from me." Hermione was starting to blush from the personal nature of this conversation. Flustered, she finally said, "The end of the story is that if you found Ron half as interesting as he found you, nobody will get too upset about it."

"Providing discretion is maintained," added McGonagall.

Professor Sweetwater didn't know whether to be embarrassed, insulted or pleased. She finally decided on logical. "You said Ron is looking for me, now?" Hermione nodded. "What, exactly, is he going to do when he finds me?" She tried to remain calm, for now.

"I expect he will summon every last ounce of courage within him to invite you to join him for lunch in the courtyard. He plans on trying to find out if you are interested in pursuing a relationship outside of class."

Sweetwater remained silent for a moment before getting up. "I suppose I had better go find him then, unless the three, or I should say, four of you," she looked at the portrait, "have already picked out the ring." She excused herself and left.

"I don't know what's going on but we have to go, too, Minerva," said Harry. He got up and, taking Hermione's hand, they apparated away.

Hermione, expecting to find herself outside of Martha's house was surprised to be standing in front of Honeydukes.

"Harry," she asked, "what are we doing here?"

"I always heard that when you stand up a girl, you should take her candy and maybe flowers to make it up to her," he said with a shrug.

"That might be a good idea," agreed Hermione. "I think that there is a flower shop around here somewhere." She looked around.

They walked into the store and Hermione picked out a nice box of assorted chocolates. Harry paid the owner and they walked outside to look for the florist.

"Out of bounds, are we, Potter," said a gleefully nasty voice from nearby. It was Filtch. "I don't believe this is a scheduled weekend for students to be off the school grounds."

Six years of being pursued, and sometimes caught, by the grizzled squib had left it's mark. Harry was a little unnerved and tried to think of a suitable excuse. Fortunately, Hermione was nearby.

"We have the permission of the Headmistress to be out of the school, Mr. Filtch," she said. "We have important business to take care of."

Filtch looked at the candy and said, "Oh, yes. Very important, I'm sure. I'll just check with her when I return and you had better be telling the truth." He walked off as if to head to the castle immediately.

"I don't think flowers are that important," said Hermione. "Let's go."

Harry took her hand again and they headed to the East Side of London.

"You're forgiven," said Martha. "Give me the candy." They all laughed and she led them to the sitting room. "I thought something must have come up. You do have that sort of a life."

"I suppose we do," said Harry. "We were planning to come here all along and then we ran into someone at the hospital. It sort of buggered up the rest of the day, but in a good way."

"That's not a problem," said Martha. "Would you like to join me for lunch? You might not have noticed but it is nearly noon."

The truth was, they both knew it was nearing noon but neither had associated that with food. The whole Ron/Honey situation revolved around how their prospective private dinner together went. The fact that eating would be a part of that was entirely secondary.

"We don't want to be a bother," said Hermione.

"No bother at all," said Martha. "I've been earning my keep here by preparing the meals. I have enough extra for a couple of drop-ins."

She escorted them to the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind eating at the kitchen table. It will just be the five of us, today. My nephew is over at his friend's house." She went to the stove and checked on the pots on top.

"We used to always eat in the kitchen at my house," said Harry, remembering the times that he, Sirius, Hermione and whatever Weasleys and other Order members that happened to be there chatted and joked around that table.

"That's good," she said. "It looks like another ten minutes or so. What was it you wanted to talk to me about, anyway."

"We were hoping you might be available to help out at our office," said Harry. "Things are picking up and I was hoping you might have recovered enough to start thinking about a job."

Martha looked at them both. "You need a secretary?" she asked. "I thought you were in the business of destroying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"We are," said Hermione, "and we don't need a secretary per se. We should have about two dozen or so house elves that will be doing that. What we need is someone to supervise them and decide what information is urgent and what can wait."

"Why can't the house elves or one of you do that?" she asked. She was watching the pots and trying to keep up with the conversation at the same time.

"We need to be doing other things," said Harry. "We have a couple of other people that can also come into the office but they are also busy. We decided to try to get the elves to do the time consuming part and just have you or someone like you make decisions. We have found that elves are not always good at deciding what's important and what's not."

"I see," said Martha. She started to set the table. Harry, after years of training at the Dursley's, jumped up to help.

"I would like to see exactly what I am supposed to be doing but I think I could handle it," she said. "Where would this be? The same place we were before?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "We would arrange to have a house elf pick you up and drop you off every day."

"I was sort of hoping to get on my own soon," said Martha. "Where is your office, anyway?"

"It's exact location is a secret but it is within apparating distance from Hogsmead," said Harry, arranging the silverware.

"We are also building some flats for use in an emergency but I think you could use one of those," suggested Hermione.

"Underground?" asked Martha. "I don't know if that would be so nice."

"I am having Dobby put in some windows like they have at the Ministry," said Harry. "It will look like it is outside. A few plants and nice decorations and it should be pretty nice. Of course, you can take a place in Hogsmead if you want."

"I suppose I can take a look at your flats," said Martha. She set the potatoes and corn on the table while Harry pulled the roast from the oven. She walked to the door and shouted, "Dinner is ready!"

Harry took a pitcher of milk out of the icebox while Martha set the rolls on the table. Harry was pouring milk into the glasses when Martha's brother and sister-in-law came in.

"Good afternoon," said Merehammer when he saw the guests. Hermione rose and Harry set down the pitcher and offered his hand.

"Good afternoon, sir," said Harry. "Nice to meet you again." They had met for a hour or so when Harry and Hermione had delivered Martha to them when she was released from the hospital.

"Nice to see you, too, Harry," said Merehammer. "I didn't recognize you at first. Good afternoon, Mrs. Potter." He had read the papers, of course.

"Told you that he was your man," Martha said to Hermione. Hermione blushed and smiled.

"Of course he is," said Sarah. She was the wife of Merehammer and had finished the setting of the table by adding a small vase of flowers.

They sat down to eat.

"It seems that you have recovered from your injuries, Harry," said Sarah. "I don't think I've ever read the papers more thoroughly than I did this week. How on earth did you know that the bridge was being destroyed?"

"I'm afraid that I can't tell you that, Sarah," said Harry. "If Voldemort found...:

Sarah screamed.

"What?" said Harry in alarm. He had his wand out and was looking around.

Hermione said, "You said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name in polite company. I'm sorry, everyone. We use his name among ourselves. It is sometimes hard to remember that most people are not used to it."

Everyone was silent for a moment before starting to eat again. Sarah took a moment longer than the rest.

"I suppose that you will want me to do the same, then?" asked Martha. She didn't look like it was the sort of thing she wanted to do.

"I would like it if you did," agreed Harry. "You could also call him Tom, if that made it any easier."

"Tom?" asked Merehammer.

"His real name is Tom Riddle," said Hermione. "He changed it after he left Hogwarts."

"Actually, he was using it in secret even while he was in school," corrected Harry. "His full name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Marvolo is his grandfather's name. He rearranged the letters to form I am Lord you-know-who."

"Could we change the subject until after dinner, please?" asked Sarah. She was not happy about this conversation at all.

They ate in silence for a minute. Martha came up with another topic. "Why don't you tell me what caused you to forget about me yesterday? I mean, the candy is nice but an explanation is also in order, I believe."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. It would get out eventually, they thought so Harry went ahead. "Again, this should remain just between us, but we ran into a little boy at the hospital. He lost his leg at the attack at Hogsmead a few weeks ago. We invited his family out for dinner and I put on a new leg. He gets around pretty good, now."

"You gave him a new leg?" asked Martha. She, along with the rest of her family, had stopped eating and were looking at him.

"Sure," said Harry. "I saw Vol...I mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named do it for Peter Pettigrew and I found out how to do it a month or so ago. It's not a big deal. He left Peter's hand silver, though. I think it looks better when it is close to skin colored."

Martha ate on in silence. She was trying not to cry. She had been upset when Harry had not shown up when scheduled. Naturally, she wasn't really mad but it did annoy her. To hear the reason for it and the casual way he brushed off the importance shocked her. She came to her decision and decided to tell him.

"I will take the job you offered me, Harry. When do you want me to start?" she asked.

"We're talking with the elves tomorrow and the equipment won't be completely ready for another week or so but we can use your help as soon as you want to start," said Harry. He then had another thought and said, "I don't want to make the same mistake twice so we should set your salary now, if that is OK. Is a thousand galleons a month be enough?"

Again, everyone stopped and stared at him. "Why do you keep doing that?" he asked.

"You keep saying things that stun us, I guess," said Martha. "At my last job, I made three hundred and fifty galleons a month and was glad to get it."

"Well, what I want you to do is more important, and maybe more dangerous, if it got out," said Harry. "I take it that the salary is OK?"

Martha nodded and went back to eating.

After dinner, Harry said, "I'm sorry to ask this in your own house, but could we have a few minutes alone with Martha to tie up some loose ends?"

Merehammer said, "Of course, Harry. I understand that you will be allowing Martha to help you in your work and I am proud of her. We will say nothing about this to anyone, until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is finally defeated." With that, he and his wife left the room.

After they had left, Harry said, "When will you be ready to start your training, Martha?"

"It might take a day or two to pack but I can start whenever you want," she said.

"We will have some time tomorrow night, just to go over the specifics," said Harry. "Could I have you brought over around seven o'clock for an hour or so?"

"I think I could manage that," agreed Martha.

Harry then said, "Winky."

"Yes, Master," said the elf when she appeared a moment later.

"I just found out how hard Dobby is working so I will give this job to you," began Harry. "This is Martha Murphy. She will be working in the Fortress of Solitude. Could you come here tomorrow night at seven o'clock and take her to our office?"

"Yes, Master," said Winky, looking at Martha.

"Thank you, Winky," said Harry. "That's all we needed for now."

Winky left. Harry said, "Thanks for joining us, Martha. We'll see you tomorrow night."

"I'll be there," said Martha.

Harry and Hermione apparated back to their room in the Head's Suite.

They changed back to their regular weekend clothes and went to look for Ron. They both were curious how this totally unexpected development would conclude. After finding the dorm empty, they started to check out Ron's usual haunts.

"I didn't think that Sweetwater was too pleased when she left McGonagall's office," said Hermione. "I don't blame her, myself. She has only been teaching for two days, after all. It would be easy to have just enjoyed the dinner last night, gotten used to teaming up with Ron and almost slip up and give him a kiss goodnight. We all are probably reading more into this than there is. She's going to set him straight and he will be asking about Julie before we know it."

"Or they might be picking out their china pattern," said Harry. He had stopped at a window that looked out on the courtyard and saw Ron and Honey sitting next to each other, chatting away. If he didn't know better, Harry would have thought that Professor Sweetwater was a gushing sixth year, ecstatic over receiving the attention of the star quidditch player.

"I don't believe it," said Hermione. "She's almost sitting in his lap." As she spoke, Sweetwater put her arm around Ron and he reciprocated.

"I'm watching it and I don't believe it either," agreed Harry. "Should I offer them my invisibility cloak?" He was only half kidding. It would only be a matter of time before other students or professors noticed them. They weren't exactly following McGonagall's definition of "discreet".

"I think we should join them," said Hermione. "I'd rather let them use our spare room than get caught out here. I can't believe I just said that." She hung her head as she walked towards a door to the courtyard.

"She has her own suite anyway," said Harry, chuckling.

Hermione glared at him as they approached the new couple. She softened her features as she said, "Hi, Ron; Professor Sweetwater. Did you know that discreet means being careful not to bring attention to yourself?"

Both Ron and Honey blushed at this. "I suppose that is good information to have," said Honey. "How did your trip turn out?"

"You guys went on a trip?" asked Ron. "Why didn't you ask me to come?"

"You were looking for someone when we remembered it," said Harry. "It was Martha." He didn't want to say any more since Honey was there.

"Oh, that's right," said Ron. "I thought you were going to see her yesterday after you finished at the hospital."

"We forgot, alright?" asked Hermione. She normally had a pretty good memory and didn't like being reminded of such an obvious slip up. "She said she would do it."

"That's great," said Ron. "So, what are the specifics? Do we talk to Slider now or what?'

"Excuse us, Professor," said Hermione. "I'm afraid that this is really supposed to be secret. It's not that we don't trust you but even the Headmistress doesn't know much more that you have just heard."

Hermione got up and Harry followed. Ron, however, was very comfortable where he was. It took him a second, but he finally said, "They're right, Honey. We have to do some other things for awhile." Thinking about another subject he said, "Actually, they're right about our lack of discretion, too. We have to do some thinking about how this will move forward."

"Let me do some thinking on that, Ron," said Honey. She looked around guiltily. Harry walked to the back of them and stood nonchalantly with his hands on his hips. This caused him to block a fairly wide area. Hermione caught on and stood the same way in front. Ron and Honey both blushed but got the hint. A quick kiss later and Ron was ready to go.

After a few steps, Hermione said, "Are we going to need a tether?"

Harry asked, "What for?"

"For Ron," she answered. "He seems to be floating on air."

It was true. Ron had not heard or thought anything since his first kiss from Honey.

"I wonder if our record will hold up," asked Harry.

It took Hermione a second to figure this out and she giggled. "I think as long as Ron has to do the asking, it will naturally be a while. If she asked him, he'd say yes in a heartbeat."

Some of the conversation trickled through to Ron's consciousness and he sort of came out of his trance. "I don't have any long term plans, yet," he said. "She is a nice girl that thinks I'm a nice boy and we want to get to know each other a little better. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, Ron," said Hermione. "Just don't rush into anything more serious."

"So we should wait at least nine days before we get married?" asked Ron, poking a little fun at both of his best friends.

"At least," said Harry. They finally made it to the Head's Suite. Harry closed and locked the door.

"Slider," he said, "please come to..."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "What can Slider be doing for you?" The elf was just as efficient as Dobby at arriving in a timely manner.

"Good afternoon, Slider," said Harry. "I would like to schedule that meeting with the other elves we talked about in Headmistress McGonagall's office for whenever would be convenient, hopefully before tomorrow evening, if that would be OK with you."

Slider was having a hard time with this. McGonagall, and even Dumbledore, when he was their master, usually treated them well but they never checked to see if their orders were convenient for the house elves. "What time is Harry Potter wishing to be meeting with us elves?" asked Slider.

"I was thinking that around three in the afternoon would be the best for you since it is halfway between lunch and supper. Another time would work just as well if that doesn't work out for you." replied Harry. He wasn't trying to be hard on Slider, quite the contrary. He knew from his conversation with Dobby that his schedule was far more flexible than any house elf's.

"We will be meeting with Harry Potter and his friends at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon," said Slider. "Where is we to be meeting you?" he asked. He was glad to be moving on to a more concrete discussion. Harry Potter had only to name the place he wanted. Slider would not have to make a decision.

"One moment, please," said Harry. "Dobby."

Dobby appeared instantly and, like Slider, said, "What can Dobby be doing for Harry Potter?"

"I would like you to tell Slider where the Fortress of Solitude is or take him there, if necessary," said Harry. "We will be having a meeting there tomorrow afternoon at three and I need Slider and the other elves to know where it is."

"Slider," said Harry, "The place we are talking about is secret. Only you and the other elves are to know where it is. You cannot tell anyone else about it without permission from me or someone I say is authorized. Do you understand?"

"Slider understands, Harry Potter," said Slider.

"Thank you, Slider," said Harry. "I look forward to our meeting tomorrow."

Slider vanished and Dobby, with a look of permission from Harry, also popped off.

"We need a plan to have Potter leave the castle for at least a few hours, at a time we will know about in advance."

"I understand, my lord. Our spy tells us that he is known to leave from time to time but he has not been able to determine how. There are several entrances into and out of the castle but all that he is aware of are being watched or are blocked. Apparently, there is at least one other."

"I am aware of that. I am not so concerned with how he is making his little journeys as to when. We cannot obtain our target while he is her bodyguard. We also will not be making the same mistake that Lucius made with the mudblood in actually informing Potter of where she is being held. He is much too powerful for that. Without his mistress doing his thinking for him, Potter will collapse like a house of cards. Then, I will deal with what is left."

"Perhaps we should have some of our men waiting for the opportunity to strike. Then, when he leaves, we can act."

"I do not think that would work. My information indicates that he was visiting the Minister recently and walked right up to all three of our operatives and had them arrested. I think that he can sense us, somehow, when we are close to him. We will have to stand clear until we know he is gone."

"The problem is that even when we know he is supposed to be gone for an extended time, such as yesterday, he changes his plans and comes back. He left again last night but she was with him the entire time. He was gone again today but for only fr an hour."

"We need something that will keep him occupied and out of touch for several hours so she will reveal all of her secrets. That is your new assignment, Severus. Find a way."

"Yes, my lord."

"Then, the power behind Harry Potter, maybe even the power behind Dumbledore, will be mine. Very soon we will be saying goodbye to Minerva."

Author's Note: I am not advocating Professor/Student dating. It happens. In this case, neither was looking for it but they were thrown together and liked it. In a normal school, it would be inappropriate but as I explained in the story, Honey doesn't have any control over his final grades and it's not likely he could be tutored any better than the last six years anyway.

Might be a week or so until the next update. I will be on overtime on one of my jobs until next Sunday.

Let's see a review or two.

Dad


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 - We will fight for Harry Potter

September 7th, 1997

"Mr. Potter, we need to talk." The old witch had an expression on her face that didn't give him any clues on whether he was in trouble or sick or suddenly fanciable to her. He had been eating breakfast with Ron and Hermione, just like always when Madam Pomfrey left the staff table to speak to him.

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey," he said. "Should we speak in private or will this be a general conversation?"

"I believe private would be better," she said. "Perhaps in my office in one hour?"

"That will be fine," agreed Harry. "May I bring Ron and Hermione?"

"I suppose they will be fine. Headmistress McGonagall will also be present," she said. With that, she went back to her breakfast, speaking briefly with McGonagall.

"I wonder what that is all about," said Hermione. She could actually think of a couple of reasons. Most likely, they had to have a good cover story about Nott. In order to have someone impersonate him in person, they needed at least a few minutes to get some polyjuice potion and a hair. Ron was their man for this because he could wear his own clothes while being Nott since he was bigger than him in the first place. Baggy clothes only helped the impression that he was seriously ill.

"We'll find out in a hour," said Harry. He had other concerns. They were going to speak to the elves at three o'clock. He needed at least twenty-two of them to man the maps and probably at least two or so to enter the information into the maps. After that, some volunteers for the occasional raid. It should be an interesting meeting.

"Say, Ron," said Hermione. "I'm a little surprised that you are eating with us. Don't you want a little Honey with your toast?"

Harry spit out his coffee when he heard this comment. "Sorry," he said to a drenched Neville. Ginny took out her wand and dried him off. Despite the embarrassment, he chuckled for a good thirty seconds.

"Harry," said Ginny, "it's over between us. Stop spitting on my boyfriend."

Ron got up and signaled to his friends that breakfast was over. With Harry giving Neville another apology, they followed him to the courtyard.

"I think I might have that worked out," he said, conspiratorially. "If I took a walk on the grounds, by myself, after breakfast, lunch or classes, it wouldn't look suspicious, would it?"

"Only to those of us who know how you hate exercise," said Harry.

"And if Honey did the same," continued Ron, not acknowledging the interruption, "That would be fine as well, right?"

"Don't you think people will notice the two of you wandering off at the same time every day?" asked Hermione.

"Not if we don't do it at the same time, Hermione," said Ron, a gleam of genius in his eye. "If sometimes I walk around and sometimes she does, but never together, that wouldn't arouse any suspicions."

"Just among people who studied probability theory," said Hermione. "But what is the point? If you don't take your walks together, how does that help you?"

"Harry, as your best friend for six years, can I ask you for a big favor?" asked Ron.

"Here," said Harry, handing over his invisibility cloak. "Just make sure we can get it if we need it."

"Thanks, Harry," said Ron.

When they arrived at the hospital wing, they noticed that the isolation ward for Nott was darkened and partially covered with curtains. Hermione assumed this would be explained as an effect of the disease and would further discourage visitors from looking too closely.

"Good morning, Harry. Please come in," said McGonagall when she saw them. "Hello, Hermione. You, too, Ron." She waited until they were all seated.

"We need to work out some sort of an arrangement to deal with your generosity, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall. "If you will recall, when you replaced the leg on that boy on Friday, you asked his parents to not mention that you had done it but if anyone needed a limb replaced, to contact Poppy at the school and she would take care of them. At the time, I thought that it would be an occasional thing that we could easily work around. As it turns out, the news spreads pretty fast when a boy who had spent the last three weeks with a peg leg suddenly has a real one and seems to be perfectly fine."

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," said Harry. "I didn't think of that. I don't really know what else I could have done. He was right there in the hospital and I could fix him up. You wouldn't have wanted me to just walk away, would you?"

"Of course not, Harry," said Madam Pomfrey. "We aren't saying that it is anything to regret. The problem is that I currently have four people who have contacted me to have limbs replaced and it has only been two days. I don't think you want to spend the rest of your life at this; at least not until you destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, do you?"

"I see what you mean, Madam Pomfrey," said Harry. "But I couldn't stand to just turn my back on people in need, either."

"You may have to," said Hermione. "We need to be able to move around as freely as we can, you being Harry Potter and all. If you add restoring limbs to your resume, we might as well wave a red flag when we walk around. It's the law of unintended consequences. You did something nice and now you are stuck."

"Perhaps a little misdirection would be helpful," said Ron. He had been thinking about the problem from his own unique perspective and came up with another possibility. "What if it was Madam Pomfrey who did all of the healing. She is not as recognizable as Harry. No offense."

"How does that help?" asked McGonagall. "Poppy would be swamped and have no way of helping anyone. No offense, Poppy."

"Suppose it was very hard to create a magical leg?" asked Hermione. "I suppose that would be true enough. Then she could say that she could only do one per day and then she would have to sleep. That would limit the traffic to a reasonable level and Harry could just stand next to Madam Pomfrey under his invisibility cloak performing the spell while she waved her wand. I think that once a day would still allow you to get to everyone in a reasonable amount of time."

"We'll have to make sure the invisibility cloak is available." said Harry, looking at Ron. Ron looked away and blushed.

"I'm sure I don't want to know why that might be a problem," said McGonagall. "Poppy. Do you think that Mr. Weasley's idea would work?"

"It might. I would be getting the credit for Harry's work but that can't be helped, I guess," she said.

"As many times as you have fixed me up, I think it is only fair," said Harry.

"If we think that that problem is resolved, we have another one to be thinking about. You see, I was also thinking about refining the cover story for Nott," said Hermione. "We really need to have a little warning before anyone can see him."

"I have also been thinking about that," said the nurse. "As was discussed before, I think that a potion will have to be drunk a half hour before he can be seen. You see, he is getting more contagious by the minute. He also needs dim lighting and we aren't sure of the effectiveness of the glass in protecting others. That will give you enough time to prepare and will also discourage the less strong of heart from wanting to see him at all."

"You seem to be pretty good at this sort of thing, Madam Ponfrey," said Harry. "Does our oh-so-proper school nurse have a nefarious past?"

"Nothing that you can prove," said Poppy with a smirk. "Then again, if I were proper enough to report everything I knew or suspected about the students and staff in this school, half of them would be in Azkaban."

Harry had an appointment with Martha that night so they all agreed to start the once-a-day healing sessions with Madam Pomfrey the next night. She would owl the people who already contacted her and make an appointment per day at seven o'clock in the evening. Harry would arrive a little early under his invisibility cloak and perform the actual spell. With any luck at all, no one would ever know the better.

Harry now wanted to speak to Draco, or Dougal as he now kept forcing himself to think. The last thing they needed was to slip up and reveal his true identity. The conversation with Nott only reinforced the opinion that Harry was forming that Voldemort cast some sort of a loyalty spell on his followers. They were just too unwilling to turn on him. Dougal had, though and Harry wanted to know why. There had to be something more than disgust with the way Martha was treated.

They had checked the dorm but, as was the case with their earlier search for Ron, he was not there. Not being familiar with Dougal's habits, they didn't really have a starting place. They did find Ginny and Neville, however.

"Hi, Harry," said Ginny. "How did it go with Pomfrey?" She had overheard the nurse ask for the meeting.

"Oh, that went fine," replied Harry. "Nothing to worry about. Can't think of a suitable cover story about it off the top of my head, though." They all laughed. Ginny and Neville both knew that Harry, Hermione and Ron were involved in something more serious than school right now and so they correctly interpreted his comments to mean that he couldn't discuss it at the moment.

"Have either of you seen Dougal?" asked Hermione. One of the things that they hadn't shared with Neville was the true identity of Dougal. Ginny knew, of course, since she was supposed to be related to him now.

"No, but Luna said she was going to the library," replied Ginny.

"What has that got to do with anything?" asked Ron.

"Everything," replied Ginny and she led Neville away without another word.

"Let's go," said Hermione. She started off.

"Where are we going?" asked Harry.

"To the library, of course," replied his wife. She had a knowing smile on her face that so infuriates men.

"Of course," said Harry, agreeing with her but not having a clue why.

They entered the library and started to look for either Dougal or Luna. You never knew with Luna. She could be researching advanced charms or just browsing the latest horse shoeing techniques. It turned out that they found them both at the same time. Clearly this did not surprise Hermione.

"Hello, Luna. Hi, Dougal," said Harry as he sat down next to them. Hermione and Ron joined them a moment later.

"Hello," replied Luna. She had her usual semi-conscious appearance but she seemed just ever so slightly more focused today. "You three seem to be very serious for such a lovely day."

"Well, we have a lot on our minds," said Harry. For someone who didn't look like she could identify the planet she was on two times out of three, she was sometimes remarkably perceptive. "As a matter of fact, it was Dougal we needed to talk to. Do you mind if we take him away for a little while?" He had caught on to the hint that Ginny had given them.

"As long as he doesn't disappear like Ted," she said. "I like Dougal a lot more, especially the name."

This caught everyone, including Dougal, by surprise. After a very long moment, Dougal said, "You like the name Dougal better than Ted?" He was getting better at understanding her but nobody could claim to be an expert.

"No, silly," she said with a laugh. Then, looking around first to see if anyone else was near, she whispered, "Your other name. I always thought it was excessively harsh."

Hermione gasped. "How in the world did you find out?" she whispered to Luna. She had gotten the reference even if no one else had.

"It was his eyes, of course," replied Luna. "They are much clearer now than they were last year but you can't hide your soul from your eyes."

"We need to go someplace more secure," said Harry. This conversation was more important than the one he originally wanted. If Dougal's disguise could be pierced by Luna, of all people, in a matter of days, they may have to rethink the whole deal.

"I think our office should be suitable," suggested Hermione. Everyone except Luna knew of it's existence and it didn't seem that they could hide anything from her anyway.

With a glance at Ron, who had made the same conclusion, Harry agreed. They left the library and headed back to Gryffindor tower. Except for Luna, they were all Gryffindor's after all and Luna was almost an honorary one. No one would notice.

The party entered the common room and found that it was nearly empty. Only Ginny and Neville were there and it didn't look like they would be coming up for air anytime soon. Ron grimaced at this but held his tongue. Ginny had enough on him to make him pay if he put up a fuss.

"I'll take our guests and you two can come along in a minute," said Harry to Ron and Hermione. He didn't want to give any of their secrets away if he could help it. The specific means to get into the Fortress of Solitude was a big one.

"Please take an arm each," he said to Luna and Dougal. After they had done this, he apparated them both to the office. He made sure to seat them so their backs were to the statue. They were alone since Remus and Tonks were enjoying a well deserved day off together.

Thirty seconds later, Hermione and Ron walked in to join them.

"I like what you've done to the place," said Dougal. "Sort of a pretentious case for one medal, isn't it?"

"It'll look better when the spot lights are installed," said Harry. "I would like to ask you a few questions," he began. Turning to Luna, he said, "I might need to ask you for a few answers, Luna. But let's start with Dougal."

Harry got up and indicated the long hallway towards the snake door. "On the other side of that door, we have a very recently branded Theodore Nott. He joined Voldemort about three weeks ago now and has spent the last five days in our care. That isn't much of a record of service yet he seems convinced that great riches and power await him if he remains loyal. You, on the other hand, did a year's work on a project that benefitted Voldemort very much. You had a father who was the second in command. And yet you turned your back on it all. We even joked about how you didn't have a handle on talking like a Death Eater. I understand your motives for leaving but Nott is a mystery. He has absolutely nothing to gain. In fact, he has some very important information that will kill him if I have to force it out of him. He knows I won't wait long but he still resists. Can you shed some light on why some Death Eaters are so unrealistically devoted and some are not?"

"As a matter of fact, I can," said Dougal. "There is a spell that is usually placed when you first get your dark mark. It is not a loyalty spell, per se, as much as a variation of a confundus spell. It makes the recipient believe that the caster is all powerful and wise. All you have to do is follow his orders and the world will be yours. He does this to keep those that might have second thoughts from considering abandoning him. Even then, he would have to come through with something. For the young recruits, it would usually be women. Martha and those other girls you saved were enough for a confundussed mind to think things were going their way. The drawback is they can't really do much independent thinking. You follow your orders but can't see when they are no longer valid or even logical. If variations or unforseen circumstances come up, you would be lost. For that reason, I was not put under the spell because I had a complicated and open-ended task and had to remain hidden. It would have been a dead giveaway if I had been muttering "the Dark Lord this" or "my Master that" under my breath. When you prove yourself, or when you have been conditioned to respond appropriately, he will lift the spell and you will actually start getting the rewards that he promised."

"You say that you were not put under the spell so that you could work on your project and still blend in?" asked Ron.

"That's right, cousin," said Dougal.

"Then why was it used on Nott?" continued Ron. He was thinking hard now. "He would have been found out within weeks, just from the change of behavior. His dad is a Death Eater, too. Surely, they could trust him as much as you?"

"That might have been the problem," said Dougal. "They trusted me and see where that got them. It also might have depended on his mission. Do you know what they wanted him to do?"

They all paused at this. Finally, Hermione said, "He was to report on how things were at Hogwarts. Then he was to wait for orders and kill the three of us and Ginny."

Again, silence. "It was a suicide mission," said Dougal, shaking his head. "He had no chance of completing it but if he even got one or two of you, even Ginny, it would be worth it to the Dark...to Voldemort." He had to work hard but he managed to not shudder as he said the name. Looking at their confused faces, he said, "I'm through being afraid of him, or his name. It's like my eyes have been opened. Everything he does or is involved with disgusts me. It makes it even worse when I think of how I helped him." Looking directly at Harry, he said, "If you can ever use me to fight him, I'll be there."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was looking into Dougal's eyes and saw the changed Draco that Luna saw so clearly. He didn't know what future he had but it would never involve being a Death Eater again. It was as if he had truly made the most of his chance and shed the bad from Draco and was constructing a whole and better new person; Dougal. He stood and reached out to the man across from him and they sealed the transformation of their relationship with a handshake.

"Thank you, Dougal. I have a better understanding of what I am up against with these clowns. We were wondering why it was so hard to get them to turn. Apparently, the spell won't cause you to fight to the death in a hopeless cause or they wouldn't have surrendered at the Burrow but it is strong enough for Voldemort's purposes."

"I'll check and see what I can find on that sort of a spell and our options at countering it," said Hermione. She went to her desk with the small shelf behind it that held her now forty-thousand plus book library. She had added the entire library from Grimmauld Place to it for easy access. The search feature alone made it worth the trouble. Within a few seconds, she was happily perusing the titles of the books before her, deciding which ones to take out and examine more thoroughly.

"Dougal," asked Harry, "could you stay here a while in case Hermione has some specific questions on that spell?"

"Sure," said Dougal. "I wasn't placed under it but I might know more if asked specific questions."

"Thanks," replied Harry. "Luna. Ron. Would you please join me? I want Luna's impressions of Nott. Ron. Bring a bottle of veritaserum. I want to know more about the specifics and schedule he was to use with his contact and the traitor."

"Traitor?" asked Dougal at once. Even Luna looked up at this news.

"Yes," said Harry. "Nott says there is a traitor at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, at least for him, he has taken an unbreakable vow that prevents him from revealing his name."

"What do you mean when you say it's unfortunate for him?" asked Luna.

"When you break an unbreakable vow, in his case that would be to identify the traitor, you die," said Harry. "I have promised Minerva not to force it out of him for the time being. We would prefer to find out in other ways. If he cooperated just a little, we might figure it out on out own."

"But you don't plan on waiting long, do you?" asked Dougal.

"No," said Harry. "Traitors have caused the deaths of my parents, my godfather and Dumbledore. I won't wait around to see who dies next. We will catch the traitor soon or Nott will give me his name under veritaserum."

"I don't want you to do that, Harry," said Luna. "You would be lowering yourself to Voldemort's level." She was quite aware at the moment, a point not lost on Harry.

"Voldemort kills anyone and everyone to achieve his purposes. Sometimes it is for a specific reason and sometimes it is just to incite terror," said Hermione, looking up from her books and surprising everyone. "A Death Eater has to be expendable if there is no other way to find out who this traitor is. He could betray us all. I hope to find a way to lift that spell. Harry is hoping that your special abilities will somehow help. In the end, though, it will have been Nott's choice to join with Voldemort that will cause his death."

Luna had no reply to this. She just turned back to Harry and said, "Let me see him, then." She got up and Ron followed, first grabbing the required bottle of veritaserum.

Luna sat in the chair across from Nott, just watching him. Nott, for his part, had no choice. Harry had petrified him when he saw he was sitting down and then conjured four chairs from a storage room at Grimmauld Place. It was one of those spells that had always impressed him when Dumbledore or McGonagall had done it. As it turned out, anyone could do the spell once they had enchanted whatever inanimate object that they might want to summon to be available. Dumbledore had done all his furniture since he lived alone. Presumably, McGonagall had done the same but her furniture was far less comfortable. Harry, on the other hand, lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Someone could be sitting in one of his good chairs at any time. It would not be very funny, for them at least, if it suddenly disappeared. He had put a dozen spare dining room chairs and a few assorted tables in an unused bedroom after placing the enchantment upon them. When he had the time, he would buy some nice chairs like Dumbledore always conjured since he preferred their comfort.

For now, however, Nott didn't care. He could only move his head. Luna was actually sitting even more still than Nott. She barely blinked.

"Why have you agreed to murder Harry, Ron and the others?" she asked suddenly. The question and the relative quiet from before caused them all to jump a bit.

Nott regained control quickly and said, "I have not yet been given that order."

"No," agreed Luna, "but you wish you had. You do not understand the delay."

Nott was surprised. He knew he had never said anything of the kind to his jailors. He also knew that Luna was right. "I do not," lied Nott. "I would only have killed them if the Dark Lord wished it. Until then, I was to report on the comings and goings at the school."

"That is true. The question remains the same," said Luna, no longer dreamy at all. "Why did you agree? Why do you want to commit murder?"

"I have and need no other reason than it would please my master," said Nott, defiantly.

"But you have one," said Luna. "Why are you so hesitant? Are you afraid?"

"Afraid of the likes of you lot?" sneered Nott. "I don't have anything to fear. My master will come and save us all." He started to get the usual Death Eater vacant stare.

"You should fear Harry," said Luna. "He has your death in mind, but you can still save yourself." She had sounded almost pleading.

"Just talk," said Nott. "He is too much of a goody-two-shoes to actually do it. His mudblood would be all upset with him."

"She would do it for him, if he asked," said Luna, starting to really get desperate. She did not want Nott to die. "You have to find a way to reveal the traitor without dying. Otherwise, they will force it out of you."

"I will not betray my master," said Nott. "He alone has the power of life and death over me."

"Then answer my question: Why do you want to murder Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny?"

"Because they are all filth," snapped Nott. He knew that lies would do him no good. "Harry and the others caused my father to go to Azkaban. Harry is a half-blood freak who sullied what tainted blood he has by marrying a mudblood. The Weasley's are well known as the biggest bunch of blood traitor's there are. All of them deserve worse than death but that is all I was allowed to attempt."

Luna got up and went to talk to Harry and Ron. "He is only affected by the spell you suspect when threatened with death. It may be true that actually being in danger of dying might overcome that. The rest of his comments were freely given. I am afraid that his soul is quite dark, but not yet black. That would only come, of course, after the murders were completed." Looking now directly at Harry, she said, "I am sorry, Harry. You are possibly right and he may be beyond redemption. May I go now?"

"Of course, Luna," said Harry, "and thanks. We won't force him to name the traitor yet but there is some other information that we need. Do not worry. He will be alive tomorrow."

Harry held Nott's head while Ron put in the required dosage. He then apparated Nott back onto his bed, returned his chairs to Grimmauld Place and left Ron to find out the details of his correspondence with his contact, Artemis Derrick.

Harry and Luna returned to the office. Dougal and Hermione were discussing a passage out of a very old and dusty book in front of her.

"We might have found the spell used on him," said Hermione as they walked in the door. "It looks like it has some of the same effects."

"Does it provide the counter curse?" asked Harry. It might not make any difference with Nott but some of the others might be more cooperative.

"This particular book is a little more interested in cursing and manipulating people than preventing it," said Hermione. "Now that we know what it might be, though, we should be able to come up with some other resources. As you have pointed out, I haven't scratched the surface of my library yet." She went back to her pride and joy while Harry and Luna talked to Dougal.

"Did you have any luck, Luna," asked Dougal. His voice softened quite a bit when addressing her.

"It depends on what you wanted," replied Luna. "We were lucky to find out that spell or no spell, he wanted the Potters and the Weasleys dead." Harry was used to hearing people referring to his parents by calling them "the Potters" but it surprised him to realize, although he knew it of course, that he and Hermione were now "the Potters" as well.

"It turns out that that is lucky for Nott," said Harry. "If we had, or I should say if Hermione had wasted a few days to come up with a counter curse and there was no change, I might have just poured the veritaserum down his throat and asked him. Now, we can spend those days trying something different."

"How would you suggest going about that," asked Dougal.

"Excuse me, Dougal," said Hermione, slightly embarrassed, "and please don't take this wrong but we have probably already gone a lot further with our discussion than we should. I don't mean to imply anything but there are only two people in the castle who have had the dark mark. One is in a cell and the other is you. I don't know if we should be giving you such precise details just yet."

"I love you, Hermione," said Harry, walking over and giving her a kiss. "Remember I said that because I disagree."

"I won't forget," she said. "Don't be afraid to tell me I'm wrong. The couch in our suite is quite comfortable."

"Thank you, honey," he said with a smirk. She scowled at him but held her tongue. "The reason I don't think that Dougal is the traitor or would have anything further to do with Voldemort is I trust Luna. She has cleared his soul and that is about as good a referral as you can get."

"I agree as well," said Grampa. He had been observing almost everything that had been happening.

"I forgot all about you, Grampa," said Harry. "I'm sorry. We should have included you in all of our discussions."

"No, you shouldn't, Harry," said Grampa, a little sadder now. "My advice is less knowledgeable than in the past and I even made plenty of mistakes when I was alive. You have all moved on from depending on my approval for your plans and that is the way it should be. I am gone but you remain. Do not worry overly on what I might have done. If I see a major accident waiting to happen, I will speak up. Otherwise, I will advise when asked. You have surrounded yourself with competent people, Harry. Start to trust them as you trusted me."

"I have and I will," replied Harry. "Without my wife and friends, I would be lost. Together, we will overcome Voldemort and all those who follow him."

"So, friend," asked Dougal, "how do we find this traitor?"

"I have no idea," said Harry. "Somehow, we have to get him to reveal himself."

"All that comes to mind is to get him to try to talk to Nott," said Ron. "Nott is supposed to be his link to Voldemort, right? Everyone thinks that Nott is going to be in the hospital for months so what will he do to get his orders?"

"He might still use Nott," said Hermione. "We left open the illusion of his mail being sent and delivered. If we limit our investigation to those who try to see Nott, we should be able to narrow down our list of suspects pretty quickly."

"Assuming the traitor tries to make contact soon, if at all," countered Ron. "We might have captured Nott too early, not that we would have known that before questioning him. It's too late now but it might have frightened off the traitor from using him. There might be a plan B for just such a circumstance."

"I agree," said Dougal. "My project last year was not the primary attack on Dumbledore. It was just one of many that might succeed. The traitor himself is probably only one part of an overlapping assault on you all. Never think that you only have one problem to watch out for."

"Ron," asked Harry. "Did you get the information you needed to send false messages to Artemis Derrick?"

"Yes," replied Ron. "Other than the month thing, Nott was only supposed to send an owl once per week on the weekends only. We missed this weekend but his illness would be easy enough to check on and would also be a good excuse. The letter should contain information of the activities of the two of you," Ron indicated the Potters, "and me. Any other out of the ordinary happenings would also be discussed. The only reason to send another owl would be in the case of an emergency that couldn't wait. I guess they didn't want too much traffic between them. Nott would only receive an owl when Voldemort or Snape had specific reasons to contact him."

"Harry turned to Hermione. "Did Minerva give you a sample of Nott's handwriting yet?"

"Yes," she said. "An essay from Defense. Idiot doesn't have a clue on how the patronus charm is supposed to work."

"I already told him his grades were going to improve," smirked Harry. "Anyway, Hermione, since you are the best at simulating handwriting, can you have a letter ready to go by tonight? Just a short one explaining the delay and maybe his plans to get some second hand information from Millicent or something like that. Mention that we went to Hogsmead on Friday but he doesn't know why and rumors about us leaving for a while on Saturday that he can't confirm. It has to look real and have some real information or else they will catch on."

"I understand," said Hermione. "I will send a short note tonight and work on a more detailed one for next weekend." She paused and asked, "Exactly how do you know I am the best at impersonating someone else's handwriting?"

"You have corrected and written essay's for Ron and me for six years, dear," said Harry. "I can't even tell my handwriting from your corrections anymore."

"I believe Minerva mentioned it was getting pretty good to me once or twice, as well," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I will give you a clue at making it even harder to tell the difference. When you did Harry and Ron's work, you never had a mistake or smudge or anything. If Nott's essay had any of those, be sure to include some in the letters. It will look more realistic."

"Thanks, Grampa," said Hermione, blushing.

"OK," said Harry. "Our goal for this week, besides getting the elves set up, is to come up with a way to lure the traitor out of his hole. I have to ask. Luna? Dougal? You are as involved with us now as anyone. Do either or both of you wish to back out, knowing that associating with us could possibly lead to your deaths? We will not hold it against either of you if you do so."

Luna and Dougal looked at each other. Dougal said, "I have already pledged myself to the cause. I will do what I can to the best of my abilities."

Luna said, "Well, I'm not quite of age yet but I will still help you, Harry. I think I have already proven that twice." It was true. She had gone to the Ministry of Magic with them to save Sirius and had answered the call the night Dumbledore died. He could count on her when it mattered.

"Thank you," said Harry. "Try to keep your ears open for anything that sounds important. Let's break for lunch." A thought occurred to him. "Just a second, Dougal. Martha will be here tonight." Dougal's head snapped up, suddenly alert. "She will be helping supervise the elves. I'll fill you both in on what they will be doing later. Anyway, she was the one who asked us to find a way to help you. Would you like to see her, again?"

Dougal looked at Harry and almost agreed at once. Then he turned back to Luna and said, "She is someone who helped me out when I needed it the most. I would like you to meet her with me, please."

Luna said, "You don't have to be afraid that I'll be jealous. I would love to meet someone who has been good to you. I can tell she is one of the reason's that you have changed."

"She is the main reason," replied Dougal. "She unknowingly turned me from evil and then forgave me for leaving her to rot in hell. After all that, I guess, she even asked that I be given a second chance. I owe her everything."

This was a bit more emotionally charged than Harry had expected. It made sense, though, when he thought about it. A moment in time and a kind thought can change your life forever. It had certainly changed Dougal's.

After lunch, Harry, Hermione and Ron got together to discuss the specifics of the role that they were going to ask the elves to play. Monitoring the maps was the number one priority, of course, since even the most dedicated human would go nuts in a week if they had to concentrate on watching a mostly blank map in the hope that once in a while, something might happen. House elves, on the other hand, seemed to be able to wait for hours for the chance to help their masters. If they explained just how important this was, they reasoned, it would make it exciting for the elves. The position that Martha would fill had to be approached delicately. Harry wanted it to be clear that he had only the highest regard for house elves but thought that Martha's experience with Death Eaters would make her better for supervisor of the day shift. During the nights and weekends, they would either have Remus, Tonks or one of them (perhaps including Dougal or Luna) at least on call to make decisions.

At a quarter to three, Harry, Hermione and Ron apparated to their office. The elves would be arriving in fifteen minutes. "Dobby," he said. Within two seconds, his paid elf arrived.

"Yes, Harry Potter," he said. "What can Dobby be doing for you?"

"As you know, I am having a meeting with some of the Hogwarts house elves in a few minutes," began Harry. "I was wondering if I should have asked you and Winky to set out some chairs and refreshments or anything."

"House elves seldom sit down, Harry Potter," replied Dobby, "and we is always able to gets something to eat and drink if we is wanting it so it is not important if you is doing it for us, Harry Potter."

"Thank you, Dobby," replied Harry. We will hopefully have several elves on duty all the time in shifts, though. I want them to be happy and comfortable. I know our chairs and tables are too big. We may need to add to the office or build another one. I also want to add anything you might suggest to the Fortress to accommodate their requirements for refreshment or anything else so please get together with Slider after the meeting and make any arrangements necessary."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby, and popped out.

The three of them reviewed their talking points one last time until they were all stunned when what sounded like a thousand elf apparition pops temporarily deafened them. With a look at each other, they left the office to address the elves.

It was a little more difficult to talk to the elves than a regular crowd since you didn't have the usual disturbances. There were no murmurs of other conversations, no creaking of chairs, no distractions as they looked around. Harry estimated that there were approximately one hundred house elves and they were all looking patiently directly at him.

"Good afternoon," he said. He was shocked when about a hundred full voiced responses came his way. A house elf normally would not speak unless spoken to but he had greeted them and they had to respond.

After he calmed down, he continued. "Thank you for coming, today." Again, a hundred "You're welcome, Harry Potter"s. "We have talked to Headmistress McGonagall and she has given us permission to talk to you today. I want you to know that anything we discuss here can not be discussed with or repeated to anyone except among yourselves or to Ron Weasley, Hermione Potter, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Martha Murphy, Slider, Dobby, Winky or myself. I may add others to that list later. Headmistress McGonagall has given permission for any of you who wishes to help us to set aside their Hogwarts duties. Slider will inform us if too many of you volunteer so that the school's high standards will still be able to be met. I also want to make one thing perfectly clear. No one has, is, or will, order you to help us. This is completely voluntary. Do any of you have a question so far?"

Again, a hundred voices responded. Most sounded like "No" but he couldn't be sure. "Please," he said, "only answer if you have a question. Now, does anyone have a question?" This time, there was silence. "Thank you," he said foolishly.

A hundred "You're welcome"s later, he continued. "Specifically, we are fighting Lord Voldemort. The wizards and witches you see in the glass cells around you are Death Eaters. We have captured them and need to keep them here for questioning. This requires that they be fed, their waste removed and their robes cleaned. Dobby has been doing this for a while now but we plan on more prisoners so some help there would be appreciated. We also have some magic maps. Some are done and more will be made. These maps will show us if Death Eaters arrive in a specific area. One map shows Hogwarts, another shows Hogsmead and so on. We figure on eleven of them for now with more later. If you can work a twelve hour shift, that would be two elves per map. That would be twenty-two elves just for map duty. We also have a couple other types of maps. These are where we will put all of the information from the other eleven maps. We will go into more detail on that with the volunteers but it is a little more difficult than just watching one of the other maps. We think that one elf per shift could do it for now with our help, but as the prisoners increase in numbers, that may have to change. The care of the prisoners may be able to be done by a rotating shift of the map readers. If each of you could take turns and make one meal, that would only be about one meal a week. This would free Dobby up for the other tasks. We would let you work that out, of course."

He paused for a moment. "The last task is the most dangerous. We will occasionally need to take prisoners and perform other actions directly against Death Eaters. Dobby has already saved my life from a Death Eater. I know that you are powerful and can do great magic. If any of you wish to accompany us on our missions, I would be only too glad to have you. This could be something that a regular elf that doesn't want to leave their Hogwarts duties could do. It would only be occasional and for just an hour or so, probably. It would be the most dangerous so be warned. Again, you can decide from mission to mission if you wish to participate. No one will ever order you to go. If you have a question, please say so now." He was getting better at phrasing things for elves.

A smallish elf raised her hand. She had seen how the students had done this in classes once and thought it appropriate.

"Yes," said Harry, looking at her. "What is your question?"

"Harry Potter, sir," said the elf, "What is we going to be doing the rest of the time?" Clearly, they were right. A twelve hour day would seem like shirking to the fanatical elves.

"What is your name, please?" asked Harry. He wanted to be polite and set them at ease.

"I am being called Sleepy, Harry Potter, sir," she said.

"Well, Sleepy," began Harry, "as I mentioned, after the twelve hours on the maps, you can take turns helping with a meal. If you have more time and want to be busy, I am sure that there will always be some cleaning or something to be done in the cells or office. We also are building some guest quarters and if some families need to stay there, they will need to be cared for. It will vary but basically, if the work we need is done, you can do whatever else you want."

Now there was a general murmur from the elves. What kind of talk was this? After only working twelve hours, they could decide what they wanted to do?

When the discussions died down, Harry asked again, "Are there any more questions?"

"What is we doing when we is seeing Death Eaters on these maps, Harry Potter, sir?" asked another elf.

"What is your name, please," asked Harry, again.

"I is called Boxer, Harry Potter, sir," said the elf.

"We will have to make a decision at that time, Boxer. Mostly, the location, time and names of the Death Eaters will be put into the two special maps. Sometimes, if the Death Eaters are somewhere dangerous or in a place that we want to keep them out of, we will go get them and bring them here. Martha Murphy, who you don't know, will be here during school days to help decide that and the rest of us will be available the rest of the time."

"Excuse me, Harry Potter, sir," said Boxer, "but I is knowing Miss Martha Murphy. She is being a student here before Harry Potter, sir."

"Oh," said Harry, "I never thought of that. I suppose it makes sense. Well, then she won't be a stranger. Thanks for telling me that, Boxer."

"Harry Potter is most welcome," replied the elf.

"Any more questions?" asked Harry. This time there was no reply. "OK. As I said, the maps are not all done so we only need about ten elves right now. As they are finished, we will add elves. Dobby and Slider will get together when we are done and discuss the map room. It will have elf-sized chairs and tables. If you want anything to make it more pleasant, just let one of them or us know. If you would like to be a map watcher or map writer, please see Hermione over by the statue." Harry watched as Hermione went over to the statue of Slytherin, followed by about thirty elves.

Harry then said, "Those of you who would like to be part of our strike force, that is part of the group that would engage Death Eaters, please stay by the office, here. To the rest of you, thank you for coming." He waited for those not interested to apparate back to the castle. When no one did, he said, "The meeting is over except for those interested in being a part of a Death Eater attack team."

Slider walked forward, "We will all fight for Harry Potter. The Great Harry Potter is being the special student of the Great Albus Dumbledore. Harry Potter is saving Miss Ginny and is destroying the great snake that is hurting and killing students. Harry Potter is driving away the Death Eaters that came to our school. Harry Potter is saving Miss Hermione from Death Eaters. Harry Potter is locking up Death Eaters so they isn't hurting anyone anymore. Harry Potter is saving all the students of Hogwarts. We is fighting for Harry Potter."

Harry was touched. Dobby was loyal to him for freeing him. Winky was loyal because she was the personification of house elfdom. But the rest of them, they were loyal to him because he was loyal to his friends and school. The house elves knew what counted in this world and it wasn't money or power. It was loyalty. He had the loyalty of the lowest of the low and he would take it at bring down the greatest dark lord for a hundred years.

Author's Note: I'm getting worse. Now I can't even get through a whole day in a chapter. Probably could have snuck Martha in but it was a cool place to end.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 - Her name is Hermione

September 7th, 1997

"Hello, Martha," said Harry when Winky brought her to their office. "I don't believe you know everyone. This is Ron Weasley. He is in charge of strategic planning."

"Pleased to meet you, Martha," said Ron as they shook hands.

"This is Luna Lovegood. She is a good friend and sometimes helps us out a great deal."

"I am so glad that you have recovered well enough to help Harry," said Luna. "You deserve to be involved with Voldemort's downfall."

"Thank you," replied Martha, a little shocked that this seemingly gentle blonde could so casually say Voldemort's name and speak of his end. "I intend to do just that."

Moving on, Harry introduced Dougal. "This is Dougal Weasley. You probably remember him with blonde hair and one arm. We took your advice and he is now a student again."

Martha's face lit up. "You're Draco Malfoy?" she asked, astonished. "You look so different."

"That's sort of the point of a disguise," said Dougal, laughing. "I am different, however, and I owe it all to you. Thank you very much." He took her hand and kissed it. This made Martha blush and Luna giggle.

"You've met Hermione, of course," said Harry. "She is the one who knows everything." Everyone laughed. "Winky is our house elf. She runs our house in London and Dobby, who you have also met, is a free elf and proud of it. He took care of getting your clothes at St. Mungo's. He also takes care of this place."

"It's very nice to meet all of you," said Martha. "I know that I am just here to help with the office work but I am glad that I can be of use."

"I am sure you will be," said Harry. "Now, the three of you," he indicated Dougal, Luna and Martha, "are all new to the specifics. I can not reveal the ultimate purpose of what we hope to accomplish because if any of you are captured and Voldemort finds out our plans, it would be bad for us and nearly impossible to complete his defeat. What we need to do, however, is find out as much as we can from Death Eaters. Currently, we have about thirty-four. They have filled up most of our small and medium sized cells. For those who don't know, there are more beyond a large door with stone snakes around it at the end of this hall. No one but Voldemort and me can open it so I will have to show you how to get past it. I have talked to Dumbledore about permanent magical spacial distortions and his instructions will allow us to hold many more prisoners than we do now. We need to get information from as many Death Eaters as we can. That is the main purpose of your work, Martha. We have made arrangements with some of the Hogwarts house elves to watch several maps we have had made that will reveal if a Death Eater is near the place they show. It will be up to you to decide if they are doing day to day activities such as getting information and supplies or if they intend to harm innocent people. If no one is going to get hurt, I would rather keep track of their movements and contacts. Hermione will show you how these maps work and how to put the information into a couple of other maps for viewing. Again, Hogwarts house elves will assist you in doing this. You are basically their supervisor. They will work twelve hour shifts, day and night, but you only need to be here when the rest of us are in school. It is important for us to keep our cover as students so that Voldemort won't find out what we are really up to. Dougal and Luna, of course, are students as well but they will keep an eye and ear open for any interesting information that may come up. At any time, you can have Dobby or Winky find one of the three of us if you have any questions or problems. Normally, if it is not an emergency, please send them only when we are out of class."

"I think that it the hardest part to keep straight," said Martha. "I look around this place and see all of the prisoners you've captured and I remember all the things you have done this summer, including saving me, and it is just hard to think of you sitting in classes."

"We were not planning on being here ourselves," said Hermione. "It was only when this place became available, and the fact that it is within apparating distance from Hogwarts, that we made the decision to attend."

"It was one of our most fortunate decisions," said Ron. "The house elves will be a tremendous help with our project. Even with the limited number of maps and prisoners, it was taking forever to just keep track of everything."

"You keep talking about these maps," said Dougal. "Why don't you show us some of them?"

"That's a good idea," agreed Hermione. She led them into the office. "This is a map of Hogwarts," she began. "As you can see, it currently shows everyone." They looked at the map as she spoke. It was still just a little after seven o'clock so many students were spread throughout the castle. Most, however, had already migrated to their common rooms.

"The other maps are similar to this one," said Ron. "They all mostly have a much larger area to keep track of and have a feature to shrink or enlarge the area displayed so you can close in on anything of interest. This one has small writing but you can see the whole castle at once and make out the names."

"There is one in red," said Luna, pointing at the small dot. Looking closer she said, "It says that it is Theodore Nott. How can that be when we spoke to him just this morning?"

"These maps use a very special characteristic of the dark mark that Death Eaters have on their arms," said Harry. "They are more than signals to join him. It is possible to track anyone with the mark. It is very important that Voldemort never finds out that we know this and can do it. If he does, he will take steps to prevent it from being useful to us, one way or the other."

"We had to put Nott's arm in the school hospital so that he would be detected if any Death Eaters wanted to confirm he was really up there," explained Ron. "You see," he said, mainly to Martha, "we knew that he had joined when he arrived here. Hermione took him down here and removed his arm and locked him up almost immediately. We have since found out that he is working with a traitor so we had to make up that he is very sick and very contagious to keep people from wanting to see him but still have it seem that he is in the school."

"You removed his arm?" asked Martha. Despite the macabre nature of the current discussion, she was getting a much better briefing than expected. With a normal office job, she would have just been told where the spare quills and ink were kept. They didn't hesitate to let her in on the most delicate aspects of what was going on.

"Yes," said Harry. "Didn't you notice that Dougal's arm was gone when you saw him before?"

"Of course," said Martha, "but I thought it was in battle or an accident or something. I didn't think you cut if off on purpose."

"Had to," said Hermione. "As we said, they can be traced. We did save them, however. They are stored somewhere far away and safe. When this is all over, we hope to reattach them."

"But Draco has his arm," said Martha. This was getting weird.

"The name is Dougal, now," said Dougal, "and no I don't." He held up his left arm and showed her that it was a fairly close approximation but definitely not a real arm.

"That's what you did for that boy," said Martha, catching on. "You gave him a new leg yesterday. Just like you gave Dra... Dougal a new arm."

"Yes," said Harry. "I can do that for any of the prisoners that decide to help out. It is a very important bargaining chip."

"What boy?" asked Dougal and Luna almost simultaneously.

"We met a family at the hospital yesterday with a little boy that was hurt at the attack on Hogsmead. He lost his leg so I put a new one on."

Dougal looked at him and said, "Damn, I feel inadequate." Everyone laughed.

"That reminds me," said Hermione. "Harry will be busy every night at seven so don't try to send for him then, if you can help it. Now, about putting the information into these other maps..."

"Just a second," said Dougal. "How does my being inadequate make you remember an appointment that Harry has at seven every night? You aren't talking about..."

"No! She isn't!" shouted Harry. "It has nothing to do with that."

"Nothing to do with what?" asked Luna, innocently. Hermione was in danger of having her cheeks burst into flame.

"OK," said Harry. "Word got out that the little boy had his leg replaced. We had arranged for the story to be that Madam Pomfrey did it. Now she has four people who want to be fixed as well. That will probably go up so in order to put a limit on the amount of time we are spending replacing arms and legs, the story will be that she can only do one per day and the appointments will be at seven at night."

"So you'll spend your days working towards the downfall of Voldemort and your nights restoring people's limbs?" asked Dougal. "Damn, it's getting worse."

"Don't forget he's also Head Boy and quidditch captain," added Ron.

"I didn't get a quidditch badge this year," said Harry. "I thought that you would be captain."

"Don't you have yours from last year?" asked Ron.

"Sure," replied Harry, "but I wasn't planning on being captain again. I don't think I'll have the time." He thought for a moment. "I would like to play seeker, though. I'll check with Minerva and see what she had in mind."

"Fascinating," said Hermione. "Can we get back to the meeting, boys?" she asked, patiently.

"Oh, uh sure," said Harry, humbled. Hermione showed everyone the correct operation of all of the maps and how to enter information. With the written instructions available, they all thought that they could get by.

"Thank you all for being here," said Harry. "For the time being, Luna and Dougal will have to have an elf bring them here and take them back. The entrance for normal apparition is not available to you anyway. That will be the same for you, Martha, until you get set up in your flat. Winky will be glad to take you wherever you want."

Dobby took Dougal and Luna back to the Head's Suite so they could enjoy the rest of the evening. Martha had asked to see the flats that they were building. She thought that staying on site would be the most useful, if not the most relaxing.

The lowest two levels were complete. Although they offered no access at the moment to the Fortress, Harry agreed that a door could be put in since she would be living there. He apparated her in to the closest flat to the office and then went and brought in Ron and Hermione, as well.

The particular unit they were in had no furnishings yet, but was painted and carpeted in a modern style. The windows were similar to those at the Ministry. They showed a view that was somewhere else. Those that should face the office, were offering a panoramic vista of the ocean. The other window look out on some highland moors. It was quite beautiful, if not real. The flat itself had two bedrooms, a sitting room, kitchen, bathroom with oversized tub and a semi-formal dining area.

"This looks very nice," said Martha. "When should it be ready?"

"Dobby," said Harry. Dobby appeared the next second.

"Yes, Harry Potter," he said.

"Martha will be moving into this flat when it is safe for her to do so," said Harry. "We will need a real door put in so she can get to the office. She will need to work with you on purchasing furniture. When would it be possible for her to start to do this?"

"Dobby is thinking that it is safe to be moving in whenever Miss Martha wants," he said. "There is no danger while we is building the rest of the wizard homes. Dobby is putting the door in tomorrow after when he is getting one, Harry Potter."

"Is tomorrow too soon," asked Harry. "Whenever you are ready is fine."

"I can be ready to help pick out furniture tomorrow. When would be a good time, Dobby?"

Dobby had grown used to some limited choices so he was able to answer. "If we can be going after Dobby is done with lunch for the prisoners, Dobby would be happy, Miss Martha. That is being at one o'clock."

"Please pick me up at one, then, Dobby," said Martha, smiling. Then, looking at Harry, she said, "I will be packed and when there is at least a bed and a chair, I will move in."

Dobby took Martha home and Harry took Ron and Hermione back to the Head's Suite. Ron also bid them good night.

"I must be getting old," said Harry, as he sat on their couch. He had been trying to read the Transfiguration textbook to be prepared for class the next day but kept dozing off.

"Why do you think that, dear?" asked Hermione, reading a book on spell reversals. She was intently trying to find a way to counter the artificial loyalty spell that Voldemort casts on his recruits. After experiencing the real thing, neither of them wanted the fake Death Eater version to be able to work against them.

"Because it's only eight-thirty and all I want to do is go to bed," replied Harry. It had been a pretty long day.

"Works for me," said Hermione, excitedly, tossing her book on the floor and springing to her feet.

They only made it to their bedroom doorway when they heard a knock on the suite entrance door. Harry had that "someplace had better be under attack" look so Hermione answered the door. A first year girl was outside in her pajamas. She seemed to have been crying so Hermione invited her in to find out what was the matter.

"Hello, Jasmine," said Hermione. She was always good with names, thought Harry. "I would have thought you would be up in your dorm in bed." She sounded very compassionate and patient as if Jasmine's problem was the most important thing in the world tonight.

"I was," said the little girl, "but I keep having bad dreams about the train." She sobbed a little and Hermione gave her a hug.

"It's not unusual to have dreams for a while when something bad happens, Jasmine," said Hermione. I still have some dreams about bad things that happened when I was younger."

Harry had several instances when Hermione had been in situations that might lead to nightmares flow through his head.

"But I read the paper everyday and no one ever says how he is," sobbed the girl.

"How who is?" asked Hermione.

"The Dragon!" said Jasmine, as if it should have been obvious. "He was hurt real bad stopping the train but the paper only says how well the hurt students and Harry Potter are. I never read anything about how the dragon is. Is he alright?" She was really upset but Harry and Hermione still had to bite their lips to keep from laughing.

"The dragon is fine," said Hermione. "He is as good as new."

"Are you sure?" asked the girl. "Isn't it hard to fix broken dragon bones?" She had a logical sense about her that could probably get really annoying.

"You might not have read the paper carefully enough," said Hermione, gently. "You see, Harry is..."

"I can call the dragon to come to see you," completed Harry, on a whim. "Just go to the fourth floor balcony at the end of the hall by the Charms classroom. Hermione is Head Girl so she can take you. I'll ask the dragon to meet you there so you can see he is just fine."

"Really?" squealed the girl. She was feeling much better now and wanted to run right to the balcony.

"I thought the dragon was tired?" she asked, with a bemused look on her face.

"He hasn't stretched his wings for a while and it's a nice night out so why not?" He smiled at her and motioned her towards the doorway.

"You owe me toast for this, dear," she said as she was dragged off by the eleven-year old.

The next morning, the Gryffindor table was buzzing about the story a first year was telling of going on a dragon ride the previous evening.

"He was so big," said little Jasmine, holding her arms out as wide as she could. "Miss Hermione made a saddle and said I could ride him but I was afraid to go alone so she got to go with me and we went over the towers and down to the lake and all over the forest and you could see the whole castle but I was afraid for part of the time and I had my eyes closed but the dragon was so nice and the ride was so fun that I didn't want it to end but of course it finally did." She inhaled before continuing to her friends.

"Mr. Potter," said McGonagall. She had come down to the table because she had also heard interesting tales of the previous night. "Were you giving out dragon rides last night?"

"Jealous?" asked Hermione, under her breath.

"A little, Hermione," replied McGonagall. "I don't suppose you worried that it might not be prudent to do something like this, Mr. Potter?"

"I would think that if it were not a good idea for the Head Boy to change into a dragon and fly around with the Head Girl and a first year girl, that the administration would have taken steps to write a rule against such an activity, don't you, Headmistress," asked Harry, doing his very best Percy impression.

"I certainly don't remember reading anything about it," added Hermione.

"I suppose you have me there," admitted McGonagall, "but before you do anything so foolhardy again, please take the time to notify me."

"You'll need a sweater at night," said Hermione. "It was colder than we thought it would be."

McGonagall nodded and went back to her chair.

"Hungry, Ron?" asked Ginny. She had been watching him stack up about a half dozen bacon sandwiches.

"A little," admitted Ron. "I fancied a walk around the grounds. Seems like a nice day." He tried to remain nonchalant but was failing miserably at it.

"That sounds like an excellent idea," said Harry, getting up. "We'll join you." Hermione also started to get up.

"No, no, that's alright," said Ron, suddenly panicked. "I have some thinking to do and needed some time alone." He stressed the last word to try to give them a hint.

"I find that I am much less distracted in the library when I try to do some thinking," suggested Hermione, smiling.

"The greenhouses work pretty good for me," added Neville, unknowingly joining in on the teasing of Ron.

Ginny, who had a clue when it came to her nearly transparent brother said, "Why don't we all go and help you find the best place to think, Ron. Goodness knows it's about time you found somewhere."

Ron looked up at the staff table. Honey had already left. Time was running out. If given even ten minutes to plan, Ron could have come up with something better. As time was pressing, he said, "Fine, I'll meet you back here in a minute. I have to go, ah, do ...something...first." He walked out the door as quickly as they had ever seen him move. Harry, Hermione and Ginny all laughed. Neville, seeing that there was probably a joke in there somewhere, laughed with Ginny.

"So," asked Ginny, leaning in, "who is the new lass that my brother is so taken with?" She could see a ton of teasing material if this was done correctly.

"I'm afraid that is his and her business, Ginny," replied Hermione. "They wish to have their relationship kept private for now."

"Why? Is he dating Pansy Parkinson, or something?" asked Ginny.

"No," said Harry, "but it could look bad if it got out. I would suggest that we just drop it. I probably shouldn't have teased him about it but there you are."

Having grown up with six older brothers, Ginny wasn't about to let it drop. But she could bide her time a little. She snuggled a little closer to Neville and they resumed their earlier conversation.

Harry and Hermione finished their breakfast. With Double Transfiguration not starting for another half hour and since it really was a nice morning, they decided to take a walk and discreetly try to see how their friend was doing on his first morning stroll.

They didn't know which way he had gone so they just casually made their way along the outer paths by the side of the castle.

It wasn't long before they caught sight of Honey. She was talking animatedly to herself. Apparently, she was one of those people who would be mute if their arms were tied down. Harry motioned to a large tree that the new couple were approaching and took Hermione's hand. They apparated behind the tree and waited. They seemed to have joined Honey mid-thought.

"and I just couldn't believe my luck. Well, as you can probably imagine, I jumped at the chance."

She nearly did jump when Harry and Hermione stepped out and Harry said, "Good morning, Honey. Nice day for a walk, isn't it."

Honey tried to cover up her recent monologue. "Yes, it is. I suppose you were wondering why I was talking to myself. Well, the reason is...ah..."

Before she could come up with a reason, Hermione said, "We know the reason, Professor. We just wanted to warn you. I had quite a bit of experience a few years ago with talking to someone who was under an invisibility cloak. The key to going unnoticed is to be less animated when in sight of others. Try to hold off on the hand gestures and don't move your head around when speaking to them."

"Was it that obvious?" asked Ron. He didn't take off the cloak but uncovered his face to talk to them.

"We saw you from the castle," said Hermione, indicating the spot they had been, some one hundred yards away.

"Oh," said Honey. "Well, thanks for the tip. We might have to find someplace more hidden for our strolls." She looked at Ron, expecting a suggestion.

It was Hermione, of all people, who had a couple of good ones. "The far side of the greenhouses is fairly secluded," she offered. "If you just wanted some nice conversations, the floor below the top of the Astronomy tower has a nice alcove with a bench. You can hear people come up those steps quite easily."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," said Honey. "Those both sound very nice."

"Call me, Hermione, Honey," said Hermione, magnanimously.

"I think we had better call you Professor," said Harry. "Class starts in five minutes."

"Oh, dear," said Honey, alarmed. "I hate to be late to my own class." She started off.

"Just a minute, Professor," said Harry. He motioned her to join them behind the tree.

"Put away the cloak, Ron," said Harry. When he had done this, Harry said, "Everyone take an arm." Honey looked a little hesitant but complied. With a turn, they were in her class room. She let go and, after Honey shared a quick kiss with Ron, Harry popped the three of them to the end of the queue. "Thanks, Dobby," he said, just in case.

Professor Sweetwater opened the door and the students filed in.

That's interesting, thought The Traitor after they left the grounds. I wonder how long Potter has been able to do that? Explains how I haven't been able to find where he has been getting in and out of the castle, though. He went back inside the castle. He wanted to add this to his note for the Dark Lord when Nott was finally able to send it. He would have to do something about that, too. It would be a week before he could see his other contact again. Better have a nice long report ready.

Transfiguration was one of the funniest nightmares that Harry had ever experienced. It seemed that the two new lovebirds both had a hard time disguising their mutual attraction. Ron, not having had a clue surgically implanted, continued to have Hermione or Harry jab him with their wands whenever he glazed over too far. Fortunately, between the two of them (which was where he literally had to be placed, despite their marital status) they managed to keep him more or less engaged in the class.

Unfortunately, it was a bit more difficult to whack your professor on the back of the head without arousing suspicions. Professor Sweetwater was OK when describing the theory behind today's assignment but when it was time to have the students work on the spell, Honey came out to play. She consciously avoided their table at first, spending some time on the wand movements of Hannah and the pronunciation of the incantation by Seamus. Eventually, however, she had to come over and the presence of her beau caused her to loose about fifty I.Q. points. To be fair, Hermione had experienced the same thing from time to time when she was near Harry but she had plenty to spare. Honey, on the other hand, found herself absent-mindedly giving Ron a neck rub while he waved his wand futilely, all chance of concentration beyond his reach. Hermione finally had to perform the muffliato spell and tell them point blank to back off. She then offered to host the new couple for dinner in their suite so they could discuss again the meaning of the word "discreet". Harry, of course, would have to pick her up after his appointment in the hospital wing.

After class, Hermione once again headed off to her next classroom while Harry and Ron went back to the Fortress. It was still an hour until lunch so they had some time to see how the new help was working out. Martha would not be on duty for a day or so. She was packing now and would meet with Dobby early that afternoon to get some furniture for her flat. Harry noticed that the new door was already installed.

At the moment, they had not built the map observation office so the four elves on duty were using a corner of their office. Hermione had instructed the house elves on how to react when alone. Basically, if there were only two or three Death Eaters, they would just write down where they were, who they were, when they arrived and left and who they talked to. Some exceptions already came up. Any Death Eater besides Nott in the castle would immediately have Harry, Hermione and Ron all summoned. Likewise, the Burrow would have the same level of security. Hogsmead and Diagon Alley were different. It was assumed that Death Eaters would have to frequent those places and they just wanted to see what they were up to. More than four Death Eaters in a single group and they wanted to know about it immediately. Remus and the twins were working on the rest of the maps and it seemed that Tonks was either with him or working on some research on her own, since he hadn't seen her since Saturday morning.

"Hello, everyone," said Harry as he entered the office. The elves all stood and bowed to both him and Ron. "Good morning, Harry Potter. Good morning, Ron Weasley," they said. They then went back to reading their maps. As Harry had suspected, they took any job very seriously. Not wishing to disturb them, Harry walked among them, reading their parchments from over their heads. Not surprisingly, since any other outcome would have been reported instantly, there were no comments on the maps of Hogwarts and the Burrow. Hogsmead, however had a couple of visitors. One had apparated into the Hogs Head and stayed for three hours. Harry didn't recognize the name. The other had apparated just outside of town but in range of the map. He walked through the full length of several streets before walking outside of town and apparating away.

"Ron," said Harry. Ron came over. "A Death Eater came into Hogsmead but he didn't seem to meet anyone or go into any buildings." Harry turned to the elf on duty. "Did this Death Eater do anything besides what you have written here?" he asked.

"No, Harry Potter," said the elf. "I is watching him from the moment he is appearing to when he is gone. He is speaking to no one. He is going in no place."

"That's strange," said Ron. "I wonder what that was all about. He didn't seem to have a reason for being there at all."

"That's what's worrying me," said Harry. "I doubt he did it for the exercise."

They moved on to the map of Diagon Alley. Three Death Eaters were currently on the map with seven total having been there at one point or another.

"These two are going into Borgin and Burkes," said Harry, pointing. He noted the elf was also writing this information down along with their names and the time and date. Very efficient. Unfortunately, the map wouldn't show them what they were discussing. Harry assumed that they weren't picking up Halloween costumes.

"Look at this bloke," said Ron. He was pointing at a lone Death Eater sitting just off of the alley in a nook of some sort. "He seems to be waiting for someone," he added. Indeed. The Death Eater didn't appear to be moving at all. "I wonder who he is waiting for?" asked Ron.

"Let's find out," said Harry. "Give me my cloak for a minute," he said.

"You're going to get him now?" asked Ron, handing over the invisibility cloak.

"Why not? We haven't had a new prisoner since Wednesday. I want some new information." With that he looked back at the map, noting where an area that was not currently populated was located nearby the Death Eater, put on the cloak and was gone.

Knockturn Alley was not widely know for it's charm and hominess. The rat carcasses rotting in the street tended to ruin that sort of an effect. Nevertheless, to the right sort of person, the ambiance was comforting enough. If you only wanted to sit by yourself all day without having anyone check to see if you were alive or dead, Knockturn Alley was ideal. The occasional grunt would keep off those that really did want to see if you were dead, but for their own purposes so Orion Halsfer didn't have a worry in the world. This was, after all, his home turf. He grew up above the burned out ruins of an old apothecary shop that once dealt with items of interest to the darker sorts of wizards. Apparently, one of the customer's was less than satisfied. That was when the shop became burned out and the owner never heard from again. Orion didn't care, though. He had finally made the big time and joined the Death Eaters last year. He almost got to go on the raid at Hogwarts but he had another mission that night and missed all of the fun. Soon, however, he would get his chance. He had been told by the new number two that he would be meeting his contact today. His talents might be needed and Snape wanted him to do some of the advance work. He liked his trade and didn't mind waiting. Soon enough, someone would die.

As he sat alone in the broken front window of another abandoned store, he watched the people go by. Most were like he was, borderline dark and proud of it. Some were just trapped in this alley and some liked it a little too much. The odd apparition pop had become like train whistles to those living near the tracks; you heard them but you didn't. He didn't hear this one, just up the street. He sat there a while longer, but no longer alone. After about five minutes, he heard the word "stupify" and he knew no more. Nobody was watching, but if they had, they would have seen the odd sight of a man sitting in a window suddenly fall asleep and then disappear. On Knockturn Alley, of course, that wasn't anyone else's business.

Harry now sat in the broken window that had formerly been the roost of Orion Halsfer. Harry knew his name because of the map. It identified everyone, after all. In this case, the information was vital since Harry, for the next hour, would look like Halsfer. He had a relative map next to him and was keeping one eye on that and one on the street. So far, the only red names that he saw were those that had entered Borgin and Burkes and Orion Halsfer, himself. Harry had decided to take along Halsfer's arm in case the Death Eaters tried to verify their identities in the same way he did, by magic instead of sight. He had a fake dark mark on his arm but it didn't register on the maps. The real arm might be required.

Halsfer seemed to be waiting for someone, as far as Harry could tell. He knew the name of the man he was impersonating and with the map, he would know the name of anyone who approached. The only thing that he didn't know was how Halsfer talked. Harry doubted he would have the aristocratic drawl of a Malfoy or the refined speech of Percy but was he Cockney, Scottish, general drunk or what? He decided to limit his speech as much as possible if it came up at all.

About forty minutes later, no one had approached. Harry was getting hungry as the hour neared noon. He was about to give up on this particular wild goose chase when a red dot appeared on the map attached to a familiar name. Peter Pettigrew. Harry had to control himself, for now. He wanted to hear what he had to say before he struck the traitor down. Slowly, he calmed. Just as slowly, Pettigrew approached.

"Ori," said Pettigrew, nervously. "Is that you?" Harry had pulled up his cloak to further hide his face.

"Yes, Peter," said Harry. He didn't know if they would call him Peter or Wormtail.

Wormtail handed Harry a folded scrap of parchment. "Got a job for you, Ori. Snape wants you to check out the muggles who live here. Figure out the best way to kill them and make it look like an accident. It will have to fool both the muggles and the aurors. Snape says that he might want to do them one at a time but he isn't sure yet."

Harry put the parchment in his pocket. He then decided that Ori was a little on the quiet side and said nothing.

"Snape wants you ready for either possibility as soon as possible," hissed Pettigrew.

"I understand, Peter," said Harry. "When will I be doing the hit?"

"How should I know?" snapped Pettigrew. "And don't use my real name. You know better than that."

"Sorry, Wormtail," said Harry. "I was just looking for a guess."

"We're still waiting on Nott's brat," said Wormtail. "He was supposed to give us the general situation at Hogwarts but all he's managed to do is get himself locked up in the hospital wing. Had a little info that we already knew from our other source. Potter's coming and going like he owns the place and they can't figure out how."

"How do these muggles figure into Potter?" asked Harry, trying to get some more details on what was going to happen.

"Relatives," said Wormtail. "Killing that oaf and his wife should draw Potter out. Only thing is, when Potter leaves for their house, we have to be sure that his keeper doesn't go with him. Keeping her in Hogwarts was supposed to be Nott's job. Now, who knows how long we'll have to wait for him to get back in action."

"Maybe it would be better if she did go along," said Harry. "Get them both at once.

"That's what Malfoy wanted and look what happened," barked Peter. "The Dark Lord says that we have to get her alone, wring her for what information we can and kill her quick before Potter finds out and can save her. Without her running the show, he'll be nothing."

"We're killing her?" asked Harry. "I thought we wanted Potter?"

"Eventually," said Peter. "Right now, Snape is more interested in crippling his plans. That means we find out from her what they are so Potter'll have to come up with something on his own"

"How can they make sure she doesn't come along anyway?" asked Harry.

"Any way they can," said Peter. "Once Potter leaves, we need to get her near the forest. Our spy may have to figure out a way to do that if Nott is still out. Could drag her there if he has to, I suppose." Wormtail laughed at his joke.

"Then we get her," said Harry, understanding. "Why the hesitation to use the spy?" Harry was hoping for news from the traitor.

"Too useful, of course," said Wormtail. "Nott's time would be up after he exposed himself and Snape planned on letting him loose on the other brats. Our real agent, however, will be of more use. Once the place comes crashing down on Potter, he'll make it worse. With any luck at all, the Dark Lord will have his head by the end of the month."

So when do we meet, again," asked Harry. He was running out of his hour.

"Next Monday at noon," said Wormtail. "At the trolley, this time. Nott's kid could be out of the hospital by then. We'll know this weekend if he can send another report."

"Let's hope so," said Harry. "I'll be there at noon, in any case."

"You'd better or Snape'll have your hide," said Wormtail. With that, he shuffled off. Harry had started to turn back into himself so he waited for the transformation to complete. He didn't want to be distracted. A moment later, the window was once again vacant.

"You'd have thought they would have learned their lesson the last time they kidnaped Hermione," said Ron. He was thinking of the twenty-six Death Eaters who had paid the price for her first capture.

"They did," said Hermione. "This time, they just get what they can out of me and kill me. They also won't be informing you of where to come rescue me." She seemed to be remarkably calm to learn that she was, once again, their prime target.

"I don't get it, though," said Harry. "Sure, I love you and all but to think that you do all of the planning for everything. Most of it, maybe, but not all."

"I don't understand it, either," said Ron. "Are you sure you weren't spotted? Maybe it was a set up of some sort."

"That quickly?" asked Harry. "We had him bobbed and I was back in that window in under ten minutes. No, they really think that without Hermione, we would fold. They're willing to bet my uncle's life on it." He held the scrap of paper with just one address; Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

"They want Nott to prevent you from going with Harry and then somehow get you down to the Forbidden Forest. I suppose, they plan on capturing you there," said Harry. "How can we use this to our advantage?'

"We could capture Umbridge, pour polyjuice down her throat and let them capture her," suggested Ron. "That would serve them all right."

"Don't tempt me," said Hermione. She had decided that the best course of action she could take when she found out about the blood quill was to not do anything. That was why Umbridge still lived.

"I hate to say it," said Harry, "I mean I really hate to say it, but we have to get the Dursley's to safety." He held his Aunt's family in about as little regard as was humanly possible, but he didn't want to see them killed.

"Your cousin is still in school, I suppose," said Hermione. "He will probably be safe there but your aunt and uncle are in danger. The house is probably being watched so we can't move them yet."

"I'll put a pair of elves in my old room with a relative map," said Harry. "If the Death Eaters try to get in, they could pull them out in two seconds. Otherwise, they stay as they are. We might not get another golden opportunity to get Wormtail and Snape."

"We'll work on it tonight," said Hermione. "We already missed lunch. It's double Defense now."

They apparated to the Heads Suite and walked to the Defense classroom. Walking to class; how novel, thought Harry.

Harry and Hermione had missed the first Defense class, being excused to have Harry's legs mended. Ron, however, had experienced the style of the middle-aged ex-auror. He had more bits still attached, but he was still from the same mold as Moody.

Professor Hammer Coldiron was a prototypical aging auror. He wasn't quite as agile as he used to be but he was competent enough to get older. Like most aurors who didn't advance into other areas of the Ministry, he had moved on in his fifties to another career. The kids could burst down a dark alley, a wand blazing curses in each hand. The older set had different priorities. It seemed the older you got in this business, the older you wanted to get. Around fifty, you start to examine the shape that those aurors who are even older than you are in (such as Mad-eye) and you decide to retire to the quiet life.

"Good afternoon, class," said Professor Coldiron. "I see you are fit to join us today, Mr. Potter," he added, noticing Harry. "Excellent." He took roll and proceeded to start class. "This is our first two hour lesson in the seventh year NEWT class," he began. "All double Defense lessons will be practical. Today's lesson will be used throughout the year. It will address the importance of teamwork when engaged in an attack. A team is generally much better at surviving an attack from multiple assailants than a group of wizards operating individually. Who can tell me why?"

Besides Hermione, only Ron and Harry raised their hands. Not having had six years experience with Hermione, Coldiron called on her. "Yes, my dear," he said. "Let us have your answer."

"Yes, Professor, "began Hermione. "A properly trained team already has divided and practiced their roll in any upcoming battle. Each member is able to concentrate on their offensive or defensive spells while trusting the others in the group to take care of their own responsibilities."

"Correct, Miss Potter," said Coldiron. "Now, we have eight Gryffindors, four Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws and three Slytherins. Let's divide the Gryffindors into two teams, three boys and a girl each, the Hufflepuffs will be a team and the Ravenclaws and Slytherins can be a team of five. I will give you twenty minutes to get to the South practice field and discuss and practice your strategy. This would be about nineteen and a half more minutes than you would have in real life. At the end of that time, using no offensive spell worse than a stunner or expelliarmus, we will pair up the team with the tallest member against the remaining team with the shortest. They will then start one hundred yards apart. The attacking team will be the tall team and they will have five minutes to disarm or otherwise disable the short team. We will then have the other two teams perform the same exercise. The teams will then be shuffled with each team performing the opposite function with a different team. If you win both competitions, you are able to manage your team abilities well. If you win one or the other, that would be about average. If you lose both, you will be studying combat techniques until you are black and blue. Your twenty minutes starts now."

Harry, Ron and Hermione instantly found themselves surrounded by Neville, Dean and Seamus. Lavender knew that Harry and Ron would never give up Hermione. Thinking quickly, Harry grabbed Dougal. This surprised everyone, Dougal included. "I don't think we can take Neville. It wouldn't be fair to have all four of us battle tested," he said to Ron and Hermione, but loud enough for the insecure Neville to hear. He beamed at Harry and joined the opposing group. Dougal, who was also battle tested, but on the wrong side, walked down with Harry and his crew.

In a move that would surprise everyone except those on his team, Ron assumed command. This was a battle; his forte. He would devise the plan that would bring down the other teams. He was the tallest student, only slightly edging out Dean. The shortest was harder to tell. It was like trying to figure out who the shortest of the seven dwarves was. Hannah and Lavender were both just barely on the high side of five feet but it was Millicent who would be wet last if it rained.

As they walked down, Ron assigned his soldiers. "Hermione; you will be defensive and illusion spells. Dougal; quick and short spells just to disorient them. Harry; do that rock wall thing behind them and I'll bounce some stunners off of it. When they start getting hit from behind, wait for my command and then a synchronized expelliarmus should do it. Unless you want to stun them first."

"I think that a quick victory without rubbing it in would be best," said Hermione.

"I'll split the difference," said Harry. "If they hit any of us with a stunner, they all go down. Otherwise, we do it Miss Goody-Two-Shoes' way."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and they prepared their attack. Coldiron held his stopwatch in his right hand and put a whistle to his mouth. He started the contest with a blast on his whistle.

The Ravenclaws were trickier than expected. They anticipated a blanket spell and quickly spread out into two units. Each had one of the Ravenclaw boys casting the offensive spells while the Slytherin girls defended. Hermione was able to easily counter their stunners and their expelliarmus' were much too weak at this distance. Dougal cast some quick solarus flare charms at each group, temporarily blinding them. Ron tried some stunners but the girls knew enough to cast general shield spells when in doubt. Harry raised his wand and with two quick flicks, had summoned identical semi-circular walls behind the two defending parties. Ron started to blast the rock behind them, causing them to cover their heads from the debris. This was the opportunity Ron was waiting for. "Now!" he shouted and four expelliarmus' later, four wands were in their hands.

Professor Coldiron looked on with an expression that clearly stated that he should have known. He had heard enough reports from the trap at the Burrow from his old friends to realize what Harry Potter was capable of. Until now, he had sort of thought it was just hype. Not anymore. "Very good, Gryffindors," he said out loud. "Thanks for not incinerating them, Potter," he added under his breath.

By virtue of Dean, the second Gryffindor group was also the attacker. They had watched the first match and decided that extracting a wall of rock would be a little beyond their means, used a different tactic on the Hufflepuffs. Neville cast low stunners that skipped off the ground just in front of the defenders. Dean used his height advantage to cast expelliarmus' over the tops of the lowered defenses. Lavender cast a surprising number of reflecting shields while Seamus surprised everyone with his ability to transfigure the clumps of dirt and grass in front of the Hufflepuff women into mice. This caused them to loose concentration and ultimately, the match.

Neville's group then had to defend against the Ravenclaw/Slytherin team. They used the Gryffindor chivalry against them by putting the Slytherin women in front. Lavender had no problem hexing them but the boys had never liked to pick on girls. Therefore, the boys behind the girls, who were smart enough to count on this, managed to frustrate them to the point of making an error. One was enough and the B team went down.

Before Harry's group started, Coldiron stopped the action. "All right, Potter. No huge walls this time. Dig a hole if you want to hide." He blew his whistle.

Hermione said, "Sounds good to me, Harry. Give us a trench."

Harry cast a twenty second reducto about ten feet in front of them in a sweeping arc while Hermione and the others blocked the spells. They jumped in and were able to use the cover and surprise to all fire stunners at once. The Hufflepuffs never had a chance.

Coldiron walked over and enervated his students. When they were recovered, Coldiron said, "What is the most important thing we have learned here today?"

Before Hermione could raise her hand and give the correct answer regarding teamwork and training, Anthony Goldstein came up with the true answer on their minds and said, "Don't get Harry mad at you."

Harry and two house elves arrived in the Dursley's kitchen with a short series of pops. Petunia managed to just catch her mixing bowl before it hit the floor and Vernon was not home yet so he didn't hit the roof.

"Good afternoon, Aunt Petuntia," said Harry as he sat down at the table. He quickly spread out the relative map he had brought and sighed with relief when it showed no Death Eaters within two hundred yards of the house.

"What in the world are those horrid things doing in my kitchen?" asked Petunia in her whiniest voice. Clearly, she had not mellowed since Harry had last spoken with her.

"They are volunteer house elves whose job is to keep you and Uncle Vernon alive for a while longer," said Harry, without looking up. He rolled up the map and started to walk towards his old bedroom.

"Where are you taking them?" asked Petunia, getting more than a little rattled.

"Up to my old room," replied Harry. "They will be staying here, guarding you for the next few weeks."

"They will, will they?" said Petunia in her best Vernon impersonation.

Harry stopped. "Only until you or Uncle Vernon order them to leave. Then, you will be on your own. I came early so Uncle Vernon would not be here. You have always been the brains of this house, such as it is." He continued out to the stairs, talking as he walked. The elves and Aunt Petunia followed. "If the people who want you dead think you are on to them, you will be killed immediately. As it turns out, they want you dead at a specific time. I have uncovered this fact and you will be made safe when the time comes. These elves can evacuate you both in just a few seconds, if necessary. Don't tell Uncle Vernon about them or he'll blow your cover. I would lock them in my room, if I were you. They can get in and out on their own and that will prevent any unfortunate confrontations." Harry opened the door and the elves went in to set up the map.

"Why don't we leave now, if it is so dangerous?" asked Petunia. It was a logical question with a cold answer.

"Because I need you as bait," said Harry. "These people want to kill more than just you. Last month, they tried to kill about four hundred school children. If we do this right, we might catch a lot of them. You will be kept completely safe, in any event. The elves will see to that; unless you order them to leave."

"Who are they and why would they want to kill us?" Aunt Petunia was understandably getting upset and not just a little hysterical.

"They think that I would come to save you," said Harry. "At the very least, they think I would come to bury you. As I said, I have uncovered their plans and unless you, or more likely, Uncle Vernon, do something completely stupid like try to run or send away your guards, you will remain safe. I have quarters for the two of you. If Dudley is under their surveillance, which I doubt, he would be removed from harm as well. I will have elves monitoring his school."

Aunt Petunia sat on the edge of the bed. This was a big shock and she didn't like big shocks. The ramifications of what Harry was saying were starting to sink in. They would have to leave their house. Vernon could not return to work. Their entire life would be left behind in order to save their lives. She started to cry. Harry looked at her. He did not feel pity. He actually felt that there was some justice in the world, after all.

"I have to go now but I will be in touch," he said to his weeping aunt. "You will forgive me if I don't try to comfort you. When I arrived here as a baby, did you comfort me when I cried for my dead mother or did you store me under the stairs? You are only going to lose some of your nice things. Someday, you might be able to return and pick up where you left off. Until then, I will provide a very nice place to live and complete security. "

Petunia looked up quickly and Harry could see it in her eyes that it was not entirely her choice. Uncle Vernon had always been his antagonist, along with his protege, Dudley. She couldn't form the words to an apology, though.

"Don't worry," said Harry. "If I was seeking revenge, the elves would not be in my room. I have to go now. My wife and I are hosting another couple for dinner tonight. I will be in touch when more is known. Remember; you are safe as long as the elves are here." With that he prepared to leave but Petunia stopped him.

"What's her name?" she asked. "Your wife. What's her name, Harry?" It was perhaps the first normal, friendly question that she had ever asked him.

Harry was shocked for a moment but then said, "Her name is Hermione. We were married last month." He didn't really know what else to say or even if he wanted to say anything. He walked out of the room before she could speak and apparated back to their suite.

At a quarter to seven, Harry put on his cloak and apparated to Madam Pomfrey's office. She heard the pop and said, "Hello, Harry. They are not here, yet. We can talk for a minute."

Harry pulled off the cloak and said, "Good evening, Madam Pomfrey. What will we be doing tonight?" He wanted to know if he would be making an arm or a leg and for who.

"First, since you will be coming up on a regular basis to perform medicinal magic that I can only dream of, you will be calling me Poppy. After that, I will be waving my wand and you will be helping a young witch. She was a student here a few years ago. You might remember her; Penelope Clearwater. Another Hogsmead casualty. When she was here, she was the girlfriend of Percy Weasley. They must still be together because he was the one who owled me. Apparently, Penelope was visiting relatives when the attack took place. Poor girl was trapped in a burning building. Very bad injuries. I took her first because she is having a hard time getting around without her legs. Please wait to do anything until I examine her. I may have to trim some bad spots a bit to get clear of any nerve or burn damage."

Harry was nearly in shock. He knew her! At least he had met her. He had begun to fear that his nightly visits might turn into a burden and the first person through the door is someone he knows. He then thought that everyone who comes for help is someone that someone knows. He should treat them all with compassion.

"Harry," said Poppy, "I have a question that may sound strange or even unkind but years of experience has led me to be prepared. Many of the people who come to see us will be in dire straights. It may have been years since they have walked or written a letter or been able to take care of themselves. They will want to do something. Many will offer money; sometimes all that they have. You see, the service you are providing is nearly miraculous. It is important that we let them do something in return. They will not feel right to just say "thanks." Have you any preferences on how to handle this?" She sat back. Unless she missed her guess, Harry had not even considered taking money for what he was doing. She knew he had plenty, anyway; a look at Hermione's ring proved that. She also knew that if he didn't have a galleon to his name, he would never want to take money for helping people. It was just the way he was.

After a little while, Harry said, "I suppose that we could charge ten galleons to those who can afford it," said Harry. "Then, if anyone wanted to give more, have them give whatever they wanted to a charity that could use it."

"Ten galleons?" asked the nurse. "How did you come up with that figure?"

"I thought that we could put it towards your retirement fund," he suggested. "You are spending a lot of time with the owls and all. It would only be fair."

Before she could answer, they heard careful footsteps coming up the stairs. Harry quickly put the cloak back over his head. Poppy went out to meet her first patients. Harry followed, invisibly.

They saw a levitated wheelchair being set back on the floor outside the door. Penelope was pushed into the hospital ward by none other than Percy Weasley. She didn't look at all like the perky young girl he remembered. Her hair was very short now. Her face and neck had red marks on them that were probably the last traces of her burns. The big difference, however, were her arms and legs. One arm looked to be mostly healed while the other had a hand that was missing three fingers. The rest of the arm was covered in similar red marks like those she had on her face. Her legs were covered with a small blanket. Although he could see nothing yet, Harry could tell that neither went to the floor.

Percy had been through another type of hell. He had the face of someone who hadn't had a lot of good luck lately. He was the pariah of the Weasleys because of his past behavior. To have this happen to his girlfriend without even having his family for support must have been terrible. Percy saw Poppy come towards them and he broke out in a smile. Clearly, Penelope's problems were his first concern right now..

"Hello, Penelope. Hello, Percy," said Poppy. "I'm glad you could make it." She stooped to examine Penelope's hand. "What have your doctors said about your fingers?" she asked. "Do they think they can restore them?

"No," said Penelope. "It's the nerves, of course, that are the problem. They can regrow the skin and bones but without nerves, what's the point?"

"That's too bad," said Poppy. "I suppose it's the same for the legs?" She lifted the blanket to reveal where the remains of her legs were amputated.

"Yes," replied Penelope. "We were told by my cousins that a boy near their house had his leg restored by you. We, ah..." She stopped; tears flowing down her cheeks.

"We were hoping that maybe you could help Penelope, too," said Percy.

Poppy looked over the young couple and smiled. It was a routine part of the medical profession to have to tell a once healthy person that their life as they had known it, was over. Catastrophic injuries and illnesses happened to good and bad alike. It was a good change of pace to tell someone who was staring at life in a wheelchair that you could make them whole again. "Of course I can help you," she said. "That's what I'm here for."

"I hope so, Madam Pomfrey," said Penelope. "I have only been in this chair for a little over a month and already I hate it. I do have to ask, though, how much will this cost?" She lowered her voice at the end.

"Penelope!" said Percy, from behind her. "I told you, whatever it costs, it will be worth it. We still have some savings left."

"Not much, we don't," she said, getting upset. "You spent it all on the hospital bill. I told you I could have done with less skin repair."

Before they could speak, Poppy said, "The normal price is ten galleons but if that is too high, you don't have to pay."

"Ten galleons?" asked Percy. "But they charged us two hundred just to put her in this chair. And the other bills were much more than that."

"If you want to pay more, please send it to a worthy charity," said Poppy. "Now, let's begin. Do you have any nerve pain near the stumps?

"No," replied Penelope. "They already asked me that before they cut off ..." She looked down and indicated her missing legs.

"OK, then," said Poppy. She pulled out her wand and waved it around. Slowly, a silver shaft appeared which transformed into the shape of a long and shapely leg. After it changed into a soft pink color, it lowered down near the left stump.

"Oops," said Madam Pomfrey, loudly, "I almost put it on the wrong side." The leg stopped and hovered for a second before moving over to the right stump and attached itself. The process was repeated for the left leg. She then moved up to Penelope's hand and very quickly, three fingers attached themselves to her burned hand.

"There," said Madam Pomfrey, "try to stand up, Penelope."

Penelope stood up and took a few tentative steps. At first, it was like a newborn giraffe. She wobbled around quite a bit. After a few more steps, she was smiling and laughing and crying all at once.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," said Penelope. "I can't believe it. You are amazing." She danced around the room, examining her new fingers, as well.

"Yes, you certainly are," agreed Percy. He had tears in his eyes, as well. He watched Penelope bouncing around the room for a full minute. Finally, he reached into his robes and withdrew his money purse. It looked a little smaller than most and he pulled out eight galleons and started to make up the rest with silver when she stopped him.

"You have spent enough already," she said, giving him back his galleons. "I don't need it."

"I have to do something," said Percy. "We were afraid she would be in that chair forever. I can't thank you enough." He was still in tears. This was a very un-Percy type moment. "There must be something I can do."

"Yes, there is," said Harry, coming out from under his cloak.

Percy looked in astonishment as Harry put his wand away. Madam Pomfrey smiled and left them to talk to Penelope.

"Were you here the whole time?" asked Percy, not yet putting two and two together.

"Yes," said Harry. "I have to be. I fixed Penelope but don't tell anyone. If you want to do something, help me get an image out of my head. It is one I saw last month and it has troubled me deeply. It is of your mother crying because you aren't with her. She misses you terribly. You can make it good with me on Penelope's legs if you use yours and walk back to your mother. Your family will welcome you back, Percy. They have to, because, well, because you're family."

Percy smiled at this and then, looking at Penelope once again, he nodded his head. "I have been a fool, Harry. My pride has kept me away from my family for far too long. I will take Penelope there tonight. It is high time that my mother met my wife."

"Your wife?" asked Harry. "That's great, Percy. I'm married now, too."

"I think I might have seen the announcement," said Percy, laughing. There had been a small explosion of sales of the Quibbler when Harry and Hermione's wedding edition came out. As was the case with the Return of Voldemort edition, the Daily Prophet bought the rights to this story, too, and the Lovegoods would get at least two expeditions out of the deal.

"I suppose so," said Harry. "By the way, I mean it. Don't tell anyone that it wasn't Madam Pomfrey that fixed up Penelope. I really don't want that to get out."

"I promise," said Percy. "And Harry?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Thanks." Percy went to be with his wife, who was talking with Poppy, and Harry quietly left the hospital wing. Poppy was wrong. Sometimes they do just need to say "Thanks."

Author's Notes:

Thanks for waiting. I want to address to prevalant issues from what reviews I get. First, Ron and Julie never really started. As with a lot of other parts of my story, it was another plan/intention that was changed midstream. That is the way life is, sometimes. Perhaps most of the time. I think I did her a favor since Ron is a teenager and, as such, can have his eye caught by another pretty face (he did, actually). The long distance wzard/muggle deal would have had a lot going against it.

Second: I don't think Hermione is ugly. I think she would think that spending even an hour a day on makeup, manicure, hair styling, etc. would be a colossal waste of time. Most women don't look "beautiful" as defined by our society unless they spend a little time working at it. She did it once that I know of, the Yule Ball, with great results. It took four or so hours, though. I let her find someone who is mature enough to realize that "beauty" in the visible sense is transitory. Harry saw her as a person and thought that person was beautiful so that will last a lifetime.

I'll try to get another chapter done by Sunday.

Dad


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 - No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

September 8th, 1997

Harry walked up the corridor to the entrance of the staff quarters. He thought it odd that he had never been in this part of the castle until now. He had, at one point or another, seen just about every other feature that Hogwarts had to offer. The staff quarters, however, had apparently never been a necessary destination. He said the password and the door opened inwards to reveal a moon-lit hallway with a large oak door every thirty feet or so. By shear luck, he only had to walk to the first door along the wall. When Honey Sweetwater was hired, it was to replace the professor who had occupied these rooms for decades. When McGonagall moved into the Headmistress's suite, located just off of her new office, Honey took over her old rooms. Harry knocked on the door.

Honey opened the door and looked down the hall in both directions before quickly ushering Harry inside.

"Hello, Harry," she said in a hushed voice. Perhaps nobody had informed her that these rooms were quite soundproof.

"Good evening, Honey," said Harry. He didn't have any reservations about addressing her familiarly since they were alone and she seemed to prefer it. "You look very nice tonight."

It was true. She was wearing a very elegant dress made of blue taffeta and lace. It had Ron's (and Harry's, for that matter) favorite feature; a fairly low-cut neckline. She managed to add a couple of inches with her high heals, not that she would be approaching the height of Ron, but it was an improvement. A cape over her shoulders augmented the general appearance quite a bit and a pearl necklace with matching earrings competed her outfit.

"Thank you, Harry," she replied. "I hoped this would be OK with just the four of us." She looked both hesitant and anxious to be off.

"It's just fine," replied Harry. "Shall we be off?" He extended his arm, as if they were to walk to his quarters.

"Certainly," she said, taking his forearm with her hand. With a twirl, they were gone.

Peering through one of the windows in the outer hallway, the Traitor's Assistant waited patiently to see when Potter would exit the room

"Good evening, Honey," said Ron. He was wearing a very nice blue suit that happened to match Honey's dress quite well. Hermione had been coaching him on the proper greeting to make when Harry and Honey arrived. "You look fabulous." He gave her a quick kiss and then took her hand.

"Thank you, Ron," she replied. "You're looking especially handsome yourself." Ron blushed. This was his first time wearing a "muggle" suit and he had to finally abandon the tie. A black turtleneck worked just as well.

"Welcome to our home," said Hermione. She was resplendent in a maroon dress that went well with her complexion and hair color. Her earrings glittered in the light along with a simple silver necklace that Harry had bought her the last time he visited the twin's shop.

Indeed. They were at Number 14, Grimmauld Place. The fire burned with a joyful crackle in the sitting room. Hors d'oeuvres were set out on a side table along with a complement of various bottles of wine and other spirits joined by non-alcoholic drinks in clear glass pitchers. Dobby stood by to serve as needed.

"If this is the Head's Suite, I should have studied harder," said Honey, looking around the room.

"We decided that our home in London would be more discreet than anything at school," said Hermione. "We have set up detectors to let us know if anyone is trying to contact us." She poured herself a glass of wine and selected a treat.

"How do you manage to keep getting past the anti-apparition wards of the school," asked Honey. "They don't seem to apply to you."

"It's magic," said Harry. He didn't want to dwell on his own abilities. This was supposed to be a time for Honey and Ron to get to know each other a little better. "Care for a kiss?" he asked, holding up a bowl of the foiled candies.

"I'd love one," said Honey, turning around and grabbing Ron around the neck. It was their first truly passionate kiss. Harry and Hermione blushed and walked over to view the fire for a few moments.

"It's magic?" asked Hermione, looking up at him with a smirk on her face.

He shrugged. "I always wanted to use that line." He looked over his shoulder and saw that this particular kiss was lasting longer than the chocolate ones.

"You never offered me a kiss," said a petulant Hermione.

"I'll get you one," he said as he turned towards the treats. He kept turning until he faced her again and gave her a kiss that made her toes tingle.

"That's more like it," she said, breathing deeply in contentment. She motioned towards the new couple. They had stopped snogging for the moment but had not come close to releasing their embrace.

"Oy, Ron," called Harry in a loud voice. "Have you asked her yet?" He stood by in exaggerated expectance.

Ron blushed to the point of incandescence and stuttered out "Wh..what are you on about?" He had lost most of his mental abilities in the last few minutes and it might be a while before they engaged again.

"I wanted to know," said Harry, "if you asked Honey if she wanted to go dancing after dinner."

"Oh!" said Ron, greatly relieved. "No, not yet." He seemed confused by the entire exchange.

Hermione huffed and went over and smacked Ron on the back of the head. "That was a clue, idiot," she said. She walked back over to Harry and waited.

"Oh!" said Ron, again. It seemed to be the majority of his vocabulary at the moment. "Alright. Honey? Ah..." He seemed to forget the question.

Honey looked up at him and smiled. "I'd love to, Ron," she said. She then gave him another kiss and decided to start on the refreshments.

After a while, Winky appeared in the sitting room, dressed in her chef's hat and apron. "Dinner is being ready, Master," she said, bowing.

"Thank you, Winky," replied Harry. They had company so he didn't try to correct her. "We will be in shortly."

Harry and Hermione led their guests to the dining room. The table was set for four with what appeared to Harry to be the entire supply of cutlery of the manor surrounding several plates for each of them. In the middle of each grouping, a tasteful shrimp cocktail waited with enticing abandon.

They had just sat down and Harry, watching Hermione for a clue, had picked up a tiny fork when three people materialized into the room.

"Harry!" shouted Molly. "Isn't it wonderful news!" She had appeared directly next to him and she gave him a bone-crushing hug. "Percy's back with us at last! He..." she noticed that they were at Grimmauld Place and their attire. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I thought you were at school. I didn't know you were ..." Again, she stopped mid-sentence. She had noticed that Ron was there; dressed very strangely. "Ron, what in the world..." She had seen Honey. Finally, she was speechless.

Harry stood up and, pulling out his wand, summoned his fork out of the ceiling. "Good evening, Molly. Hello again, Penelope; Percy. Please have a seat." He motioned towards the extra chairs.

"I'm sorry, Harry," began Molly, again. "I was just so excited when Percy came over and when he told me what you did for Penelope, they're married, you know, I just had to see you." She kept looking back at Honey with professional mother curiosity.

"No problem at all," replied Harry. "Why don't you join us? I'm sure that Winky has made enough."

Winky, hearing her name, appeared at once. "Is Master having more guests?" she asked. It didn't seem like it would bother her in the least.

"We have to go," said Molly. "Arthur is still at home. I just wanted to see you."

"I'll get him," said Harry. "The more the merrier." He stood up and then asked Winky, "Winky. Do you have enough food for four more guests?"

"Of course, Master," she said. "I is knowing that Master Ron is coming so I is making plenty."

Hermione and Honey both laughed as Winky went about setting up four more places at the table.

"Have a seat, everyone," said Harry. "I'll be right back." He stepped away from the table and apparated to the Burrow.

Molly walked around to Ron and asked, "Ron? Could you introduce me to the lovely lady sitting next to you?" She smiled at Honey.

Honey seemed to have finally figured out who all these people were. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley," she said, rising up and standing behind Ron. "I'm Honey Sweetwater."

"Pleased to meet you, Honey," said Molly. "I expect that you and Ron just met this year?"

"Yes," said Honey. She hadn't expected to meet Ron's mother quite this quickly.

"Please, have a seat and we can discuss this over our shrimp cocktails," suggested Hermione.

Everyone sat down. Winky had finished the place settings and had returned with four more servings of the shrimp.

"Congratulations on your wedding," said Hermione, looking at the couple opposite her. "When were you married?"

"April 3rd," said Penelope. "We had a civil ceremony. Just a few friends." She didn't look at her new mother-in-law.

Molly was upset at missing the first of her children's weddings but held her tongue. They had suffered enough lately. "I would like to host a reception at the Burrow at some point," she said, tentatively, to Percy.

"I think we would love that," said Percy. Penelope nodded and smiled at Mrs. Weasley.

"Could I just ask a question," said Honey. Everyone looked at her. "I don't want to be dense but it seems that the only person who can't apparate anywhere they want to is me. Mrs. Weasley, you didn't even seem to know where you were when you got here. How is that possible?"

Molly explained how Harry had given her a portkey necklace for his birthday. She had asked Harry to get a ring for himself but since he got married so soon afterwards, he just enchanted his wedding ring to serve the same purpose.

"That reminds me, Percy," she said, "I've got your ring at home. When we go back, I'll give it to you."

"Wonderful," said Percy, dryly. "Mother, please try to remember that I am married now when you decide to drop in."

"Of course, dear," said Molly. No one had any hopes that it would occur to her at all.

"Are you related to Harry, somehow?" asked Honey. "He doesn't have the hair but the family ties are pretty obvious."

"Not officially," said Molly, "but both he and Hermione are like my own children. In fact, they dated them for a while. Hermione with Ron and Harry with Ginny, of course."

"Really?" asked Honey. "Everyone seems to get along so well. Naturally, I'm glad it turned out the way it did, or Ron and I wouldn't have gotten together."

"Exactly how together are you two," asked Molly. She was ready for a little personal information.

Before Honey could reply or think of a way out of it, Harry and Arthur popped back into the dining room. Arthur had apparently wanted to dress a little better and was now in his good work robes.

"Good evening, Hermione. Hi, Ron," he said. He noticed Honey. Walking over to take her hand, he said, "Good evening. I am Arthur Weasley. You must be Honey. Harry has told me that you and Ron are dating."

"Yes, just," replied Honey. "We aren't too good at it, yet, so Harry and Hermione were going to give us some lessons on being discreet." She sat back down and Arthur sat next to Molly.

"Why would you need lessons on that?" asked Molly, working on her shrimp cocktail with zest. She then turned a little more serious. "You are of age, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Honey, a little embarrassed. "I am older than Ron, in fact."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that," said Molly. "Hermione is almost a whole year older than Harry."

"I didn't know that," said Honey, hoping that would be the end of that particular discussion.

Hermione, realizing that the conversation was heading into dangerous territory, asked, "We were thinking of going dancing in a muggle club after dinner. Would any of you like to join us?"

"That sounds like fun," said Penelope, excitedly. "I feel ashamed to say it, but dancing was one of the things I thought I would miss the most."

"We might stick out a little, though," added Percy. They were in their traveling robes. It didn't look completely wizardly, but it wasn't that far off. "I suppose I can make a few modifications and we'd be fine."

"That sounds like a good idea, " said Molly. "What do you think, Arthur? We haven't been dancing in ages."

"Normally," said Arthur, "I would have to decline, it being a Monday and all, but my son has returned to his family this night, and with a wife. I feel like celebrating."

"Well, then," said Harry, "we had better tuck in. It is a school night, after all."

Winky and Dobby removed the empty glasses and brought in the appetizers; baby artichokes with mayonnaise, mustard and dill sauce. After that came the arugula salad with stuffed salmon balls followed by grapefruit and mint sorbet. For the main course, Winky had made prime rib with au jus and horseradish sauce along with red potatoes with white truffle oil, snow peas and carrots. Dessert was an ice cream timbale served with chocolate sauce rounded out with lattes and chocolate covered crepe cookies.

"I'm leaving you, Molly," said Arthur, "and marrying Winky." Molly gave him a sharp look but smiled quickly.

"Winky," said Molly. "I think that was my husband's way of saying I need to take cooking lessons from you. I can't say I disagree. That was excellent."

"It certainly was," chimed in Percy with approving nods from the rest at the table. "What a day this has been." He leaned back in his chair and just relaxed with his eyes closed. Harry thought it might have been the first relaxing evening he had had for quite a while.

"It has been a long day," said Harry. "The night is young but morning comes pretty early. I would like to thank everyone for having dinner here tonight." There were reciprocal murmurs of thanks from the other couples. "Molly. How many can hold that necklace at once?"

Molly looked at the chain and said, "I think maybe four plus me."

Harry said, "I know were the club is. I will take Hermione and Honey. Give us a few seconds and then use your necklace to come to us with the rest."

The drop-ins quickly modified their robes where necessary to blend in with the muggles. Harry then had Hermione and Honey each take an arm. Looking at how he was situated, he said, "On second thought, you'd better give us a couple of hours."

The muggle club was new to the majority of the Weasleys. Penelope was an avid dancer so Percy had been exposed to this type of music before. His parents, however, decided after about an hour that the beat was a bit too quick for their age and, bidding all a good night, apparated back home. About eleven o'clock, Harry had to inform Ron and Honey, who by any account were both having a wonderful time dancing in each other's arms, that their ride was leaving so they had better enjoy their last dance. Percy and Penelope, having assumed that their dancing days were over forever, had no intentions of leaving until they were thrown out.

September 9th, 1997

"Good morning, Ori," said Wormtail. "Sleep well?" Wormtail gave him an overly concerned look that quickly changed into an evil grin. "I suspect not. Be careful getting up, by the way. We had started on the Dark Lord's instructions before he decided to give you a chance to prove yourself."

Orion Halsfer had not woken up feeling chipper. As Draco had found out, a stunner from Potter was worth three from anyone else. His head was pounding as if it would burst. He tried to put his hands on his temples but came up one short. This had the usual result of grabbing your attention and his missing arm was soon discovered. He could tell from Wormtail's greeting that he was in big trouble, so he glued his mouth shut and looked around. He seemed to be in a cell with iron bars in some sort of a cave. There were what appeared to be rat skeletons everywhere along with other debris from who knows what else. Besides his arm, he didn't seem to be hurt yet. Wormtail was nearby with two other Death Eaters. Ori had seen them before but didn't know their names.

"What's this all about, Wormtail?" asked Halsfer. "I've always been loyal to the Dark Lord."

"That isn't what Severus said," replied Wormtail. "He said your last meeting was brimming over with discontent and treason. You tried to talk Snape into betraying the Dark Lord and setting up a new order. You were not portrayed in a favorable light at all." Wormtail grinned evilly again.

"Lies, all lies," pleaded Halsfer. "I am completely innocent!"

"I believe you," said Wormtail. "Of course, the Dark Lord takes his own counsel in such matters. He trusts Severus more than you. We had already started on your punishment, as you can see, when he decided to make sure. As you know, he can tell when you are lying to him. He is willing to listen to your side of events. Unfortunately, he is busy at the moment. I was sent to get your memories of your meetings with Snape. If your performance is one of loyalty, you will live. If not, then we get the knives out again."

The other two Death Eaters pulled out their wands and Wormtail handed Ori back his wand. On a table nearby, a dozen bottles lay opened and empty. There was a chair next to the table and Ori took it. He was feeling better now. His memories would prove his loyalty beyond question and he would be saved. Perhaps he would even get a silver arm like Wormtails. Happily, he filled up four of the bottles.

"Thank you, Ori," said Wormtail. "This might help your head." He handed him a bottle similar to the one that Dobby had given Draco and took back the wand. "I'll be back, one way or the other." With that, he turned to leave. He then turned back. "I almost forgot. I have to send Dollen, here, to the Trolley. I can walk right up to it but can't remember the exact location. How are you on directions?"

"Oh, no problem, Wormtail," said Ori, anxious to please. "Just go to the east end of Westminster Bridge and look for that goofy elephant by the Dali Museum. The trolley is just to the North of there under the archway."

"Thanks, Ori," said Wormtail. "I don't think you are a traitor. I will inform the Dark Lord that you are being very helpful."

"Thanks, Wormtail," said Ori. He watched as Wormtail and the others left the cell and walked around an outcropping of rock. He could rest easier now.

"Well, that was easy," said Wormtail as they entered their office. "It's a lot easier to get information when they think you'll cut them up into little pieces if they don't." Wormtail quickly dissolved into the much more pleasing image of Tonks.

"I wish I could do that," said Dollen. "We have to wait out our hour before we can get breakfast." He didn't look too happy about it, either.

"I can't believe you even want breakfast, Ron," said the other Death Eater. "I'm still a little stuffed from that feast that Winky crammed down our throats last night."

"That was hours ago," said Dollen. Then, with a wicked grin, he said, "Say, Harry. Why don't we go visit Mum and get some breakfast. Tonks could go as Voldemort."

"Brilliant, Ron," said Harry. "Then Madam Pomfrey could put us back together in time for lunch."

"You think Mum would take on two Death Eaters and Voldemort?"

"I've seen her draw her wand and stop a bowl of food from hitting the floor," said Harry. "I wouldn't want to go against her."

"Good point," agreed Ron. It didn't look like they would have much longer to wait, anyway. Ron's hair was starting to turn to a shade of red.

"You'll view those memories, then?" asked Harry.

"Sure," replied Tonks. "I hate to think how long it would take to get this sort of information by following the rules."

"Why do you think I don't?" asked Harry with a smirk. They had both changed back and headed out for breakfast.

When they got to the Great hall for breakfast, Hermione was already finished and preparing to head out.

Harry and Ron, having chosen to only take four classes this year, had a day off. Hermione, however, still had a fairly full schedule. Harry and Ron had just sat down when she got up.

"How did it go?" she asked in a whisper. She bent low next to Harry.

"Like a charm," said Harry. He was starting to like the magic puns a little too much.

Hermione scowled and said, "See you later, laughing boy," and walked off to check in at the library before her first class.

Harry didn't notice the looks some of the other students, mainly Slytherins, were giving him. He ate his breakfast while Ron prepared his meal to go. Shortly after Ron left, Honey walked by and whispered, "Thanks for last night, Harry," into his ear as she passed. Harry smiled and watched her go to her morning "walk" with Ron. Things were working out fairly well for the present. Again, he failed to notice the other students who were watching.

When he finished breakfast, he got up and was deciding where to go next when McGonagall tapped him on the shoulder. "Mr. Potter," she said, "could I please see you in my office for a moment?"

He couldn't think of what he might have done to deserve the "Mr. Potter", but he said, "Of course, Headmistress," and followed her to her office. The students, once again, noticed this.

When they arrived, McGonagall walked around to her chair and Harry summoned one of his. "What can I do for you, Headmistress," said Harry. He decided to be on the safe side and address her formally.

"I am sorry to have to have this discussion, Harry," said Minerva. "I talked briefly with Poppy this morning and she told me what you did for Penelope. I am very glad that we have found a way to help people like her in these troubled times." She paused for a minute, as if to prepare for the bad part.

"I'm happy to do it," said Harry, "but I don't think that is why we are here, is it?" He sat back in his chair.

"No, it isn't," replied Minerva. "I have good hearing, as you know. My eyesight is also excellent so I was listening and watching during breakfast, today. A rumor was brought to my attention that seems to have already made the rounds of the school. Before I tell you, please give me a brief description of what you did after you left Poppy, last night."

Harry was curious as to what this terrible rumor could be but complied. "I left the hospital wing and went to change clothes. I took Ron and Hermione to Grimmauld Place and then came to the staff quarters to pick up Professor Sweetwater. We apparated back to my house and had some appetizers. At the start of dinner, Mrs. Weasley, Percy and Penelope portkeyed in using Mrs. Weasley's necklace. I picked up Mr. Weasley and we all had dinner together. After that, everyone went to a muggle club to dance. Arthur and Molly left first with Ron, Hermione, Honey and me leaving around eleven. I think Percy and Penelope might have danced all night. I took Honey back to her room and apparated back to ours. That's about it."

"Thank you, Harry," said Minerva. "You didn't show up for breakfast until late. Was there a reason for this?"

"Yes," said Harry. "We were interrogating a new prisoner. Hermione has classes today so she passed on that. Ron and I had to wait for the polyjuice to wear off so we got here late."

"Hermione left when you arrived followed closely by Ron. Miss Sweetwater then stopped and said something very pleasant to you, and you were both smiling when she left," continued McGonagall.

"Hermione had to go to class and Ron and Honey were off on their morning walk," said Harry. "One or the other wears an invisibility cloak so no one suspects."

"I see," said McGonagall. "All perfectly explainable except we can't explain it to anyone."

"Why would we have to, Minerva?" asked Harry.

"Because the story making the rounds is far more damaging than the truth," said Minerva. "You were apparently seen entering Honey's room last night and obviously not observed leaving it. This morning, Hermione sits alone. She leaves the moment you arrive with a not-too-happy expression on her face. Ron, your best friend, also seems to want to get away from you. While you are alone, Honey walks by and whispers in your ear. You both smile and off she walks with that stupid grin on her face. Exactly how does this look to you?"

Harry was shocked. He had done nothing wrong and everyone thought he was the vilest bastard on the planet.

Author's Note: A fairly short chapter but I liked it. I wonder how Harry will solve this little dilema.

Dad


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 - Thanks, Mum.

September 12th, 1997

Author's Note: Hang on - this will have some flashback aspects. We are starting on Friday but it will go back to Tuesday and work it's way back. My sister was a little confused so pay attention.

Friday Morning

"Oh, I'm so very disappointed in you, Mr. Cuffe." Harry Potter had come to see Barnabus Cuffe, the editor of the Daily Prophet on Friday morning, minutes after Hermione's copy had been brought to his attention. He looked at the front page.

Harry Potter Dumps Wife for Blonde Bombshell

by Rita Skeeter

"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Savior of Hogsmead and the Dragon Wizard, has recently been found out to also be an adulterer. After only slightly more than a month of marriage, Harry Potter's wandering eyes have fallen on none other than Honey Sweetwater. Sweetwater, a vivacious blonde, has been actively seeking the attentions of Mr. Potter from the moment they met, according to sources from her own Transfiguration classes. Yes! Harry Potter has not only left his devoted, but apparently unsatisfactory wife, Hermione Potter for another women. That women is, in fact, a professor.

"She was practically drooling on him," said Daphne Greengrass, a top student who witnessed the genesis of the affair. "I'm surprised that Hermione didn't drop her on the spot. Of course, everyone knows that the only reason she got him in the first place is her almost unnatural abilities with spells and potions. Otherwise, why would he, or anyone else for that matter, give her the time of day?"

"Other witnesses had less flattering observations. Millicent Bulstrode, a sturdy seventh year said that" Please turn to page 3 under the heading "Vile Bastard".

Harry dropped the paper on the ground where it blew off the nearly hundred foot tall granite cliff they were standing near. Actually, Harry was standing near the cliff. Cuffe was hanging upside down next to him, victim of a successful levicorpus. Harry had walked into Cuffe's office and the door, along with the wall it was in, turned into a sheet of four inch thick solid steel. Harry then walked up to Cuffe and, putting his hand on his shoulder, apparated them both to Land's End.

"I thought we had made amends, Mr. Cuffe," said Harry. "I thought that the past was past and we could move on into a new dawn of mutual respect." He looked out over the sea and sighed. "Apparently, you had other plans."

"Now, Harry," began Cuffe, nervously, "We have to print the news. Several sources confirmed this story."

"They were wrong, Barnebus," snapped Harry, coldly. Then, in a much more friendly voice, said "I realize that it is a simple misunderstanding that anyone could make. I will be happy to forget the whole incident when I read the retraction and apology on the front page tomorrow. Until then, goodbye. Liberacorpus." Harry turned on the spot and left Cuffe to consider his positions, both physical and otherwise.

Harry returned to finish breakfast. He felt a little better, now. It had not been an especially enjoyable week. After leaving McGonagall's office, he seemed to be particularly aware of the looks and comments made in his vicinity. After six years, he was pretty much immune to caring about what others thought or said of him. This was different, though. Now, Hermione had been dragged into it as, depending on the instigator, innocent victim or unsuccessful gold-digger. Honey, of course, had been out of the castle's gossip circles for several years so the scandal caused her no end of emotional grief.

Short of publicly announcing that Honey was dating Ron, not Harry, and all of the suspicious activities revolved around Harry and Hermione's actions to provide them with secluded rendezvous', they could see nothing they could do but to ride it out. Eventually, as long as Harry and Hermione continued with their increased level of public displays of affection, a suggestion made, ironically as well as surprisingly, by McGonagall, people would realize that the stories were false. Hopefully, this would happen before Harry and/or Hermione killed every Slytherin that opened their mouths.

The low point, or depending on your point of view, high point, came on Thursday morning when Blaise Zabini, perhaps feeling safe in the presence of all of the instructors as well as the entire student body, called out, "Still sitting with Hermione, Harry? Why not just be done with it and trade the hag for the whore?"

Harry sprang up and, without so much as saying a word or drawing a wand, walked over to the Slytherin table. Being no fools, except for Zabini, they walked, ran, jumped or in some cases, crawled away from him as quickly as they could. Zabini, probably thinking he was about to get the part, did his best ghost impersonation, as in white-as-a. Harry stared directly at Blaise and, again without wand or word, pointed his finger at a nearby suit of armor. It was immediately crushed flat as if a mountain had fallen on it, fusing into a single piece of metal from the pressure.

Blaise looked at the disk on the floor, still ringing from the blow, and then back to Harry. He was moments away from fainting dead away.

Harry, having made his point, said "I'm terribly sorry, Blaise. I didn't hear what you said. Would you mind repeating it?"

Blaise surprised everyone, including himself, by saying, "I'm sorry, Harry. I stepped way over the line. I apologize for my comments."

Harry had not been expecting an apology, especially from a Slytherin, but he recovered fast. He decided to use the moment to his advantage. Speaking loud enough to be heard in the entire hall, he said, "That's OK, Blaise. I accept your apology. This crazy story has just gotten completely out of hand. I should have realized that nobody would actually believe something that stupid was true."

He then walked back to his spot next to Hermione. Nobody, including McGonagall, said anything about the incident and went back to breakfast. The day went pretty well from then on and only actually funny references where made about the busted scandal. Of course, that was Thursday.

This morning, Hermione had received her Daily Prophet and proceeded to unroll it while drinking her coffee. Poor Neville.

"What is it," asked Ginny as she dried off her boyfriend. She looked over and saw the headline. She had just barely thought that they should not let Harry see it when he had.

Harry picked up the paper and calmly read the article. He then said, "Excuse me for a moment," and walked out to the entrance hall. A loud pop was heard a moment later.

"Someone had better have their will in order," said Dougal. There was about a half second laugh at this before everyone realized it could very well be true.

They all ate in silence for about five minutes until another pop was heard past the doors. Harry walked back in and sat down.

"Where's my paper?" asked Hermione.

"Land's End," said Harry, and picked up his toast. "Tomorrow's will be better, anyway."

Tonks had reviewed Halsfer's memories shortly after receiving them on Tuesday. She needed to verify and expand upon some of the details at the Ministry so she left for the day shortly thereafter. On Wednesday, she gave her report to Harry, Hermione, Ron and Remus, who had stopped by with two more finished maps. It seemed that Orion Halsfer had proved to be a less important catch than anticipated. Although he had provided four recent memories of meetings with Snape, they were all less than momentous. His first meeting came shortly after Snape and Draco arrived at Riddle manor. He was just one of twenty Death Eaters specifically assigned to Snape for whatever jobs he wished to pursue. The second meeting was more of a job interview than anything else. Snape wanted to know the general and special abilities of all of his subordinates. Made sense, really. A smart leader wanted to know as much about his available resources as possible. The third meeting came after one of his assignments. He and Snape were discussing the death of a Ministry official and how well it had turned out. Apparently, this particular murder needed to seem to be a normal death. Upon checking further, Tonks discovered that the person who benefitted most from his death was one of the three Death Eaters that Harry had found when he first demonstrated the maps to the Minister. The last meeting consisted of Snape telling him that he would be performing another special murder that needed to look like an accident. He then gave him the time and location to meet Wormtail for the specifics.

Ron said, "We seem to have finally got an experienced Death Eater with ties to the inner circle. Unfortunately, we asked him the wrong questions. Actual memories from real missions would be invaluable but we can't keep him believing that he is Voldemort's prisoner forever. He'll figure out he is being duped before long."

Hermione said, "Why didn't you use the extended obliviate spell on him. You could keep him in the dark forever if you wanted to."

"Because we are idiots," replied Harry. "Of course. Why didn't we think of that? I could have done the spell just after he woke up and then removed it a week from now if we wanted and he wouldn't have a clue." He thought further and asked, "It's already been a day and a half. Would it still be worth it?"

Remus said, "Maybe yes, maybe no. It's sort of on the far end of possible. I think we should have Tonks perform the regular obliviate spell on him to make him forget the time he has been here. Then we do this extended one you seem to have on him. Where did you learn that, by the way?" He had never heard of that particular variation.

"From Grampa, of course," said Hermione. He left it in a note and we did it on McGonagall when we first met her this summer. It worked perfectly. She had no idea that any time had passed."

"Why have Tonks do it, Remus?" asked Harry. "No offense, Tonks."

"None taken, Harry," said Tonks. "I have had auror training in that area and have had to use it from time to time. I would be interested in this new version you have. Do I understand correctly? You cast the spell and they won't remember a thing until it is removed?"

"Basically correct," said Grampa. He had, of course, been listening in on the briefing. "It is really only good for about a week or so. You can simply recast it, however. An excellent idea, Hermione."

Hermione and Tonks had then proceeded out to the fake Death Eater cage at the end of the tunnel, all while under the invisibility cloak, of course, and Tonks obliviated Halsfer with Hermione then casting the obliviate tractus spell immediately after. He would think it was Monday afternoon for as long as they wanted.

When they returned, Harry had another question for Tonks. "Tonks," he asked, "do you think you are good enough at occlumency to teach it to me? I never really had too much luck with Snape, for some reason." He knew the reason very well. It is difficult to learn a discipline that requires you to master your emotions and clear your mind from your worst tormentor.

"I might be able to, Harry," she replied, "although from what I've heard, it might be redundant. Even if I knew you were going to stun me, I could only shield it for a second or so. You can keep it up as long as you want." She heard back through the auror grapevine about his first double Defense class. Hammer had rightly concluded that anything done in the class would not be much of a secret, especially since it was done in front of a group of Slytherins. He didn't let his crusty old auror persona show it, but the old man under the crust wouldn't want to have to face Potter. Either of them, if it came to it.

"It is more of a possession sort of thing," said Harry. "I just don't want Voldemort taking over at an inopportune time."

"I understand," said Tonks. "Why don't we start right after this Dursley business is locked down. We both have enough on our plates at the moment."

"Sounds good to me," replied Harry. He went back to reviewing the maps. The elves, by virtue of working steady, if slow, had entered almost all of the data from the first set of Death Eaters into the map of Great Britain. They had only one or two instances of travel outside of the country so decided to let that part wait until more information was provided.

Hermione had figured out how to have the maps change in quarter day increments at the rate of three days per second. It was quick enough for their purposes but Harry had noticed a problem, at least for him.

"Hermione," he began, "I really appreciate the amount of time and effort you put in these maps. They're just what we asked for."

"Let the whining begin," replied Hermione. "What do they do that you don't like or don't do that you would like?"

"Well," said Harry, "since you asked. Now that we have tons of Death Eaters and their movements in detail, when the dots just jump to their next position, it's sort of hard to keep track. If they could actually move and leave a line for just a moment, it would be a lot easier to see if there were any general patterns."

"Do you want me to give you a neck massage while your watching so you won't get all stiff and sore, too?" she asked in her most condescending voice.

"Yes, please!" said Harry, enthusiastically. He quickly turned his chair away from her and loosened his collar. He then cringed with an evil grin on his face, waiting for the explosion.

Hermione stood up and did what every husband with a great wife never expects; she walked over and began to give him a strong deep-tissue neck and shoulder massage. He relaxed into it gratefully and said, "I love you, Hermione," and sank into bliss while his less fortunate friends stared on in envy.

The rest of the week was spent gathering info from the elves assigned to the Dursley's and preparing the fake report from Nott. Neither Millicent nor any other Slytherin had shown any interest at all in personal contact with Nott. They checked the notes that Bulstrode sent up every day for secret messages but it was apparent that the Traitor would not use that method to communicate with Nott. Dougal had suggested, and it appeared to be true, that there were redundancies built in to the plan for the loss of a single operative such as Nott to not be terminal. The Traitor would have other means to communicate with his master.

Saturday morning dawned, or so they guessed. It was a very overcast day with rain being a definite possibility, if not a probability. Hermione had prepared the weekly report for Nott. She included the scandal and the incident with Zabini. She noted that there were a few stretches of time when the Potters could not be found but that where they went or how they left was not known. She also indicated that Nott's illness was worse than was thought and it might be months before he was released. Until then, all of his information would continue to be second-hand and here-say. She prepared the letter to go out with the daily owls.

They went to the Great Hall for breakfast, as usual. Harry was wondering how much of an impression he had actually made on Mr. Cuffe. Apparently, quite a big one.

We Were Wrong

by Barnabus Cuffe - Editor - Daily Prophet

"We at the Daily Prophet, profoundly and completely apologize for any harm caused by our unfortunate mention yesterday of a possible love interest between the honorable Mr. Harry Potter and the lovely Professor Honey Sweetwater. It was brought to our attention that a massive hoax was played on us in this matter. Clearly, the students quoted yesterday were part of the conspiracy to besmirch the reputation of one of our finest and most upstanding citizens. Harry Potter is widely known to have much too fine a moral character to allow himself to be anything less then perfectly faithful to his lovely wife, Hermione. We also have it on good authority that Miss Honey Sweetwater, a woman also of the highest regard, would never " Please turn to page 3 under the heading "Gullible Stooges".

"You're right," said Hermione. "I do like today's paper better." She fastened the report from Nott to an available post owl and started to read the rest of the paper. After a few more minutes, the last of the morning owls, not surprisingly, Errol, flew in with a scarlet letter. He landed in front of Ron and skidded to a halt.

"What did I do to deserve a howler!" exclaimed Ron, guaranteeing that anyone who hadn't noticed before, now did. The letter started to smolder as first Hermione, and then Harry, realized the contents of the letter could only be one thing.

Harry pulled out his wand and shouted "Silencio", but a howler is designed to resist just such an attempt at avoidance so it merely fluttered to the side as the spell bounced harmlessly into Neville. By the time Hermione had thought of another possible spell, it was too late.

"RONALD WEASLEY! HOW ON EARTH DID YOU EVER THINK IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO DATE A PROFESSOR? I ONLY WISH YOU WOULD HAVE MENTIONED THAT FACT WHEN WE ALL HAD SUPPER MONDAY NIGHT AT HARRY'S HOUSE SO THAT I COULD HAVE KNOCKED BOTH YOUR HEADS TOGETHER! IF THIS GETS OUT, THERE IS NO TELLING THE DAMAGE TO YOUR REPUTATION, AS WELL AS THE SCHOOL'S! IF McGONAGALL FINDS OUT, YOU'RE TOAST! WHAT KIND OF A SCARLET WOMAN IS SHE THAT SHE WOULD DATE HER OWN STUDENT? AT LEAST I KNOW THE STORIES ABOUT HER AND HARRY AREN'T TRUE. WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T TELL ANYONE!

You could have heard a cat whisker hit the floor. Ron sat as if petrified. Harry and Hermione, being the only other students who knew of the situation, were able to move past the shock into possible next moves. Neither of them could think of any that didn't involve moving to another country. Honey, tears running silently down her eyes, began to slowly rise from the table and turn towards the side exit. McGonagall also rose and indicated that she should sit back down. She then walked to the podium.

"May I have a moment of your time, please?" she asked. It was unlikely that anyone would object. "I would like to tell you a story that has relevance to the situation we now find ourselves in. A long time ago to you, but not so long to me, another couple found themselves in a relationship that neither had anticipated. It was not of the professor / student variety but similar. The headmaster of Hogwarts had hired a former student to teach at his school. This was not unusual, especially considering the long tenure of the headmaster. He had known her to be good at the subject and she had many years of experience in the field since leaving the school. They enjoyed a professional relationship for several decades. She eventually worked her way up to assistant headmistress. During all this time, nothing inappropriate was ever said or done between them."

Despite the temptation, no one said "I wonder who these two mystery people could have been?" Everyone waited to see where the story would take them.

"One of these person's spouse had died many years before and the other's had died fairly recently. Eventually, loneliness and familiarity brought the two old friends to each other for comfort. The romance was kept secret, since it was considered unethical for two people, one of which had control over the advancement opportunities of the other, to be involved together. Secrecy for the sake of propriety caused many close calls. If not for the quick wit of the headmaster when they were found together, their relationship would have been discovered. But such secrecy has a price. The love that might have been began to whither and fade. Although it's shadow remains to this day, the chance for happiness was lost forever. Those of you who saw Professor Dumbledore's blackened hand last year witnessed the first real indicator of his mortality. He almost died during that incident and it seemed to wake him up a little. Almost the first thing he said to me when he was able was that he regretted allowing the opinions that others might have to crush the love we might have found."

She took a sip of water and continued. "It was for this reason that I did not object when I saw the happiness that Ron and Honey brought to each other. I was there when they first became a couple. It was not intentional but destined. From the moment they met, I noticed the ease in each other's company, the natural way they conversed between themselves and with others. Who am I to say that is wrong? The other issues were fairly straight forward. They are both of age. It is Ron's NEWT year so Honey can't control his grades. Harry and Hermione have taken on the full time job of keeping them focused during class." There was a burst of laughter at this. It was the first noise other than McGonagall's voice for several minutes. "In the end, I guess, I believe, as Albus believed, that it is always a good thing when there is a little more love in the world. Please, listen to what I have been trying to tell you. If anyone has any further concerns on the matter, please see me in private."

She sat down again. Breakfast was mostly over so the majority of students and professors got up and headed out. Ron, however, walked up to stand in front of McGonagall.

"Headmistress," he said, "I want to thank you for the heat your are going to take for this. I don't think we were doing a very good job at being discreet, anyway."

Honey and McGonagall both laughed at this. "No, Ron," said Honey. "I wasn't very good at that part, either. Headmistress. If you do take any heat from those that matter, I will resign immediately. You are already doing more than you probably should."

"I don't think so," replied McGonagall. "I think the people taking the heat will be the ones who say that when Voldemort is running loose and Death Eaters are killing at will, the biggest problem we have is two people in love. Don't worry about that any longer. Just find out if you are both as perfect for each other as I think you are." With that, she rose and followed the rest of the staff and students out of the hall.

It was now time for Harry to make the trip that he had been dreading. He would have to visit his relatives again. This time, however, his uncle would be included in the conversation. There had been no Death Eater activity within the two hundred yard range of the map the elves assigned to their house used. This would indicate that Halsfer's disappearance went unnoticed since a replacement had not been assigned to the task. Harry had only to choose one of his many available plans on how to kill them and make it look like an accident. This had once been a popular pastime of his while locked in his cupboard and, later, his room. He had to go into more detail than usual but the groundwork was laid. In the end, a car crash into a body of water was chosen since the bodies would obviously not be recovered. It would be done after ordered during the first available storm of reasonable intensity. The only problem would be if Snape ordered only the death of one of them. That would require more acting skills on the part of the "survivor" than if both died. Dudley's school had not been reconnoitered by any Death Eaters so it was assumed he could remain in blissful ignorance, his natural state.

"Should I hold your wand, just in case?" asked Hermione. She knew how much love wasn't lost between Harry and his uncle.

"I'd have to give you my hands, as well," he said honestly. "Perhaps it would be a good idea to just petrify him the moment we get there." Harry was not joking.

"Do you think your aunt told him anything, yet," she asked. It would help if Harry's arrival and news wasn't a total shock.

"I doubt it," replied Harry. "He wouldn't sit still long enough for an explanation and he wouldn't like it if he did. He probably still thinks he can defend himself by giving the Death Eaters the old one-two." He sighed. "Well, let's get it over with." He stood up and offered her his arm.

They arrived behind the house in a spot Harry knew wasn't easily visible. He walked up to the back door with Hermione and knocked. It was Aunt Petunia who came to the door. She didn't seem surprised to see either of them.

"Hello, Harry," she said, politely. "Please come in." She walked to the kitchen table and waited. Harry was stunned so Hermione gave him a push. He came around and walked through the door.

Petunia motioned for Harry and Hermione to take a seat and then asked, "May I bring you any refreshments?" as if they were normal human beings.

"No, thank you," said Hermione, politely. "We just came to let you know what has been happening regarding your situation." Hermione looked hesitantly around and asked, "Have you told your husband about any of this yet?"

Judging from Petunia's reaction, she hadn't. She looked quickly towards the sitting room and said in a low voice, "Not yet. I didn't really know what to say. I did talk to those elves you left here. I just had to find out as much as I could. You only said that we were safe but you were going to use us as bait. You also said that the people that want to kill us had tried to kill hundreds of children. I couldn't believe anyone would do that so I asked the elves. They said that they tried to destroy the train you take every year but you saved everyone."

"I didn't save everyone," said Harry, sadly. "Four students died."

"He did save everyone else," said Hermione, "including me. Harry was almost killed doing it but he did save us all." She gave him a quick kiss and rubbed his back. He started to feel better.

"I'm sorry," said Petunia, looking at Hermione. "Harry told me your name but I think it was a bit unusual. What is it, again?"

"Hermione," said Hermione. "Depending on which parent you ask, it's either from the daughter of Menelaus and Helen of Troy or from Shakespear's "A Winter's Tale". Take your pick."

"Thank you, Hermione," said Petunia. "You said you have more information on why these people want to kill us?" She was trying to remain calm. Considering the subject, Harry and Hermione both thought that she was doing a remarkable job.

"It all starts with Lord Voldemort," said Harry. "I believe you are familiar with what was going on with him just before my parents died?" Petunia nodded. "What I am about to tell you is a secret. No one would think you would know it anyway but just keep it to yourself, all the same. The reason my parents were killed and Voldemort tried to kill me was because of a prophesy. In it, I was named as the only one with a chance to kill him. It comes down to him or me. I plan on it being him. He has other ideas. There is a long story that is not important right now. Perhaps when we get this situation sorted out, I will have time to tell it. For now, you need to know that we are working successfully at the job of stopping his Death Eaters and ruining his plans. The down side is he is trying to use those close to me against me. Earlier this summer, he captured Hermione to lure me into a trap. I ended up killing twenty-six of his men to get her back. Later, he attacked a village during our wedding. That was just a coincidence but we helped kill quite a few more of the Death Eaters when we went to help. A week later, we laid a trap and killed his second in command and killed or captured a lot more. The train was his latest failure, although we took losses. He wants me dead and for good reason. We don't understand his latest plan concerning you, though."

"Because he thinks we are closer than we are?" asked Petunia, softly.

"No," said Hermione. "Because it isn't a trap for Harry, this time. They plan on killing one or both of you to get him away from me for a while. For some reason, they think I plan all of our operations. They want to grab me, squeeze all the information out of me they can and then kill me before Harry can find me and kill all of them. After that, they think Harry will fall apart and be less of a threat."

"They want to kill us and hope he comes here alone?" Petunia didn't have a keen military mind but it seemed that both she and her husband had been marked for death for a plan that didn't have a very good chance of succeeding. "Why would you stay behind?"

"We don't understand how they planned to carry this off," said Hermione. "There is a traitor at our school. Perhaps he would have something to do with making this all work. We hope to use our knowledge of the attack as a means of finding out who the traitor is. Don't worry. At the very least, neither you nor your husband will die. Everything we can do to prevent that has been done. We are only leaving you here in hopes of saving other lives down the road."

Petunia nodded. It was as Harry had said the first time. They were bait.

"What about Dudley?" asked Petunia. "Is he in danger?" She was quite concerned about her son.

"His name has not been mentioned and no Death Eaters have been near his school," said Harry. "We will also keep watch on him for a few weeks after you are removed to make sure they don't have any plans concerning him. He will, however, have to believe that he is an orphan for a while. He isn't a good enough actor for us to tell him you are safe."

"I hope he is able to deal with it," said Petunia. "He is such a fragile boy, after all."

Harry had a lot of descriptive words for Dudley. Fragile wasn't one of them. He decided to move on. "I'm sure that he will be fine. Do you have any questions, so far?"

"How are they planning on killing us?" she asked, out of curiosity.

"I am impersonating your killer so I got to chose a method that wouldn't leave any bodies," said Harry. During a severe storm, your car will be forced off of a bridge or cliff into the river or sea. An empty car under those circumstances would be completely understandable. Naturally, we will have a wizard and witch impersonate you for this final trip. By that time, you will already be safe."

"Perhaps we shouldn't mention the part about the car to Vernon," suggested Aunt Petunia, quite seriously.

Hermione laughed. She thought Petunia must have been joking. When nobody else joined in, she asked, "You can't seriously be saying that he would worry about his car when his life is at stake," she stated.

Petunia blushed a little and looked away. Harry said, "Uncle Vernon tends to see the trees more than the forest. We'll let that part be a surprise."

"I think the whole thing should be a surprise," said Petunia, suddenly and without hesitation. She seemed surprised at herself but didn't modify her comment.

Hermione said, "That sort of fits with what Harry has been trying to tell me. He thought we should petrify your husband the moment we got here and then explain everything. I suppose I could go along with just pulling the two of you out of here when the time comes and talk to him when you are both safe."

"Yes, please," said Petunia, smiling a little conspiratorially. "That would be fine with me. When do you think this will all be happening?"

"It's hard to say," said Harry. "I am supposed to meet with Wormtail on Monday to get my orders. If they give me the go ahead, it will happen the first good storm we get."

"What can I do to prepare?" asked Petunia. "I mean, what can we take with us?"

"I would say as little as possible. Certainly nothing that would be missed," said Hermione. "I can tell you right now that nothing that uses electricity is going to work anyway. As far as clothes, we can always get more but you should be able to take about a third of what you have and still have it look like you left everything. All family pictures and items of that nature should be left. It is supposed to look like an accident, after all, not a flight. Maybe a wedding picture or so. Nothing off of the wall. The muggle, I mean, regular police as well as wizard police will be investigating so it has to look like you were expecting to come back."

Aunt Petunia was becoming overwhelmed again. She had spent her whole life filling up her house. Harry knew that her tea cup collection had been started when she was twelve. It would have to be left behind. The same for her picture albums and her mother's china and just about everything else she treasured.

"I would imagine," he said, "that once the investigations are over, we could have someone put the valuables in storage. At that point, if you are still in hiding, a few things could make their way back to you."

Aunt Petunia looked at the floor. "I suppose you think I'm being silly. People want to kill us and all I can think about are my things."

"It isn't silly, "said Hermione. "Walking away from your life is probably one of the hardest things there is. You will not lose any of it, though, so that should be some comfort." Petunia nodded.

"I probably won't return until it is time to pick you up," said Harry. "Give the items we discussed to the elves. They will put them in your new quarters. If I am given other orders than to kill you, I will return to tell you. Otherwise, look for me during the next good storm." He stood up, followed by Hermione..

Petunia stood up with them. "Harry?" she asked, "why are you saving us?"

Harry looked at her. He knew that she was aware of his feelings for her whole family. "Because I knew about it. If I hadn't acted on a whim and captured this particular Death Eater, you would have died and I probably wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. To be honest, it wouldn't have mattered that much to me. But I do know, so I must act. You are family, if in name only. That is why I am helping you."

Petunia didn't say anything else. The Potters walked to the back yard to apparate back to Hogwarts. Before they left, Petunia said, "I'm sorry, Harry. I should have given you a better reason than that to keep us alive. I hope that I am able to do so in the future." She went back into the kitchen and closed the door.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31 - Here we go

September 15, 1997

"Of all the stupid things to go wrong." Harry was not happy. He had found that sequence was everything. When he had captured Halsfer, he had grabbed a hair for the polyjuice potion, bobbed his arm so that he could take it with him and left. Everything was fine. Now, he was looking at the stump where Halsfer's arm should be and he realized the only reason it worked before was because the hair he had used had been take from a man with two arms. This hair had come from a man with one. It was twenty minutes until noon and he only had one bloody arm. He thought that might be noticed.

"Why not just stick it on for now?' asked Ron. He, too, was watching the clock.

"Because it won't work," explained Hermione. "He won't be able to use it and that will raise a lot of questions." She frowned.

"Time's up," said Harry. "I'll have to risk it. Stick the bloody thing on me, Hermione." He handed her the arm.

Not able to think of a viable alternative, she complied. Tonks was the only other person who could impersonate Halsfer but she was not in the office today. There wouldn't have been time to brief her anyway. Hermione attached Halsfer's arm to Harry and put the hand in his pocket. She then petrified the arm so that it wouldn't flop around.

"There," she said. "That will have to do. Just make it a quick meeting and get the hell out of there."

"Thanks, dear," he said. They kissed each other and he apparated to the Dali Museum. When they had reconnoitered the museum, they had found a spot behind a dumpster that would serve for apparition so Harry had assigned an elf to be on duty there with a map.

"Good morning, Jumper," said Harry. The elf didn't look worried because he knew Harry was coming in disguise. The use of his name was an added security measure that Ron had come up with.

"Good morning, Harry Potter," said the elf. "Jumper is watching for three hours and no Death Eaters have appeared on the map."

"Thanks, Jumper," said Harry. "I'm running late so I have to go." He walked from behind the dumpster towards the ugly elephant statue that Halsfer had described. Just past it, he found the old style trolley on display. He sat on it's steps and waited. It wasn't easy but he managed to fix a relative map on the inside wall of the trolley with his one good hand. If Wormtail brought friends, he had better know their names. So far, the map was clear of red dots.

At five minutes past noon, a single red name appeared on the map. It was Peter. He was coming up on Harry's blind side so Harry tried to act as if he didn't know he was there but he pulled out his wand, nevertheless. He seemed to be following a fairly haphazard path. Harry watched for him out of the corner of his eye but he couldn't see him yet without turning around. Wormtail was only a few yards away so Harry tried to nonchalantly turn a little in his direction. Surprisingly, he still couldn't see him. Harry stiffened. If Wormtail had worn an invisibility cloak, it might mean that they were found out. He was deciding on his best course of action when Wormtail suddenly appeared before him.

"Boo!" he said, and started laughing. "Got ya, Ori."

Harry realized that Wormtail had assumed his rat form and snuck up on his old friend as a joke. The joke was almost on him; Harry was a split second away from blowing his head off.

"Blimey, Wormtail," said Harry. He had been told by Tonks that Halsfer used the dated exclamation so he did as well. "I came that close to giving you a new nostril. What made you do such a fool thing like that?"

Wormtail had enjoyed his joke. "Just a bit of fun, Ori," he said. "Nervous, today, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm nervous," spat Harry. "Been spying on Potter's family and then waiting here to get my orders to kill 'em. I saw what happened at the Manor, Wormtail. I'm not a fool. I'll have to go into hiding for a bit after this job."

Wormtail looked at Harry. "Not getting scared, are you?" he asked. He looked a little hesitant to continue with the transaction.

"Just cautious, Wormtail," said Harry. "I want my options to include something besides medium or well done. I'm happy to serve the Dark Lord. I just want to have a chance of living to serve him again."

This seemed to satisfy Peter. He, too, had come to fear Harry Potter. Malfoy himself had been incinerated by the boy. "OK, Ori," he said, "I guess you have a right to worry." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two envelopes. "These are the envelopes you must use. They are enchanted specially. One will find it's way to our man in Hogwarts and the other will go to our kidnaping team. Send them both with the time of the hit. The spy'll take care of making sure the right people go and stay." He handed Harry the envelopes. Neither had a name.

"Who do I address them to," he asked. He knew the answer but hoped that Wormtail would tell him anyway.

"No one," said Wormtail. "I told you; just put a note in each with the time of the hit and they will find their way by any owl. Give at least a half days notice. More if you can manage it."

"OK," said Harry. "Any more news from inside Hogwarts? What's been happening there?"

"Nott's pretty much useless," said Wormtail. He'll be in that hospital for months. Snape might still order him to break out and kill everyone he can, when the time comes. Our other source, however, came through. Seems that Potter can apparate on the Hogwarts grounds. That explains how he's been getting in and out."

Harry was shocked. He thought that anyone who saw them with Dobby all week would assume that the elf was doing the work, even if they were seen. "Are you sure?" he asked. "That isn't supposed to be possible."

"He says he saw it himself," said Wormtail. "Took three passengers with him, too."

"Will that change the plans at all," asked Harry. If they knew this, they might take measures to counter his ability.

"Of course," said Wormtail. "Mostly, it concerns the place that we'll take her when we get her. The Dark Lord has arranged for a safe house that we never used before. It will be shielded from apparition by the Dark Lord himself, for maximum protection. It will also be unplottable and covered with a fidelius charm. Potter won't be getting her back like last time."

"I suppose not," said Harry. "Back to the plan. So I just kill them both and try to draw him away for as long as possible, right?" he asked. He wanted to get out of here and plan.

"Right," said Wormtail. "Of course, we only need a little while, now. Once he's gone, our team will grab their target and get to the Dark Lord. She should be honored; our Master will interview her personally."

"I'm sure she will be very happy," replied Harry. "It will happen during the next big storm in that part of the country. A car wreck during a storm. Be ready."

"You're going to wait for a storm?" asked Wormtail. "What if we don't get one for a while?"

"How long have you been living in England?" asked Harry with a laugh. "This time of year, if it takes a week, I'll be surprised. It's the best way, considering my orders. The muggle aurors won't suspect a thing and it might tie Potter up for hours just trying to find their bodies."

"I suppose so," said Wormtail. "I've got to get back. Snape wants me to deliver another message for him." He didn't look like he wanted to work for Snape very much.

"Another one?" asked Harry, trying to goad Wormtail into giving more information. "Regular messenger boy, aren't you? Who's your next delivery?"

"Getting nosey, aren't you, Ori?" asked Peter, looking closely, again.

"Just wondering," said Harry. He had better pull the plug. His polyjuice would be running out soon. "Well, I have to go, Wormtail. Want to get a view of some of the locations I picked out for a good crash." He stood as if to leave.

"OK, then," said Wormtail. "I'll see you after the job. Don't bugger it up." He walked back the way he had come.

"I won't," said Harry and he grabbed the map and walked to the dumpster. He looked around before addressing the elf.

"Did anyone else with a dark mark come by, Jumper?" he asked. They had maintained the disguise for a long time. A trap wouldn't be totally unexpected.

"No, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "Only you and Peter Pettigrew and the arm of Orion Halsfer were displayed on the map."

"OK, Jumper," said Harry. "Let's go." They apparated back to the office of the Fortress.

"Come here, Harry," said Hermione. She was glad to see him come back safely, of course, but she was in a hurry. "I want to get that arm off before your real one comes back."

"Good idea," said Harry. "I think having three arms would be really conspicuous." He removed his outer robe and let his wife unstick Halsfer's arm. It came off easily and they had Dobby put it back in the mine.

"Thanks, Jumper," said Harry. "You did a really good job, today." It was the first time that a Hogwarts elf had accompanied him and he wanted to make sure they knew that he appreciated it.

"It was an honor, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "Jumper will be helping Harry Potter again if he is asking." With that, he returned to his regular duties.

"Did you find out anything new," asked Ron. They had all taken an early lunch to be in their office during Harry's trip to London. Remus and Tonks were also standing by.

"Unfortunately, yes," said Harry. "Their spy was watching one time when we apparated. I think it was when we were on the grounds and Wormtail said that I had three passengers at the time."

Hermione thought about that for a minute. "They found out this week, we were outside and you had three passengers?"

"Yes," said Harry.

They all went through their memories of the times Harry had apparated them in public lately. Finally, Ron said, "It must have been when you took Honey, Hermione and me to Honey's class. Remember? There was only a few minutes so you cheated."

"That was foolish," said Harry, berating himself. "We gave away a big secret by being flippant about it. How many times did I do that? Of course we would have been seen, sooner or later."

"It's done," said Hermione. "What changes will they make because of it and what changes will we make because of their changes?" She looked at Ron, their stategist.

"I'll tell you one change," said Harry. "They plan on taking you to a new safe house that they never used before. It will be unplottable and protected by the fidelius charm and Voldemort himself is putting up the anti-apparition wards. Wormtail said Voldemort will also be doing the interrogation personally."

"At least that puts an end to your plan, once and for all, Hermione," said Lupin. Hermione had suggested that they allow her to be captured and then use Mrs. Weasley's necklace to track her with Harry's ring. She would borrow it for just that purpose. They might get a few very high level Death Eaters out of the bargain. No one else would have anything to do with it, because of the danger.

"I suppose it does," said Hermione. "Nothing personal, Harry, and don't think I don't know you would try if you had to, but I don't want to have my life depend on you snatching me away from Voldemort while he's in the room."

"I thought good wives were supposed to encourage their husbands," said Harry. "Mine doesn't even think I can beat Voldemort in a duel." He huffed over to his chair but was smiling.

"Actually, Harry," said Hermione, "I think that both of you would know you were in a fight but it isn't worth the risk, yet."

"True enough," said Remus. "What were the particulars of your mission?"

"I have these two envelopes," said Harry. He produced them and put them on the table. "They are enchanted to go to the Traitor and to the kidnap team. Tonks, can we track them?"

"I doubt it, Harry," said Tonks. She picked up the envelopes. "The enchantment is probably for the owls. The envelopes will make it possible for the owls to know where to go. There are plenty of spells to use to make sure an owl isn't followed or tracked. I can't see Voldemort slipping up bad enough to forget that."

"OK, so we need contingency plans," said Ron. "Worst case is they somehow get Hermione, anyway. What are the weaknesses of unplottable houses and the fidelius charm?" He looked back and forth between Hermione and Remus.

"There is really only one weakness for either," said Remus. "In the case we are talking about, they are meant to disguise a building. If the building suffers extreme damage or is totally destroyed, both enchantments would be either weakened or fail altogether. The only problem is you need to know where it is to destroy it."

"Hermione," said Harry, "check your library and see if there is anything else. In the meantime, we need to know what the weather in southern England is supposed to be for the next few days." He was starting to change back to Harry. It was a funny feeling to have your arm grow back.

"I can have my parents send us an owl every day with the forecast," said Hermione. She made a note to herself on her assignments.

"Good," said Harry. "Remus. Do you and Tonks have your part figured out?"

"Yes," said Remus. "We just have to trade places with your aunt and uncle about an hour before the hit. Then we take their car up the M25 motorway to the bridge across the Thames and send it over the rail."

"Be sure to get out first," suggested Harry. "And whatever you do," he said gravely, leaning towards Lupin for effect, "be sure to change into one of the blimp skins that my uncle wears before you drink the polyjuice. Your clothes are much too nice these days to ruin them."

"Will do," replied Remus. He had been enjoying the change from ragged vagabond to dapper man-about-town.

"McGonagall has agreed to sit with Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary with a map when we start this little exercise," said Ron. "We can only hope that the Traitor will get some orders to pass on to Nott and he'll try to see him."

"Nott better do the hoping," said Harry. "I've just about used up my patience. Are you going to be in your Nott suit then, Ron?"

"Won't need to," replied Ron. "Madam Ponfrey will give us the word if a legitimate person tries to see him and I'd have a half hour to get ready. Someone new would probably be the Traitor."

"Do you have any idea on how they planned to separate us, Harry," asked Hermione. That was the part of the plan that they still had no idea on how it might go down.

"No," said Harry. "Except for class, we usually spend all of our time together. If they wanted to use a particular class, though, they would have told me to have the Dursleys killed at a specific time. I just don't get how they think this will work."

"We'll have to work on it later," said Hermione. "It's time for double Potions." Her eyes lit up. Unlike virtually every other student in the school, Hermione enjoyed the constant flow of exceedingly unimportant bits of information about the days potion that Professor Triffle was wont to say.

They arrived for class and, as usual, the door was open and waiting. This time, instead of being the first three students to arrive, they found they were beaten to the punch by Dean and Seamus. Professor Triffle was down at his desk, as usual, studying his notes. Dean and Seamus, however, were setting up some sort of a large metallic container under their table. They also seemed to have a supply of mugs.

"Hi, guys," said Ron, cheerily. "What are you up to?" He had also noticed their apparatus.

"Just being prepared to make a few galleons, Ron," replied Dean. He was starting a small fire under what they now recognized as a coffee urn.

"Is that coffee?" asked Hermione. She tried to get a whiff to find out for herself.

"Of course," replied Seamus. "One galleon per cup. Double strength columbian. Want a cup?"

"Coffee is free in the Great Hall," said Ron. "Why would we pay a galleon for a cup from you?"

"How long did the first Potions class last?" asked Dean.

"Three days," said Harry, catching on.

"This is double Potions," said Seamus. "Want a cup?" He held out a cup of the brew.

"Three, please," said Harry. Turning towards Ron, he asked, "Do you want some?"

"Same for me," said Ron. They both got out their money while Hermione complained about their foolishness.

"Really," she said, "he's very interesting. You should try to pay more attention; you might learn something."

Harry turned back to Dean. "Here's another six galleons for the break. Make sure you don't run out."

After Potions, Hermione went to History of Magic while Ron and Harry went to their rooms to shave again. Ron then met Harry back in the Head's Suite.

Because of the noontime activities, Ron had missed his lunchtime walk with Honey. Now that they were no longer a secret couple, they didn't need to use the invisibility cloak. Yesterday, a Sunday, had been their first full day of being out in the open and that was exactly how they spent it. It was a beautiful fall day with just enough cloud cover to make it extra nice. Hermione had asked Winky to make a Ron sized picnic lunch for the two of them and they stayed down by the lake for most of the day, just sitting and talking under the trees. When he finally returned, shortly after sundown, Ron had the same sort of contented look that Harry sported more often than not these days. Not the giddy school boy sort of infatuation but the longer lasting joy of finding someone that you can sit and talk with for a whole day without remembering any of the specific topics.

Unfortunately, Harry was having some very uncomfortable thoughts about Honey. Nothing uncomfortable in a Rita Skeeter scoop sort of way, of course. He was reviewing some of the circumstances when they had been in her presence and the implications. He took the opportunity to bring it up with Ron. He knew it would be a sore spot but he had no choice.

"Ron," said Harry, "I need to talk to you." He walked over and closed the door to the suite.

"Sure, Harry," said Ron. "What about?"

"Honey," said Harry.

"What about her?" asked Ron, concerned.

"Before I say this, I want you to know I don't have any reason to doubt her sincerity at all. I just want your opinion on some things I've noticed. It isn't personal." Harry wanted to keep Ron as a friend after they discussed this.

"It sounds like you don't trust her, Harry," said Ron. He started to get his Weasley hackles up.

"I do, Ron," said Harry, "but I want you opinion on some things that could look bad. If you tell me I'm an idiot, I'll believe you and forget it. If I may be right, we need to know."

"Let's hear it, then," said Ron, sitting back with his arms crossed.

"OK," said Harry. "It's probably like the first Prophet article; a bunch of coincidences, but here it is. The first time we met was in class. She didn't seem to have eyes for anyone but me. It drove Hermione crazy but that isn't the point. She was doing her best to virtually seduce me right then and there. It I hadn't been married, I don't know what I would have done. Then, she picks up with you. You're a nice guy and all but you are a student. Really, that was taking a tremendous risk. Could it be to get into our circle?" Before Ron could respond, Harry continued. "Next, we are late for class so I apparate us to her room. I didn't see anyone out there but now Voldemort knows all about it. Lastly, I sure didn't see anyone in the hallway in front of her room but that also is common knowledge before long. I'm just wondering if you see the same possibility that I do?"

"You think she's the Traitor?" asked Ron. His temper was rising with every word Harry said.

"No," said Harry. "I'm not saying anything. I want you to analyze this and let me know what you think. I'm a little prejudiced, remember? My parents were betrayed by someone they thought they knew. We all were fooled by a fake Moody for a year. That's why I want an objective view from you." He hoped that their friendship would survive this but it had to be said.

Ron simmered for a minute and then calmed down. "I understand, Harry," he said. "We have to be careful." He thought for a moment and said, "We'll find out tonight. I don't want to go around suspecting her for no reason. I think we should level with her and ask her to take some veritaserum voluntarily. Then we'll know."

"Not necessarily," said Harry. "Veritaserum is not foolproof. A strong witch or wizard can resist it. We'll eventually need something for the better Death Eaters, too. Maybe we could ask Hermione."

"I hate this, Harry," said Ron. "You had some valid points, there. It may be totally coincidental but I can't trust her until I know for sure. You know me; she'll figure out something's wrong in five minutes and have it out of me in ten."

"There is one way we can know," said Harry. "Nott can tell us who the Traitor is." He didn't know if it was wise to offer but he had just about run out of options with Nott anyway.

"Let's think about this," said Ron. "You mentioned the fake Moody but we were out all day together and she never took any polyjuice. I would have seen. The rest of it is still feasible, I'm afraid. Let's see what Hermione has to say."

Ron sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. After a while, without adjusting his position, he asked, "Why can't anything that's too good to be true, be true?"

"It probably is true, Ron," said Harry. "Honey is the sweetest girl in the world and I wish you both the best. The problem we have is that the stakes are so high, we have to be more careful than would normally be reasonable."

Ron didn't seem convinced. To make matters worse, he was supposed to meet with Honey after the last class of the day. Hermione's brilliant plan, assuming she could come up with one, would need to be implemented before that. Ron was correct in his assessment of his abilities to keep something like this from Honey. She would know everything before they had their second kiss.

As so often happens, a solution didn't become apparent until it was staring you in the face. That was literally true for this problem. Luna's Care of Magical Creatures class had let out early today due to the completely unsurprising reason that a student was suffering from the results of not paying attention to Hagrid. He may look like an oaf and he may sound funny when he talks but he knows what he is talking about. You can ignore his instructions only at your own peril. She asked a house elf to take her to the Fortress of Solitude so she could help out as needed and to visit a bit with Martha. The elves' office was completed and Martha spent a great deal of time there, helping the elves on duty to enter the data from the many maps and to decide if any significant events were taking place that warranted the presence of one of the main players. Martha had seen the arrival of Harry and Ron through the adjoining door but was busy helping a new elf understand Hermione's rather complicated data entry format.

After a few minutes, Luna decided that Martha would be busy for quite a while and walked in to the main office to check in with Harry and Ron.

"Hello, Harry," she said, airily. "Hello, Ron." She sat in Hermione's chair.

"Hello, Luna," said Harry. Ron remained silent but acknowledged her presence. "Done a little early today?" He noticed by the clock that there should have been at least another half hour of class.

"Yes," said Luna, "Farley Hanson decided rather unfortunately to prod his grumpworm with a stick. The boils should be gone by morning but the stench was enough for Hagrid to call class early."

"I like Hagrid," said Ron, "but I don't miss his class at all." They had more than enough experience with the rustic gamekeeper to know that the more he liked a creature, the more distance they should put between it and themselves.

"I don't know," said Luna. "Some of the animals are quite interesting. His classes are like a box of chocolates; you don't know what you'll get until you bite into it."

Harry thought that sounded familiar. Trying to think of the source, he looked vacantly at Luna. Letting his mind wander, he came across another thought. "Luna?" he asked. "Can you always tell if someone is good or evil?" He hadn't forgotten her sessions with Dougal and Nott.

"It depends on how good or evil someone is," replied Luna. "Ted Nott, for example, has gone quite a ways over to the side of evil and is easy to read. You, on the other hand, used to be very good but have become a bit more ruthless since last year. You are still good but you might want to be careful."

This took Harry by surprise. He always thought of himself as the good guy but he had become a lot less sympathetic to the bad guys. Didn't he even tell Nott that there were two states of Death Eaters that he came across; dead or captured?

"I'll try to be careful, Luna," said Harry. "I want to ask you a question. If you talked to someone, could you tell if they were working for Voldemort?"

"If they were evil, I could tell," replied Luna. "If they lie about it, I can definitely tell. I always know when I'm being lied to."

"Perfect," said Ron. "Luna, would you be willing to talk to Honey? There are some coincidences that we are curious about." He then added, "I really like her, Luna, and I don't want to suspect her of being a Death Eater."

"Are you going to keep this from her or are you going to tell her the truth?" asked Luna. She was in her more focused state right now.

"I had hoped to not have to tell her anything," said Ron. "I think it might hurt our relationship if I tell her I ever suspected her."

"I am not a spy, Ron," said Luna. "If she loves you, she will understand and forgive you. If she doesn't, you need to know that as well."

Both Ron and Harry thought about this for awhile. Eventually, Harry said, "Ron. I think you should bring Honey down here. If she is to understand the need for this line of questioning, she must know what we are doing. I don't think it is any different than Tonks and Remus. If she isn't the traitor, she deserves to know about this part of your life. If she is the traitor, this will be her new home. Either way, we need to talk to her, down here."

Ron thought about what Harry had said and added in Luna's comments. He had strong feelings for Honey but didn't want to have them cloud his judgement. Finally, he said, "Let's wait for Hermione. If she goes along with it, I will, too."

"Can't do anything unless you run it by Hermione?" asked Harry, smiling. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"I think Ron is absolutely right," said Luna. "Hermione usually has good judgement, although she did have a serious lapse when she went after Ron while you were right there, Harry."

"Thanks, Luna," said Ron.

"You are much happier with Professor Sweetwater than you ever were with Hermione, Ron," said Luna. She had drifted back into Luna mode but she still was pretty perceptive.

"I changed my mind," said Ron. "I trust you, Luna. I'll go get Honey." It was four o'clock. Honey's last class just let out so Ron headed for the statue.

Harry and Luna chatted for a bit until Martha joined them. "Hello, Harry," said Martha as she came in and sat down in Ron's chair. "Not a lot of activity today. Just a few of the regulars going into taverns or browsing Knockturn Alley." By being personally involved with the elves, Martha had quickly come to recognize a few of the more outgoing Death Eaters and even had a sort of profile on some of them, based solely on their movements.

'That might be changing the next good thunderstorm," said Harry. "We might even get our first group on the Hogwarts map."

"What's up?" asked Martha, more interested now, although her shift was technically over.

"They are planning a two pronged operation," explained Harry. "My aunt and uncle will be killed down in Surrey. They plan on having me go investigate while they will try to grab Hermione, here. She will be wrung for all they can get and then they will kill her, too. In order to keep me away, they might even have a group waiting for me down in Little Whinging."

Martha was starting to get a little better at not being shocked all the time but Harry managed to achieve that result occasionally. She had, however, learned what questions to ask to clear up his obfuscation.

"So what do you hope will really happen?" she asked.

"Well," began Harry, "my aunt and uncle will be safe in one of the other flats we have here. Don't worry; they won't have a door."

"Why not?" asked Martha. "Don't you want them to be able to move around a little?"

"If I was just a little darker than Luna thinks I am," said Harry, "I don't think they would be coming here at all. Believe me. After you talk with them, at least my uncle, you'll agree with me."

"I've never heard you talk about anyone like that, Harry," said Martha. "It just isn't like you."

"If I hated you, I'd put a door in their flat so you could see for yourself," said Harry. "Maybe they will change. I have to admit, my aunt acted almost human the last couple of times I spoke with her."

"Let's move on," suggested Martha. "You said that they plan on luring you to Surrey?"

"Yes," said Harry. "They expect I'll go see what happened to my relatives. Somehow, they plan on stopping Hermione from coming with me. We don't know how. When I get there, somehow, again, they plan on having her go down to the Forbidden Forest where they will kidnap her. They have a heavily protected and hidden place in mind to take her; better than Riddle Manor, I think. They'll get what they can out of her and kill her. Since she is the brains of the group, we'll be easy pickings after that."

"And what will you be doing all of this time?" asked Martha. She knew that Harry would wreak havoc on the Death Eaters but wanted to hear the details.

"I will go to Surrey with Tonks and Remus and an elf assault team. Tonks and Remus will take the identities of my aunt and uncle and drive their car to a bridge across the Thames and crash it over the rail. That is how they will pretend to have my relatives die. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon will have already been taken to the flat as I said. We assume that I will be observed at their house. I'll give them enough time to contact the Hogwarts team who will engage us here. Whoever tries to get Hermione down to the Forbidden Forest is the traitor. We will also probably be able to capture that group of Death Eaters as well. Ron will lead that team with another group of elf commandoes. With any luck, we will have our traitor and a bunch more Death Eaters."

"And what will Hermione be doing during all of this?" asked Luna. "She is the target, after all."

"She will be in the library," said Harry. "We want the traitor to be able to find her and that is her usual haunt. Again, elves will be on hand to protect her. She can also protect herself very well. Once they have been identified, she will come down here to monitor the rest of the operation."

A moment later, Honey appeared with Dobby.

"Hello, Honey," said Harry. "Where's Ron?" Ron had not appeared with her.

"He said he had to get something to show me," said Honey, looking around. "Where are we?"

"This is the office of the Fortress of Solitude, Honey," answered Harry. "This is where we coordinate our operations. In the room next door," he indicated the door that Martha had recently come through, "are a group of elves monitoring areas around Hogwarts, Hogsmead, Diagon Alley, Buckingham Palace and several other places for Death Eater activity. Outside," he waved his hand towards the cell blocks, "are about three dozen Death Eaters that we have captured. We question them and then Martha and her crew enters the information we come up with in some special maps that Hermione made for us. We can then track their movements and contacts over a long period of time."

"Why are you doing that?" asked Honey. This was a bit overwhelming. She had a seat in one of the spare chairs.

"There are only six people who may know that at this time," said Harry. "They are Ron, Hermione, me, Dobby here," he indicated the elf, "and two people you have only met briefly when we got the Order of Merlin, Tonks and Remus Lupin."

"So why are you telling me all this?" she asked.

Harry heard an apparition pop so he said, "I think I'll let Ron tell you that." But it wasn't Ron who came through the door; it was Hermione.

"Hello, Harry," she said, putting down her book case. "Could you please explain why you are sitting here alone with three beautiful blondes?" She smiled sweetly at him and his blood ran cold.

"We were discussing how to get you to dye your hair and get with the program," said Martha. She had quickly caught on to the repartee used by the teens. She was also more than happy to defend Harry. Hermione was not the only one in the room who owed him their life.

"I see," said Hermione. "If I did that, how would you tell us apart, Harry?"

"Dobby," asked Harry, "does it say "Fool" on my forehead?"

The girls laughed as Dobby said, quite seriously, "No, Harry Potter."

"Harry?" asked Hermione, "Could you step outside for a minute?" She walked out the door. Harry followed.

After he had closed the door she gave him a very nice, extended kiss. "I wanted to give you a nice kiss because you had better not have had one for an hour. Second, why is Honey here?" She looked at him expectantly.

"Hopefully, Ron will be here in a minute and can explain the whole deal to both of you. For now, I just hope this won't be her permanent home." At her confused look, he continued. "Just some things we need to clear up. We can wait for Ron." He silently asked her to join him back in the office and she nodded.

"You're a lucky man, Harry," said Honey. "Your wife has some discretion when it comes to giving out really good kisses. Ron came into my classroom and kissed my shoes off."

"I'm going to show some severe lack of discretion and ask what you meant by that last bit, Honey," said Harry.

Honey blushed. "Well, I mean when I went to give him a little kiss, he put his arms around me and picked me up to his height while giving me a really nice kiss. I guess my feet went limp because my shoes fell off. It was nice, though. The only problem was there were still a couple of second years gathering up their things."

"It could have been worse," said Hermione. "Imagine what might have happened if you had been alone."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," replied Honey, "and I did." She smiled and blushed some more.

"Could we change the subject?" asked Harry. The girls laughed.

Fortunately, it wasn't long until Ron arrived.

"Grab your shoes, Honey," said Hermione. "Here comes loverboy."

Ron turned almost completely red. "I can't believe you told them about that," said Ron. He put his face in his hands.

"Just bragging, Dear," said Honey. She gave him a quick kiss, somewhat more restrained than the last one.

"Ron?" asked Harry. "I think the quicker we get this over with, the better. I already gave Honey some of the background of what we do here. Could you go over why she is here or would you rather I did it?"

Ron took a breath and said, "I'll do it." He looked at Honey. "I want you to know I trust you, Honey."

Honey said, "But..." She indicated he should go on. So far, she did not seem to be upset.

"But," said Ron, "we are very much under the gun from Voldemort. He has used close friends to get to people in the past. Harry's parents were betrayed by someone they thought they could trust. Harry noticed a few things that look suspicious at first glance. We also know that there is a traitor in the school."

"A traitor?" asked Honey, surprised. "You think I'm a traitor?" She got up, obviously upset.

"No, Honey," said Ron and Harry together. Ron continued, "We just need to clear up a couple of things. We're playing for keeps and so is Voldemort. I want to trust you, Honey. I want to love you. That's why we decided to talk to you about this as soon as it came up."

Honey seemed to remain upset but sat back down. "What do you want to know?"

"Luna will ask the questions in a minute," said Ron. "I just want you to know why your name came up." He waited for another response but, receiving none, continued. "The first thing we have isn't much. The first day of class, you were just all over Harry. If you knew Hermione as well then as you do now, you probably wouldn't have dared to be so bold." Honey nodded and Hermione blushed. "After Hermione set you straight, it wasn't long before you and I got together. If you were a spy, the inner circle would be the place you would want to be."

"You think I'm only going with you to spy on Harry?' asked Honey, getting up again. She seemed on the verge of tears.

"Of course not, Honey," said Ron. "I'm just telling you how everything could be viewed. When I finish, you'll see why we have to ask." Again, Honey sat back down. She didn't look too pleased.

"I got lucky and caught the Death Eater supposed to kill by relatives. I then impersonated him at a meeting he had with the man who betrayed my parents. I think he is the reason that we have to check you out. He is Peter Pettigrew and my parents trusted him enough to be their secret keeper. He betrayed them. It isn't personal, Honey. We have to be sure. Anyway, at the first meeting they didn't know how I got around. At the second meeting, they knew I could apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts. They also knew I could take at least three passengers. The only time I took that many with me was when we went up to your classroom. Also, the day after we had dinner, it was all around the castle that I had gone to your room and not come out. We both looked, if I remember correctly. I didn't see anyone in the hallway, did you? These are a lot of coincidences that don't look good for you."

"I think I see your point," said Honey. "What can we do about it?"

"Are you going to ask her to drink veritaserum," asked Hermione. She didn't think it would be that big a deal but still didn't like accusing someone like this.

"No," said Ron. "That can be fought by a powerful witch or wizard. We all decided that Luna can ask her. Luna can tell if you are good or evil; truthful or lying. We all trust Luna."

Honey looked apprehensively at Luna. Like all people who didn't know her well, she was a little nervous about having her fate decided by someone who was just a "tic" away from being accurately described by her name. Finally she said, "Well, then ask me, Luna."

Luna looked directly at her and asked, "Are you working for Lord Voldemort?" Her eyes became very clear and focused.

"No," said Honey.

"Are you planning on betraying Harry or any of his friends?" Luna was very direct.

"No," said Honey.

"Will you still snog Ron's brains out?" asked Luna, completely dead pan.

Honey laughed along with everyone else at the table. "We'll see," said Honey. "It depends on if he takes me out to supper this weekend."

Luna turned to Harry. "Professor Sweetwater is not the spy. She answered the first two questions truthfully." She paused.

"What about the third one, Luna," asked Ron. That was the one he was most worried about.

"Not quite as truthful," said Luna. "I think that dinner isn't that important."

Honey and Ron both blushed but smiled at each other.

Harry said, "I'm sorry, Honey. We had to know. I'll tell you what. I'll spring for dinner for the two of you next Saturday night."

"Deal," said Honey. She had understood their motives eventually and had agreed that they had to be vigilant. "Ron," she then said, in a slightly sultry voice, "now that you trust me, why don't you show me around this place." She stood up and waited, expectantly.

Ron was stunned for a moment but recovered and also stood up. "Uh, sure," he said. They both went out the door. Those remaining thought that the third question would be answered very soon.

The rest of the week went fairly smoothly. The elf commando teams went over execution and contingency plans with Ron and Harry. Hermione continued to do research on countering the loyalty spell as well as receive daily weather reports from her parents. Sunny, so far. She had also modified the maps to make Harry happy. They could now watch movements more fluidly. She had to admit that it was an improvement. Some of Petunia's things started to arrive and were put in the quarters assigned to them. They were ready.

On Saturday morning, Hermione's owl from her parents arrived. There was a powerful storm heading in from the Atlantic. It would hit the channel on Sunday morning.

"OK," said Harry to Ron and Hermione, "Here we go."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32 - We Were Wrong

September 21, 1997

Harry woke up early. He wanted to make sure that Hermione was surprised that he had remembered her birthday. He crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom. He put on the pajamas that he had stashed there. Then, after first casting a silencing charm on the room, he called out "Winky."

"Yes, Harry Potter," she said. "Is Master being ready for Mistress's cake?"

"Yes, Winky," said Harry. "Can you set it up on the table in our sitting room?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Winky. "I will be doing that right away."

"Thanks, Winky," said Harry. "Please do it quietly. Then bring the breakfast that I suggested to the same table at a quarter to eight."

Winky popped off and Harry then called out "Dobby."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby. "What can Dobby be doing for you this morning?"

"Please bring me Hermione's birthday present, Dobby," he answered. Harry had taken the opportunity to pop off to Grimmauld Place and make some arrangements after Friday's session with Madam Pomfrey. That had been an unusual case. Instead of having lost a limb due to an accident or attack, the forty-something witch had been born with a birth defect. Her right arm ended just above her elbow. The muscles in that arm were atrophied due to lack of having a whole arm to move around. Madam Pomfrey had finally decided to tell the witch quite loudly and clearly that she would put a smaller, but proportionally correct for that side, arm on her and let her use it for a few months. If the muscles built up, then she would alter the arm to match. If they didn't, then she would have to consider amputating the stump at the shoulder and providing an entire arm. They would discuss their options in six months. That hadn't been the total cure that Harry had grown accustomed to but he was confident in Poppy's abilities as a nurse so he left the medical decisions to her.

Dobby left and returned within twenty seconds. He handed Harry the package, now neatly wrapped, and already having his orders, he left. Harry looked at the package. He had a hard time coming up with an appropriate present this year. He had already spent about eighty thousand galleons on her this year between her bookcase and engagement ring. He knew she would be upset with another present in that price range so he decided on an unusual choice. It might be possible to show it to her friends but it definitely could not have it's special characteristic explained. The problem came from their sleeping preferences. Harry preferred a light covering while wearing only his boxers. Hermione tended towards warmth. Harry also liked to sleep holding her tightly. Hermione didn't mind this but he could only be on one side of her at a time and the other side would get cold if not covered. This was already causing trouble in the slightly cool nights of September. By December, all out warfare was expected. Harry, being the practical type, came up with a solution that he thought would satisfy them both.

Slipping out of the bathroom, he checked to see if she was awake and then took her present into the sitting room. Harry put the present on the couch and went back to wake Hermione.

He bent down and kissed her on her cheek, as that was all he could reach from where he stood. She woke up and smiled at him. "Happy Birthday, Hermione," he said, softly.

"Thanks, Harry," she replied. "What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty, Dear," he said.

"You're a dead man, Potter," she replied lovingly.

"Come on, Hermione," he said. "We have to open your present so you can be ready when Winky brings your breakfast."

Groaning, but giving in to the inevitable, Hermione got out of bed. She was sleeping as Harry preferred so she put on a robe and joined him in their sitting room. She was glad that he was ignorant instead of forgetful. She had not said anything on her actual birthday, thinking, correctly it would seem, that he had the date wrong. She would wait for a few days and let him know that it is on the nineteenth, not the twenty-first. Meanwhile, she was happy to see the cake but what was he saying about breakfast? Why would they have to get ready for breakfast if they were eating in. She was a little surprised when she saw the number of chairs that were put out.

"Why are there ten chairs at our table?" she asked. Indeed, there were six more chairs than usual.

"We're having a slumber breakfast at a quarter to eight," replied Harry. He went to the couch and retrieved her present.

"A slumber breakfast?" asked Hermione. "What are you on about?" She was a little grumpy, as everyone knew, before she had her caffeine fix.

"I invited a few people over for your birthday," he explained. "Since we won't be able to have a party tonight, due to our plans, I thought we could have a party first thing. Now open your present so you can get ready."

Confused, but obedient, Hermione sat down and opened her present. It contained three articles of clothing. They were all nightgowns. One was lightweight linen, one was a fairly heavy flannel and the third was a very heavy wool. She looked at them and said, "I have nightgowns, Harry. What's the deal?"

Harry smiled and said, "You know those discussions we have been having on proper sleeping attire?" She nodded and he continued. "I solved the problem. You can be comfy cozy while I can still get what I want. Put one on and I'll demonstrate. Hurry. Our guests will be here any minute."

The light gown looked a little too light for company so she put on the flannel one. It looked just like any other gown. Harry came up behind her and said, "Now you can be warm and I can hold you like this." He put his hands through slots on either side of the nightgown at elbow height and hugged her to him.

"You've got to be kidding," she said, laughing. She didn't know if he had traversed the line from genius to depraved but she had to admit, it worked. She stood there a moment, enjoying his caress, before another thought crossed her mind. "Who is going to be joining us?"

As if in answer, Dobby popped in with Remus and Tonks, also in their nightclothes. Dobby popped away and before anyone could say anything, had returned with Neville. This was repeated until Luna, Ron, Honey, Ginny and Dougal had joined them. Dobby then snapped his fingers and Winky joined him, wearing a tiny nightgown. She had been convinced by Dobby that it wouldn't mean anything bad to Harry Potter and she would still be his slave. Since this was the theme of the party, she had agreed. Dobby, for his part, had on an extremely outdated nightshirt with a hat complete with poof. When Winky had appeared, breakfast had appeared with her. Not wishing to let a Winky breakfast go to waste, they all sat down at once. When he noticed that the elves were standing to the side, Harry summoned two more chairs and invited them to join them.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione," said Remus, between mouthfuls. "Interesting party."

"Yes, isn't it," agreed Honey. She was wearing a satin nightgown that Ron was enjoying very much. He kept moving closer to her every opportunity he had until they were touching quite solidly. She didn't mind at all.

"I must admit," said Hermione, "that there are advantages to being a teenage boy. I don't think I would have ever had the nerve to have a mixed pajama party, myself."

"I don't see what the problem is," said Harry. "I just went with the idea after it suggested itself from your present." He was trying to tweak her a little knowing she wouldn't be able to reveal the secret of her gowns. He was wrong.

"How does this relate to your present, Hermione," asked Neville, distractedly. Ginny was emulating her brother and had snuggled up close to him.

"Harry gave me three nightgowns for my birthday," said Hermione. She indicated the one she was wearing. "I had to put this one on before all of you got here."

"He gave you nightgowns for your birthday present?" asked Tonks. "How romantic."

"Oh, these are," said Hermione. She was up to tweaking Harry back. "They're specially made. You see..."

"Hermione!" shouted Harry. "Surely you aren't going to tell them about the ..." He stopped himself. He felt a slight blush.

"About the what," asked Dougal, smirking.

"Oh, these nightgowns have slots on the sides for Harry," said Hermione. "He can put his arms through them and hold me just the way he likes but I can still stay warm." Harry could feel his blush deepening.

"Brilliant," said Tonks. Turning to Remus she said, "I want some like that, Icy Paws." Lupin also started to say something but decided to remain silent.

"I'm surprised your mother hasn't already sent me one," said Honey to Ron. While giving Honey the tour of the Fortress, Ron had shown her the note his mother had sent in response to his reply to her howler. In it, she said that she might have overreacted when the Daily Prophet came out and that Honey would make a fine addition to the Weasley clan. She had then gone on to offer him advice on how to prevent "this one" from getting away. By the time Molly had finished, she had gone far enough around the bend to suggest a few names for grandchildren.

Eventually, the discussion turned from breakfast and pajamas to the day's mission. After the impromptu recruitment of Dougal and Luna, it had become difficult to see a reason that Ginny and Neville, two friends who had twice joined them fighting Death Eaters already, should continue to be excluded.

"When are we going to start the ball rolling, Harry," asked Tonks. Her nightgown seemed remarkably wrinkle-free for having been worn all night.

"As soon as we get dressed and find Mad-eye and Shacklebolt," replied Harry. "Then you, Remus and I will apparate to my aunt and uncle's house with a few elves. We'll start as soon as you get dressed in their clothes and Remus takes the polyjuice and Tonks transforms herself. It might take a while for the authorities to notify me so we need to have Remus drive over that bridge as soon as possible."

"What do you mean, Remus will drive over the bridge," asked Remus. "I thought Tonks was doing that."

"My uncle is the only one who ever drives," explained Harry. "It might be a tip off if suddenly Aunt Petunia is behind the wheel."

"I don't know how to drive," countered Remus. "Tonks had training in auror school."

"Are you saying you can't drive good enough to crash a car?" asked Hermione, laughing.

"Oh, I'll crash it, all right," replied Lupin. "The question is where."

"It seems that the solution is obvious," said Luna. "Tonks will have to take the shape of your uncle."

"Tonks will do no such thing," said Tonks. "I was planning on being Petunia. I can only transform into people who are roughly the same size. Can't any of you blokes drive a car?" She looked around the table.

"I've ridden in it a lot," said Harry. "I think I could do the steering but the foot pedals would be a problem."

"You have to do something with your feet?" asked Neville. "That sounds pretty complicated." Neville, of course, had enough trouble with a broom.

"Do you have to do this today?" asked Honey. "Maybe someone could get a lesson or two."

"I sent out the owls as soon as the weather report came in," said Harry. "My instructions called for at least twelve hours notice."

"Sure," said Dougal, "taking orders from Voldemort, now. Some Chosen One."

"Yeah, Harry," chimed in Ron. "What are you worried about? Halsfer would be the one taking the blame if you changed the plan a little."

"Might be interesting," said Harry. "Wait until everything is said and done and then finish the obliviate spell and put Ori back in that window. It'd take them weeks to figure out what happened." The men all laughed.

"That wouldn't be very much fun for Halsfer, though," said Hermione. She knew what sort of interrogation techniques would probably be used on the Death Eater.

"It wasn't much fun for the bloke in the Ministry he murdered, either," said Harry. He had a hard time feeling sorry for any Death Eater, much less one he knew was already a murderer. "Still, I suppose it would be wrong to do that just to mess with their heads."

"I suppose," agreed Tonks. "Still..." She lapsed back into silent thought.

"Heads or tails, Tonks," said Harry, standing and picking up a piece of buttered toast. He tossed it in the air.

"Er, heads," said Tonks, not really grasping what was happening. Apparently, she couldn't hear the whistle coming down the tracks.

Harry let the toast hit the table. It landed buttered side down, of course. "Sorry, Tonks," he said as he took a bite out of the toast. "It was tails. You're going to have to drink the polyjuice, too and be Uncle Vernon. I'll meet you at their house in fifteen minutes. Dobby, could you give them a lift? The rest of you, to your positions."

Tonks tried to figure out what had happened but as Remus was leaving, she decided to go, too. Ron, Dougal, Neville and Luna started for the door but Ginny called out "Luna. Just a minute."

Luna stopped and looked back. Harry caught on and said, "Winky. Could you take Luna back to her dorm, please?" Winky nodded and they left.

"Harry," said Honey. "Unless you want to start the rumors again, perhaps..." She indicated her state of dress.

"Oh," said Harry. "Sure. I'll give you a lift." He started towards her.

"Not dressed like that you won't," said Hermione. "Winky will be back in a second." It was more like five seconds but who was counting.

Ginny, satisfied that propriety was maintained, left with the rest and Harry and Hermione quickly got dressed.

At eight-thirty, Harry, Hermione, Dobby and Winky apparated into the sitting room of the Dursley's home. The rain was driven into the windows with a fair amount of intensity due to the force of the wind. Vernon and Petunia were eating breakfast but the multiple apparition pops aroused Vernon's curiosity.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he asked as he pushed the chair back. He walked into the sitting room just as Remus and Tonks arrived.

"Good morning, Uncle Vernon," said Harry, smiling. "Finished your breakfast?" He then waited.

"You!" grunted Vernon, growing red faster than a thumb that ran into a hammer. "You! Don't! Can't! Boy!" He then saw the elves and lost the use of most acknowledged forms of English. "Er! Ahh! Wha?" He finally resorted to pulling out his mustache in great clumps.

Harry reached out and took a few hairs from him and handed them to Remus. "Told you so," he said, smirking. Remus took the hairs and handed Harry a galleon. At the confused looks of both Hermione and Tonks, Harry said, "I bet him that Uncle Vernon would pull out his own hair without us having to ask."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She then addressed Petunia. "It's time. Is there anything else that needs to go?" She looked around for boxes or a suitcase.

"No," said Petunia. "I sent everything I could already." She hesitated and then went to her glass display case. She opened the door and took out one tea cup and saucer. Closing the door she said, "My grandmother gave me this. It was the one that started my collection." She looked at it and started to cry.

"What's going on here, Petunia?" asked Vernon. He had gathered that his wife knew for quite some time about this visit.

"There are some people who want to kill us, Vernon," she answered. "Harry found out and he's come to take us to someplace safe."

"Someplace safe?" said Vernon, disbelievingly. "Him? I don't understand."

"We'll explain it all later," said Harry. "Right now, we have to get you to safety and fake your deaths."

"Fake our deaths?" asked an increasingly volatile Vernon. "Bloody hell! He's probably here to cause our deaths."

"Now, Vernon," said Petunia, soothingly.

"Don't now Vernon me!" yelled Vernon in a rage. "This boy has sold you a bill of goods about trying to save us and you bought it? Well, I don't!" he shouted in fury.

"It's true," said Hermione. "Harry caught the real murderer and has been impersonating him. His orders are to kill you both and make it look like an accident."

"Who the bloody hell are you?" roared Vernon. He didn't seem to be coming around to an understanding at all.

"I'm Hermione Potter," said Hermione. "I'm Harry's wife." If she was expecting a courteous reply, she was in for a disappointment.

"Another freak like him, I suppose!" he shouted. "You can just clear out of my house. I'm not going anywhere." He crossed his arms and stood there; daring anyone to object.

"Vernon!" shouted Petunia. "Didn't you hear? We'll be killed if we stay. I've already sent some of our clothes and belongings ahead. We'll be fine as long as we leave most of our things behind. It'll look like we still live here."

"Leave most of our things behind, eh," sneered Vernon. "Well, I guess you'd better leave this." With that, he took the cup and saucer from her hands and threw them against the wall.

"Vernon!" she cried as she ran after them. Tears were falling from her eyes in great drops as she gathered up the fragments. You could almost see the memories of her grandmother in front of her eyes as she stared, not at her hands, but at her past.

"Petrificus Totalis" said Hermione. Vernon was now a statue. "Accio car keys," she said. The keys zoomed from the bedroom table to her hand. She looked at Vernon but spoke to Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry. I never believed that anyone could be so horrible, but you were right."

Harry, not responding to his wife, went to his aunt. "Open your hands, Aunt Petunia," he said, softly. She did, exposing the pieces of her broken china as well as her broken heart. "Reparo," said Harry, pointing his wand at the shards. Instantly, the pieces put themselves together and the cup and saucer were as good as new. He brushed his hand through her hair and found, as expected, a loose strand. He handed it to Tonks.

"Winky," said Harry. "Take them to their new flat. See to their needs." Winky grabbed Vernon's finger and reached for Petunia's hand. Before they left, Harry said, "Winky. See that no harm comes to Petunia."

"Winky is doing what Master says," replied Winky. "Bad man will not harm Master's aunt around Winky." With that, they popped off, but not before Harry thought he saw Petunia sigh with relief.

"Good Lord, Harry," said Tonks. "How the bloody hell did you resist blasting him all those years?" She looked about half as disgusted as Hermione. Of course, she had more experience with low lifes.

"Practice," replied Harry. "Let's not waste any more time. Let's go to the bedroom and pick out some nice clothes."

It was an interesting dilemma. Remus and Tonks were, of course, used to seeing each other in less than formal attire but they were each going to turn into a person of the opposite sex. Since Remus could not fit into Petunia's clothes until after his transformation and Tonks could not keep on Vernon's gigantic clothes until after hers, they decided to both disrobe facing away from each other before taking the potion. This was due solely to Tonk's target body. She didn't want Remus to see her as a naked Vernon and Remus absolutely didn't want to see a naked Vernon. They were left in the bedroom to change, in all meanings of the word and came out about fifteen minutes later.

"Don't they look...", began Harry.

"Don't even start!" snapped Tonks/Vernon. She looked like she was walking a tightrope. "How this oaf manages to transport himself around without falling over is beyond me." She/He took a few tentative steps and almost fell over backwards when trying to stop. "This is exactly why I prefer to just transform. The weight difference is tremendous."

"You should complain," said Remus/Petunia. "At least you don't have to walk on these stilts." He/She was trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to walk on Petunia's lowest heels, a pair of one inch high pumps. If Tonks was the acrobat, Remus was the dancing bear. He tried to walk around a bit but had to constantly flail his arms to remain upright.

Harry thought that it would have been funny if the stakes weren't so high. He then changed his mind and laughed anyway. Both Remus/Petunia and Tonks/Vernon looked at him with such convincing pictures of disgust that he had a flashback to when he actually lived here. That brought him around enough to say, "You just have to make it to the car, Tonks. Once you sit down, you should be OK. Remus, just take the shoes off. In this rain, no one will notice." Remus sat down and pulled off the shoes with relief.

"How can anyone walk in those things?" he asked to the room in general. Tonks and Hermione both laughed.

"You should try running with three inch heals and a tight skirt," said Tonks. She, of course, had never made it more than twenty feet in this mode but Remus didn't need to know that.

"At least it explains why you need so many pairs of shoes," said Remus.

"Why is that?" asked Hermione.

"So when you throw whatever pair you have on into the fire, you have a spare pair," replied Remus.

"The shoe problem has been fixed," said Harry. "The polyjuice is time sensitive so let's get moving. Tonks, you know the way to the chosen bridge?"

"Sure," she said. "Take this street to Oak Lawn. Turn left and go about fifteen blocks and take the ramp to the M25. Four miles later and we are in the water."

"Right," said Harry. "Remember. I'll be at the last warning sign before the bridge. I take control of the car at that point. When I see you apparate out, the car goes over the edge. I'll add a gust of wind to make those nearby have something to report. From there on in, it's by the plan." He looked at his watch. It was almost nine o'clock.

"Dobby," said Harry. "Take Hermione back to the Heads Suite. Then come back here and wait for Remus and Tonks."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby. Hermione kissed Harry goodbye and she and Dobby apparated away.

Tonks and Remus left the house and got into the car. Tonks managed to hit her head on the door but otherwise was OK. They left the driveway and drove off. Harry put on his invisibility cloak. No one could see him from now on. After about five minutes, he apparated to his sign post before the bridge. The rain was coming down in sheets.

Traffic was slower than normal due to the severity of the storm so it was another ten minutes before he saw his uncle's car. He pulled out his wand. As it went past, he saw the occupants disappear and he propelled the car to the side of the road just before the railings. He then sent it out well into the Thames, making sure to burst the doors open. With his free hand, he caused a strong gust to buffet the remaining cars that had already started to pull over. Many people started to get out to see if they could help. He didn't want anyone to get hurt in a rescue attempt so he waited to see if someone dove in after the empty car. Fortunately, since the doors were open, the car sank quickly. There were no bodies to see so no one would know where to try to perform a rescue attempt. In the end, the police were called and that was that. Harry apparated back to the Dursley house.

"What took you so long?" asked Remus. He and Tonks had to wait out the polyjuice. Dobby had returned and was watching the map. If the police were too efficient, they would have to leave.

"Some of the people that pulled over looked like they might try to help," explained Harry. "In this storm, they might have gotten hurt. I just stayed to make sure no one tried anything."

"Nice of them to stop, though," said Tonks. "Of course, if they knew the people that went in, they might not have worried so much."

"I suppose not," agreed Harry. He wasn't so sure about his aunt, anymore. "I'd better get back. Don't want the traitor to notice I'm gone. See you later." With a wave, he apparated back to his bedroom in Hogwarts.

McGonagall was sitting at her desk when a green flash erupted in her fireplace. A voice floated from it's center and said, "Headmistress McGonagall. This is Auror Brady from the Ministry of Magic's Law Enforcement Division. Could I have a moment of your time?"

McGonagall stood up and walked to the fireplace. Speaking clearly, she said, "Of course, Mr. Brady. Please come in." She stood back a little. A moment later, the fire burned quite brightly and Auror Brady stepped out into her office.

"Good afternoon, Headmistress," began Officer Gerald Brady. "I am afraid I am here to perform a sad duty. I need to inform one of your students that two family members have died this morning in a muggle accident."

"Oh, my," said McGonagall. She walked around to her chair and sat down. Naturally, she had been informed of this already by Harry. Her job was to join Poppy in the hospital wing after the official notification of the accident. "Which student does this involve?" She glanced down at her desk while waiting for a response. She had her relative map activated and hidden under a few parchments. The center was quite visible, though, and Officer Brady's name came up in black. He was no Death Eater.

"Harry Potter, Headmistress," replied the auror. "His aunt and uncle were killed this morning when their automobile was blown off a bridge into the Thames." He looked out at the shower falling on the grounds. "The storm is much more severe in the south and gusts have been measured at up to sixty miles per hour. According to the muggle police reports, a much larger gust was felt by many eye-witnesses when the Dursleys were blown off the road."

"How tragic," replied McGonagall. "Shall I inform Harry of this or would you have further need of him?"

"At some point he might be asked to appear at a legal proceeding, Headmistress," said Brady, professionally, "assuming that he is included in their will but they have a son who is of age so he will be required to handle most of the arrangements. That would be the only official reason I have for seeing Mr. Potter."

"Very well," said Minerva. "I will inform Harry and we will make arrangements for him to travel to their funeral and any other meetings that might come up. Thank you, officer."

"No problem, Headmistress," replied Brady. Without another word, he stepped back into her floo and departed.

Minerva looked at the clock. One-thirty. It would now be anyone's guess as to when the traitor would act. She went to inform Harry of the accident.

McGonagall made a bit of a show at finding Harry. She knew that he would probably be waiting with Hermione in the library. That was to be her post until her attempted abduction. She wanted to give the traitor the chance to know that he would be leaving soon so she asked a few people quite loudly if they had seen Harry. Since most had actually seen him heading with Hermione towards the library, she had to give up this ruse for fear of being too obvious.

"Harry," said Minerva, entering the back sitting area where Hermione sat with Harry, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"What is it, Headmistress," said Harry, looking concerned.

"I'm afraid that your aunt and uncle were killed in some sort of an automobile accident," she replied. "Apparently, this shower is somewhat more of a storm in the south. Their car was blown into the Thames."

Harry sat quietly for a moment. He knew that some people had heard and were watching him. He also knew that his reaction would be noted and compared with what was common knowledge in the school; he hated his relatives. If he showed grief, he would be suspected. If he showed none, he would be heartless. In the end he chose the truth.

"I see," he said. "I don't know what to feel. I suppose that I should feel bad but I had nothing but torment there. Still, they were family. Do you know if my cousin, Dudley has been notified yet?"

"I do not have that information, Harry," said McGonagall. "I have told you all that I know. Perhaps you should return to your relatives' house and see if anyone is there with some answers."

"That is a good idea, Headmistress," replied Harry. "I will go immediately. I never got along with my cousin but he is alone now."

"We'll both go," said Hermione. They had decided that she would naturally come along and it would be up to the traitor to stop her.

"Very well, Hermione," agreed McGonagall. "You may use the floo in my office to get to London. From there, you should be able to apparate to their house." Harry's ability to apparate within the grounds may have been found out but his range was still something of a mystery.

"Thank you, Headmistress," said Hermione. She got up and both she and Harry went to the Head's Suite to change clothes.

Ron, Mad-eye and Shacklebolt were waiting for them with the maps of Hogsmead and Hogwarts in front of them. A few house elves were also in the room.

"No sign of anyone yet," said Ron when they arrived. "We haven't heard from Remus and Tonks, either. I suppose no news is good news." He didn't seem convinced.

"They might wait until we start out," suggested Hermione. "Let's change and see what happens."

Harry and Hermione changed into muggle clothes and wrapped up in weatherproof cloaks for the trip to Surrey. They would take their time walking to McGonagall's office to give the traitor time to act. After they left, McGonagall would be heading up to the Hospital wing to wait with Poppy to see if anyone tried to contact Nott.

The trip to the Headmistress' office proved quite uneventful. Either the traitor was a complete fool or the plan had been changed. No one out of the ordinary was in sight. About the only one who seemed to pay them any attention at all was Mrs. Norris, but what was unusual about that? Eventually, and without incident, they found themselves outside the office doors. As Head Boy and Girl, they knew the password, of course, although they hadn't used the stairs much at all this year. Harry knocked.

"Hello, Headmistress," said Harry as they entered. "Are we alone?" He looked around.

"Yes, Harry," replied Minerva. "I am surprised to see you still with us, Hermione."

"So are we," replied Hermione. "No one came close to trying to stop me. There are also no Death Eaters in range of the castle. Perhaps they plan on capturing me in Surrey."

"With me right next to you?" asked Harry. He wasn't bragging. Unless Voldemort was in on the attack, most Death Eaters would not have much of a chance of taking Hermione away from him.

"It could be a trap, dear," said Hermione. "Fortunately, we have a team at both ends so we should be safe enough." Turning to Minerva, she said, "We had best be on our way, Minerva. Good luck on this end."

Harry and Hermione flooed to the Leaky Caldron, as the closest public floo outlet to Privet Drive. They then apparated to the back yard of Number 4 as before, in case there were muggles around. There weren't.

"Harry; Hermione," said Tonks when they arrived. "Come inside." They went in the back door.

"Hello, Hermione," said Remus. "What are you doing here?"

"No one made any attempt to prevent me," said Hermione. "We don't get it either. Isn't that the purpose of this whole thing?"

"I thought so," replied Harry. "Are there any Death Eaters within range?" He was addressing the elves in the kitchen.

"No, Harry Potter," said Dobby. He was not officially part of this elf commando group but he was on top of things, nevertheless.

"There weren't any at Hogwarts, either," said Harry. Where were they?

Minerva McGonagall was heading up the stairs when an elf appeared before her.

"Excuse me, Mistress," said the elf, "I is having a message for you." She handed the note to McGonagall.

"Thank you," said McGonagall. She had seen the elf around for years but didn't know her name.

"You are welcome," replied the elf and she disappeared.

McGonagall opened the note. It was from Hagrid.

"Dear Profesor MicGonagul,

Pleese come tu my howse. I got sum news for yew that is importint. Pleese hury.

Hagrid"

McGonagall frowned. She thought Hagrid could spell better than that but her real concern was the traitor. She needed to get up to the Hospital wing and watch for him. Then again, she trusted Hagrid. She finally decided to go out quickly and see what he wanted and then to hurry back.

She returned briefly to her office to grab a traveling cloak due to the weather and headed out the door. No one saw her leave. Almost no one, that is.

From the inside of the uppermost enclosed floor of the astronomy tower, the traitor watched her progress as she walked out to Hagrid's Hut. As she neared it, he took a coin from each of two different pockets. He placed them together.

In the Head's Suite, an elf called out. "Death Eaters at Hogwarts. Ten Death Eaters is being near Hagrid's house."

Ron, Mad-eye and Shacklebolt looked at the map. Indeed, ten Death Eaters had appeared just inside the Forbidden Forest. This was just outside of the school's anti-apparition wards. They were moving fast, too. There was one name in black just feet away. It read Minerva McGonagall.

"Jumper!" shouted Ron. "Take us to Hagrid's hut right away!" He and the other wizards each grabbed an elf and they popped away.

Ron started firing stunners as soon as he materialized. The closest Death Eater fell but the others were alerted. The one carrying McGonagall's body started to sprint while the others provided cover. Two more fell as Mad-eye and Shacklebolt fired. The elves cast their anti-apparition spells around three more but the one they wanted, the one with Minerva on his back and therefore effectively using her as a shield, made it to the tree line and, with a turn, he was gone.

Six Death Eaters remained in the fight but not for long. Mad-eye and Shacklebolt both were trained aurors and used stunners to take down two more but Ron was in a fury over realizing his mistake and his loss. He had never understood his relationship with McGonagall until now. She was always very strict with all of her students and seldom let them get away with anything but they knew she cared deeply about them all. He always liked her more than almost any other teacher and now he realized why. She was just like his mother. He knew their plans for her. She would be dead soon because he thought that they wanted Hermione. The Death Eaters in front of him would die first.

He felled the first two with one reducto simply because they were lined up right. He had tried all summer to get his love to work with his magic like Harry did. Now it kicked in and he was able to get a full one second burst. That was nothing compared to Harry but it sure did a number on the remaining two Death Eaters. You can carve quite an arch in a second if you work it right.

"Jumper!" shouted Ron. "Go get Harry right away!"

Jumper popped away immediately without a word. He knew seconds mattered now more than politeness.

Remus and Tonks were sipping some coffee. The muggle aurors had come and gone, finding no one home. It would take them quite a while to find Dudley. The wizard aurors had never needed to come at all since they knew where Harry Potter was. The rest of the morning and afternoon had been spent waiting for first the official notification of Harry and then the Death Eater attacks. So far, it was pretty boring.

"How long do you think it will take them to send someone to find out that I am here?" asked Harry. He was actually more worried at the absence of Death Eaters than their presence.

"I would have thought that any competent attack would have started by now," replied Remus. He looked at his watch. It was approaching two o'clock.

Suddenly, Jumper was in the room. "Harry Potter," he began, "Ron Weasley is asking you to return to Hogwarts now. Mistress has been taken by Death Eaters."

"Mistress?" asked Harry, confused.

"McGonagall!" shouted Hermione and grabbed Harry's arm.

"Everyone grab an elf!" shouted Harry. Then, realizing he didn't know where to go, he said:"Where is Ron, Jumper?"

"Ron Weasley, Alistor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt is being at the house of Hagrid, Harry Potter," replied the elf.

"To Hagrid's house," said Harry and apparated away with Hermione. The others followed almost immediately.

When they arrived, Ron ran up to Harry and said, "We were wrong. They weren't after Hermione. They wanted McGonagall."

"I heard," said Harry. "Jumper!"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper.

"Where is McGonagall?" he asked.

Jumper concentrated for all he was worth, increasing in intensity until he looked fit to burst. "I isn't being able to find her, Harry Potter," he said, in complete exhaustion. "I isn't feeling her at all." He sat on the ground, muddy as it was and looked for all the world like he was going to cry.

"We have to find her, Harry," shouted Hermione over the rain. "We don't have much time."

"I know," said Harry, softly. "I know. But where in the world is she?"


	33. Chapter 33

Author's note: This chapter may be a little hard on those of you with any compassion.

Chapter 33 - The Rescue

September 21st, 1997

Harry looked around at the five Death Eaters lying on the ground in front of him. Picking one at random, he said, "enervate" while pointing his wand at his chest. The man stirred and Harry used the levicorpus spell to suspend him in front of him.

"Where did they take McGonagall?" he asked, knowing that the first few moments after awakening, most people aren't quite aware enough to consider their response.

"To a house somewhere in Scotland," said the groggy Death Eater. He was shaking his head, trying to figure out why things still looked upside down.

"Where in Scotland," said Harry. He was trying to remain in control but time was ticking away.

"I don't know," said the disoriented man. He was starting to realize what had happened and seemed to become more aware of what he was being asked.

"How could you get there if you don't know where it is?" asked Harry.

"You're Harry Potter," said the man. "How did you get back so quickly?" He looked around at the others nearby, including his own fellow Death Eaters lying as if dead.

"I'm asking the questions," snapped Harry. "You're answering them or suffering the consequences."

"I will not betray my master," said the young man with the now familiar vacant expression.

"Really?" asked Harry. He cast a bubble-head charm on the man and then vanished the air inside. Quickly, he started gasping for the missing air and flailing about helplessly, suspended as he was. The others watched in astonishment but said nothing. When he started to turn pale from lack of air, Harry vanished the bubble and asked him, "Where is this house?"

"I only saw it from the inside," said the frightened Death Eater. "We were brought up with portkeys."

"What were you supposed to do after you captured McGonagall?" asked Harry, now that the man was becoming more reasonable.

"Bring her back to the house where Snape would take over," he said. Apparently, nothing focuses your thoughts like running out of air. He had lost his false loyalty to Voldemort because of his very real fear of Harry.

"Snape?" asked Harry. "What was Snape going to do with her?"

"He didn't say but we think he was to take her to the Dark Lord," said the Death Eater, now suffering from the effects of being upside down for quite a while.

"Where is that?" said Harry.

"I don't know," cried the man. He was clearly afraid of not having the answer to the question.

"Who does know?" asked Harry. "Do any of them?" he asked, pointing at the men on the ground.

"I don't think so," said the now totally flushed man. "We were all assigned to help Snape as needed. I don't think any of us knows more than I have told you."

"Will you give me the memory of this house?" asked Harry. He would start with what he had.

"I must not betray my master," said the man, weakly. He was starting to lose his fear of Harry since Harry had started to act reasonably.

"Really," stated Harry. He grabbed the man by the robes and apparated away.

"Let me know when you change your mind!" shouted Harry. He had to shout to be heard over the roar of the wind. They were falling now and rapidly approaching the hundred and ten mile per hour limit that a pair of men in robes can achieve during free fall. Harry had taken them both about two miles straight up.

"I'll give it to you!" shouted the newly cooperative Death Eater. He was watching the ground coming up very fast.

"Thank you!" shouted Harry and they both ended up back on the ground.

"Save me!" gasped a now thoroughly broken Death Eater. "He'll kill me!" He sank to his knees.

"He'll give me the memory of the first place they took Minerva," said Harry to his group, "but Snape was there and took her to Voldemort. I'm going to start with what we have. Bring the others to the Fortress," he said, pointing towards the unconscious Death Eaters on the ground.

Harry grabbed his Death Eater and apparated to their office. "Sit there," he said, pointing at a chair. The man complied. Harry grabbed an empty bottle and set it on the table. He said, "I just need a good memory of this house you came from," he said. He had forgotten to grab the man's wand from Shacklebolt before he left. He could wait a few seconds for the others to arrive. In the meantime, he could get a little more info from his prisoner. "You are now out of this fight. Look here," he said, pointing out the side window of the office. The Death Eater complied and saw about twelve cells from his perspective. Harry heard the first apparition pop from behind him but continued. "These are some of the other Death Eaters we have captured. They have not been as helpful as you. They are all in small cells." Hermione walked in alone. She had left her Death Eater by the apparition point under the eye of Dobby. He was still unconscious. Harry went on. "You have been cooperating so far. You will get a nicer cell." He pointed towards the empty large cells on the right. Fortunately, cell twenty-seven was in view. "We even had one Death Eater that earned his freedom. Work with me and I will be merciful." He waited as Ron, Remus and Tonks all joined him. Mad-eye and Kingsley were left to deal with the dead.

"Who has the wands?" asked Harry. Remus held them up. He knew that Harry had forgotten about needing them and had come through, as always. He did not interrupt Harry, though.

"We are your new friends," he said. "We are the ones who can help you, now. What is your name, friend?"

"I am Jordy Krillian," said Krillian

"The Dark Lord has promised you much but given you little," said Harry. "I, alone, can spare you the suffering you will endure if you resist. Help me a little and I will do much for you."

."I shouldn't help you," said the quite subdued Jordy Krillian, but Harry could tell that the spell was almost completely broken.

"Show me a token of good will by giving what I asked for and we will stop for now," said Harry, soothingly.

"I will give you the memory of the house but no more," said the man, finally.

"That is good," said Harry. Turning towards Remus, he said, "give him his wand, Remus."

Remus looked hesitant but held out all nine wands. Four would never be needed again. Jordy took his and seemed to be weighing his options. He finally said, "How can I give you a memory?"

Harry explained the procedure and Jordy extracted his memory of the house in short order. Harry took his wand back from him.

"Jordy, you have helped me," he said. "I will now help you. While I am gone, my friends will have to do something to you that will frighten you. Do not worry. I will fix it when I return. We must remove the dark mark or it can be traced. We must do this to protect you from the Dark Lord. He will be upset even by this little help you have given me. I will protect you. Trust me." He turned towards the others and said, "Jordy has earned a nice cell. I will view the memories and Dobby and I will go see this house for clues. I will fix his arm when I return. Winky can put him in his cell."

Remus, Tonks and Ron left with Jordy to put him in his cell. Hermione stayed with him.

"You seem to have found a cure for Voldemort's loyalty spell," she said, smiling. "A lot of fear and a little kindness."

"He had one chance with the kindness," replied Harry, "then I would have taught him the meaning of the word fear." He did not smile as he dumped the memory into the pensive. He looked around just long enough to be able to apparate there and came back out.

"Dobby," said Harry.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby. "What can Dobby be doing for Harry Potter?"

"We will go to the house that these Death Eaters used and see if there are any signs to where they took the Headmistress," said Harry.

Dobby took his hand without hesitation. They vanished.

They appeared in the sitting room of what appeared to be a small country cottage. It's windows looked out on pastures and woods. Harry did not see another house nearby from this vantage. He looked around the room but saw no map or other tell-tale sign of intent or destination. He started to move through the house.

"Dobby," he said, "we are looking for anything that might be related to Voldemort or another house. See what you can find."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Dobby as he headed into another room.

Harry looked through the papers on the tables and then walked into the kitchen. He smelled something funny but couldn't put his finger on it. There was nothing to be found in the kitchen, either so started on the pantry.

"Harry Potter!" shouted Dobby. He sounded alarmed.

Harry ran towards the sound shouting, "What is it, Dobby?" He had gone upstairs to one of the two bedrooms. Dobby was standing there, staring at the bodies of an elderly couple. They had both been killed without wound so Harry assumed it was done with the avada kedavra. That was the source of the smell. They had apparently been dead for a few days. Harry almost left the room in disgust but decided that he was here to prevent the same fate for Minerva. He quickly looked around the room for clues. Finding none, he and Dobby continued their search in silence. The house was chosen for location and nothing more. No information was to be had here other than the confirmation of the ruthlessness of the Death Eaters. Harry wondered if Jordy, the Death Eater he had befriended and promised nice things was responsible for either of these murders. With that thought in mind, he returned to the Fortress.

"Did you find anything," asked Hermione, when Harry and Dobby returned. Dobby left the office without comment.

"Yes," said Harry. "We found the house and the bodies of it's owners. It looked like it was chosen just to be nearby for when it would be time to get McGonagall."

"How could they know so accurately?" asked Ron. They didn't apparate in until she was feet away from Hagrid's hut. How could they do that without us seeing them?"

"The traitor," said Harry. "He must have been watching and signaled them. They just had to pop in, get her and pop out. If you weren't standing right there, ready to go, they would have gotten away clean."

Harry went to the cabinet and grabbed a potion. He then walked out the door.

"Where are you going, Harry?" asked Hermione as she and Ron both ran after him.

"To find out who the traitor is," said Harry. Nott's time had come.

"Harry. Wait!" shouted Hermione. She caught up to him but did not hinder his steps. "Do you really want to just do it like this?"

"If we had done it before, Minerva would be safe and that old couple might even still be alive," said Harry. "I'm through worrying about Nott's life." He didn't want to just apparate away so he went through the snake door with Hermione and Ron following. Ron said nothing since he was actually in agreement with Harry. He just wanted to hear the name of the traitor.

They arrived outside of Nott's cell. Harry said, "Last chance, Nott. Find a way to let us know who the traitor is or I ask you directly." He held up the bottle.

Nott had not gotten any smarter. "I will not betray my master, Potter. You can go to hell."

Harry apparated in to his cell and grabbed him. Quickly, he apparated back out to his wife and friend. "Petrificus totalus," he said and then released Nott's head from the spell. Grabbing his hair, he yanked back forcefully and poured the whole bottle down his throat.

"Harry!" shouted Hermione, "That's lethal at that level." She went to cast a healing charm.

"It doesn't matter," said Harry. "Nott! Who is the traitor?"

Nott, his face ashen at the realization of his imminent death, had no choice but to name him.

"Very good, Severus," said Voldemort, looking down on the body of Minerva McGonagall. She was tied in place to prevent her from flailing around too badly during questioning. "Let us greet our guest. Enervate!"

With a flash, Minerva woke from her forced unconsciousness. The first thing she saw was the face of Lord Voldemort. She screamed.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," said Voldemort. "I'm glad you could join me. I have a few questions for you. Although I must admit that I was looking forward to this, your obvious advancing age forces me to try to make it as easy as possible on you. I wouldn't want you to die before your usefulness is at an end." He laughed in his high pitched, girly way.

"I must say, Tom," said McGonagall, "I didn't think that I would agree with the first thing you said but I could go along with your making it easy on me." She forced herself to smile, an act of confidence and defiance that she did not feel.

"Oh, my," said Voldemort, "I'm afraid you have made a slight blunder. My name is now Lord Voldemort. Bella will demonstrate what happens when you forget things like that." He stood back and said, "Remember, Bella; I want her alive."

Bellatrix Lestrange came into view. "My Master," she said. "You were correct when you said she was getting old." She smiled. "Let's see how many years I can shave off. Crucio."

McGonagall convulsed with pain. She was sure that her back would break as she pulled on her restraints. Blood seeped around her wrists and ankles as the skin was broken from the shock. After just one second, the spell was lifted. McGonagall collapsed in tears.

"Now, now, Minerva," said Voldemort. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Now, what is my name?" He waited expectantly.

McGonagall knew what he wanted. She smiled inwardly as she realized that she knew hardly anything of use. Her ignorance would only cause them to drag out her torture so she arrived at the best course of action.

"Hmm hmm hmm hmm" she mumbled. She let her eyes go vacant and waited.

Voldemort leaned closer to her and asked, "What was that, Minerva? I couldn't hear."

Suddenly, Minerva McGonagall spat in his face and shouted out, "Tom Riddle!"

She almost got her wish. Voldemort was a heartbeat away from killing her then and there but he controlled himself just in time. He had invested a lot of time and at least nine men in capturing this woman. He would have to teach her obedience, though.

Bellatrix, however, was a bit of a loose cannon. "How dare you," she shrieked, wielding her wand in fury. "Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!"

Minerva screamed uncontrollably. Her left ankle snapped almost immediately but that didn't stop her from flopping about like a mad woman.

"Stop, Bella!" shouted Voldemort, waving his hand in front of his most rabid supporter. Even in his current state, he knew that three successive crucios with that kind of venom behind them could cause death or insanity. He wiped his face and turned to Snape.

"Severus," he said, "I think we might want to try the veritaserum you have prepared before it is too late." Bellatrix Lestrange backed away reluctantly while Snape pulled a vial out of his robes. He offered it to his master who indicated that Snape should administer the potion. He carefully poured five drops into the mouth of McGonagall, the maximum dosage.

McGonagall felt her will power slip away. She had learned how to fight this particular drug from Dumbledore but in her present condition, that would be difficult.

"Now, Minerva," said Voldemort. "What is the most important goal of Harry Potter?"

"I do not know," said McGonagall, truthfully.

"Come now, Minerva," said Voldemort. "Surely, you are directing his campaign against me, are you not? Tell me what you plan to do next?"

"I know nothing of his plans," said McGonagall. "He has told me very little."

"Snape," said Voldemort. "Something is wrong with your potion. I know she is lying but I can not sense it. How can she be doing this?" Clearly, in the Inner Circle, Voldemort is much more forthcoming with his questions and concerns. Such an admission of confusion would never be given in front of the rank and file Death Eaters.

"I do not know, Master," said Snape, smelling his potion, although if brewed properly, it had no smell. "Allow me to get a fresh vial. We will have to let this wear off for at least an hour, though." He looked to his master for permission.

Voldemort considered this. He had wanted to get what information he could and then kill her. According to Snape, only one of his ten men returned with McGonagall. The rest were killed or captured. It was true, they knew nothing of his whereabouts but it was still a very quick reply to his assault. Could this whole thing be a trap? Is this even McGonagall? "We will wait an hour, Severus, for many reasons. Perhaps this is some auror impersonating McGonagall. Let us see if the disguise wears off. We will then try again. In the meantime, her wounds might convince her to be more cooperative." He left the room along with Snape. Bellatrix, however, remained. She amused herself by playing with McGonagall's broken ankle. The screams were like music to her.

Harry, Hermione and Ron examined every inch of the Hogwarts map. Remus and Tonks were doing the same to the Hogsmead map. He had to be somewhere. If he was still in the castle, they could corner him easily. If he was in Hogsmead, he might have help at hand.

"There!" shouted Lupin. He was pointing at a spot near the edge of town. He was trying to make his escape. Too bad he couldn't apparate. Harry smiled.

Harry knew the only road out of town in that direction. He picked a spot about fifty yards past the last house and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

"Come along now, my love," said the traitor. "That was no accident. They were waiting for them. They might know all about us by now." He was shuffling along as fast as he could with his only friend.

"Nice day, Filch," said Harry, stepping out from his hiding spot.

Argus Filch stopped dead in his tracks. He knew he was a dead man but decided to delay the inevitable for as many seconds as he could. "It sure is, Potter," he said, trying to sound genial. It didn't work.

"Where did your friends take McGonagall?" asked Harry. He was pointing his wand directly at the squib, although he didn't need it.

"I don't know," replied Filch. "I wasn't even supposed to be working on that project. If Nott hadn't gotten sick, he would be the one you were after."

"Nott is dead, Filch," said Harry, cooly. "Tell me something worth your life and I might let you live."

"I didn't do anything worth getting killed over," begged the old man. "I only helped them catch McGonagall. I didn't kill her or anything. That's only worth some time in Azkaban."

"Do I look like an auror, Filch?" asked Harry. "I repeat. Tell me something I can use or you die."

Filch groped madly in his memory. "Snape recruited me his last year. He knew he would be leaving and needed an inside man. I was to send inside information about whatever I could find about what McGonagall was up to. I never found out much. She met with you from time to time but I could never get Mrs. Norris in to find out the details. She saw you going into the rooms of that new teacher so I tried to bring you down that way. I was able to report on you apparating on school grounds. They were glad to hear about that. That's all I know."

"How did you make these reports without Nott?" asked Harry. He hadn't heard much of use, yet.

"My contact came into Hogsmead on certain days. He'd walk around a bit and if I wasn't around, he'd leave."

"What is his name?" demanded Harry.

"I never knew," cried Filch. He knew he wasn't coming up with much but it was all he had. "He has blonde hair and is tall. You can recognize him by his mustache; it's very large and bushy."

"I'll tell you what," said Harry. "You can have Nott's cell. He won't need it anymore. You had better hope that you are as bad a traitor as a spy. We'll make it a little game; if McGonagall is alive, you live; if she is dead, you die."

He petrified the man and cat and apparated them both to Nott's cell. Nott was laying dead, just outside the glass. Harry popped next to him and released Filch and Mrs. Norris. Pointing at Nott, Harry said, "He wouldn't tell me everything. If you think of something that will help find McGonagall, let us know right away. I'm not a patient man." With that, he apparated back to the office.

"What did Filch know?" asked Hermione when Harry returned. She didn't want to ask about his current status.

"Not anything of use," replied Harry. "I left him in Nott's cell. Perhaps the view will jog his memory a little."

"What view?" asked Remus. He, like Tonks, had not accompanied the three to Nott's last interview. He did know about Nott's death but hadn't made the connection.

"Nott is lying just outside his cell," replied Hermione. "We came back immediately to search for Filch before he could get away."

"What should we do with the body?" asked Tonks. She knew that if he just showed up dead, questions would be asked that couldn't be ignored.

"Nothing for now," said Harry. "We have to find McGonagall. Nott is dead; forget him." He looked around the room for ideas.

"How can we find a house that is protected by both the fidelius charm and is unplottable?" asked Ron. He was just thinking out loud but it did express his frustration and their dilemma.

"We need Flitwick," said Remus. He was right. If anyone would know, it was the Charms master.

"I agree," said Harry. "Let's go." He got up and said, "Dobby."

It took a little longer than usual for the elf to appear. Harry was on the verge of calling again when Dobby arrived. "Yes, Harry Potter," he said, a little wearily. He was not his chipper self at all.

Harry knew what the problem was. "Dobby," he said, "We were not just a few minutes too late to help those poor people. They were dead for days. There was nothing we could do." He was in a hurry but he owed his friend a little compassion.

"I is knowing that, Harry Potter," said Dobby. "I is being thinking when I is seeing them that Mistress McGonagall is with these same Death Eaters. She is being in great danger and we is not able to be finding her. She is being killed and we isn't being able to help her any more that we is being able to help the old muggles." Dobby was distraught. His world revolved around Harry Potter and his ability to fix bad things. Harry had freed Dobby. Harry had saved so many of his friends. Now, though, in a way, Harry had failed him.

"Dobby," said Harry, sensing a little of the problem if not the underlying cause, "I have not yet given up on Minerva. I will not stop until I find her." He left off the "one way or the other." "Now we need to find Professor Flitwick. Can you tell me where he is?"

"Professor Flitwick is being in his room lying down, Harry Potter," said Dobby.

"Take Remus and Tonks to his door," said Harry, "and I will follow with Ron and Hermione." He held out his hands to his closest friends just as Dobby did the same to the older couple. As one, the all apparated away.

Professor Flitwick was currently the oldest professor at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had passed his mark by a good fifty years but he was gone now. The old teacher had taken to enjoying his Sunday afternoons in the form of a nap. This one had only been going on for about a half hour when it was disturbed by a knock on his door. Getting up, he went into his front room and, waving his wand, opened the door.

In came a whole crew of people who didn't seem to realize that he was old and just woke up. After a few seconds, he said, "Wait!" When the sound of their voices stopped, he went on to say, "Start over but just one of you, please." He sat in one of his tiny chairs.

"Professor," began Harry, "McGonagall has been kidnaped and taken to someplace that is unplottable and has been protected by the fidelius charm along with anti-apparition wards cast by Voldemort himself. The house elves can't locate her and we know for a fact that Voldemort is personally interrogating her. Can you help us find her?"

This was a lot for an old man to adjust to but Flitwick did his best. "Unplottable and the fidelius, you say?" he asked. Harry nodded. "And none of the house elves can sense her at all?"

"Only Jumper tried so far," said Hermione. "He is the head elf, though." She now looked less sure that they had done their best with the elves.

"Jumper," said Flitwick. He waited patiently.

"Yes, Master Flitwick," said Jumper. "What can Jumper be doing for you?"

"Gather all of the elves and see if any of them can sense Headmistress McGonagall at all. If any can, bring them here immediately."

"Yes, Master Flitwick," said Jumper and he apparated away.

"It is entirely possible that she had a stronger bond with one or more of them than Jumper. While we are waiting," said Flitwick, "the charms and spells you mentioned, including the anti-apparition spell are all dependent on the house or building being intact. If it were destroyed or damaged to a sufficient degree, those protections would be diminished."

"How can we do that if we can't find or see the building?" asked Harry. He already knew this much and didn't see much hope.

"We can't unless a house elf can point the way," said Flitwick, smiling. "If we can find the direction that the building is located and then get close enough for the direction to change, we can get a good idea of where it must be. From what I have heard from Professor Coldiron, Mr. Potter, you should be able to cast a pretty damaging series of spells in the general direction of the building. If you hit it a few times by chance, that would allow better detection and maybe a rescue attempt."

There was now some hope! If only one house elf could give them the slightest clue on where McGonagall was, they would proceed. As of yet, however, Jumper had not returned.

"While we wait for Jumper," said Flitwick, "perhaps you could tell me what happened." He waited expectantly.

Harry waited only a second. "I will trust you to keep this secret, Professor. The five of us along with a few others that are involved to a lesser extent, are involved in the destruction of Lord Voldemort. We have many prisoners and, by impersonating one of them, we found out about a plot to kidnap Professor McGonagall by killing my relatives."

"Yes," said Flitwick, sadly, "I heard of their deaths. My sympathies."

"They are alive and well, Professor," said Harry. "As I said, we discovered the plan but mistook the target. They never mentioned McGonagall by name but only referred to "she" and "her" so we thought they meant Hermione. They also had the help of a traitor, Mr. Filch."

"Filch, a traitor?" asked Flitwick. Before his question could be answered, Jumper popped back into the room with an elf. Harry recognized her as Sleepy.

"Harry Potter," said Jumper, "Sleepy is saying she can be telling a little that Mistress is still alive. She is also being able to point at her but not go to her."

"That's great," cried Ron. "Sleepy. Point at McGonagall now." He was almost laughing with excitement.

"Mistress is being that way," said Sleepy, pointing her finger.

Harry pulled out his wand and said, "Point me." The wand swung around and pointed north. By comparing Sleepy's arm and Harry's wand, they determined that the course to McGonagall was SSE.

"Get the brooms!" shouted Harry. He had a course. They were on their way.

"Let us try, again, Severus," said Voldemort. The hour had passed. No more news was heard from the nine other Death Eaters sent to fetch McGonagall so they were assumed to be lost. Both Voldemort and Snape had returned to their current headquarters during this time. Snape to retrieve another bottle of veritaserum and Voldemort to interview the one surviving member of the kidnap squad. According to the survivor, an experienced Death Eater by the name of Flinder, they had only just stunned McGonagall when the defenders arrived. He had McGonagall over his back and proceeded to complete his mission while relying on the rest for cover. He only caught a glimpse as he turned to apparate but he thought that at least two of his fellow kidnapers were already down. Voldemort had thought almost the entire time on how this could have happened. They were only exposed for a matter of seconds. Flinder had stuck to his primary duty; return with McGonagall. The rest had given him that time. This mission, with the exception of the loss of nine men, had at least succeeded.

It is not usual for Voldemort to be concerned that one of his minions is too sadistic or cruel but when he and Snape returned to the stone cottage where McGonagall was being held, the sights and sounds they heard caused both of them to look at each other with that "What in the world is she thinking?" look.

Bellatrix Lestrange had not tired of her game during the entire hour they were gone. Minerva's left foot was now almost completely black from lack of circulation. It hung loosely as if only the skin was left to keep it attached. Bruises covered her head and face where she had been beaten. If they had appeared so quickly, they were likely to get much worse.

Voldemort thrust out his arm and Bellatrix slammed against the wall, just before she was going to administer more beatings. "Bella!" shouted Voldemort. "What have you done?" He went up to the now unconscious McGonagall and examined her closely. She was still alive, at least.

"She insulted you after you left, Master," explained Lestrange. "She dared to say that the baby Potter is an equal to you. I had to teach her not to tell such lies, Master." She still seemed furious.

Voldemort had to admire her loyalty but the stupidity tended to negate it. "She wanted you to kill her, fool," said Voldemort. She didn't want to betray her young champion so she was trying to goad you into preventing her from doing so." He reexamined McGonagall and turned to Snape. "Severus, it is more clear than ever that she must have devastating knowledge that we must obtain. Return and gather what cures you can find to keep her alive a while longer. I will remain here to make sure that our little psycho doesn't finish her off." He turned once again to look at Bellatrix. She was standing obediently to one side but still seemed anxious to inflict more damage. Such people were good to have in a fight but otherwise tended to even have him a little worried.

The Rescuers were streaking across the sky at about one hundred and eighty miles per hour. It was the best speed they could sustain. Lying flat on their brooms, they still had to deal with wind resistance, despite their Firebolts having a built-in magical nose cone to help deflect the air around them. Then there was the fact that they didn't know how far to go so they had to be constantly on the alert to a change of direction from Sleepy. She still felt the pull from the same direction so they went on. She sat on Harry's broom and mostly covered her eyes but made sure that the course was true. The scary part was it was the afternoon. Normally, witches and wizards that had to travel by broom did so at night, so they wouldn't be seen. They didn't have that option. Since it was still daytime, they had to fly at treetop, and sometimes housetop, level to avoid detection. They may be heard but they would be long gone before anyone knew what had happened. Behind Harry flew Ron with Jumper. Then came Hermione with Dobby, upset that he wasn't with Harry but understanding why. They were the only ones with Firebolts so the rest would be brought up by elf when they found Minerva.

"She is starting to regain consciousness, My Lord," stated Snape, gravely. "She is still on the edge and might die soon. The damage is very severe." He backed away from the table McGonagall was strapped to and waited. McGonagall had started to groan and cry a bit but was far from coherent.

Lord Voldemort examined her himself and then said, "Imerio," while using his wand in the proper manner. McGonagall stopped her expressions of pain. Voldemort had decided on the imperius curse because it was almost as good as veritaserum and it would block out almost all pain while under it's direct control. He had used it on Potter with the same effect. Potter had thrown it off, though. If he was Minerva's protege now, then she probably also had that ability but in her present condition, she might not have the strength.

Minerva opened her eyes, at least the one that opened. She felt little pain but could vaguely feel restrained. She heard a soothing voice.

"Minerva," said Voldemort, "tell me of the plans that you have for Harry Potter." He waited expectantly. A fairly open ended question like this could lead anywhere or nowhere but it was a good place to start.

"I plan on helping him finish his education at Hogwarts," she said, smiling a bit. "I plan on postponing my retirement until his children are finished, as well. I plan to help him with his battle against Voldemort. I plan on helping Hermione if he is injured or dies while destroying Voldemort."

"Minerva," said Voldemort, a little less patiently, "tell me of his short term plans. What is he working on now?"

"He his using information that he obtained to prevent Voldemort from kidnaping Hermione and getting any useful information out of her. He is also preventing the deaths of his relatives by somehow making it look like they died in a muggle accident. He is going to try to capture Death Eaters when they arrive at Hogwarts and at his aunt's house, in Surrey."

Voldemort was now getting frustrated. He was getting detailed information about a plan that he knew everything about, anyway. "What plans are you working on that haven't already been used? What is the next thing that you and Potter are going to do?"

"I was to go sit with Poppy and see if the traitor in my school tries to contact Theodore Nott," she said.

"Why would the traitor try to contact Nott?" asked Voldemort, worrying that he knew the answer.

Minerva said, "He is a Death Eater that Harry captured when school started. We have been pretending to have him in the infirmary in hopes of finding out more about the traitor."

"Where is Theodore Nott?" asked Voldemort.

"In the Fortress of Solitude," said McGonagall.

"Where is that?" asked Voldemort, eagerly. Perhaps he would be able to visit Potter.

"I don't know," said McGonagall. "He has all of his prisoners there. He interviews them and then tells me just what I need to know to protect the school."

"He tells you?" asked Voldemort. "Don't you plan his attacks for him, or at least with him?"

"No," replied McGonagall. "Only if he needs my help. I was an obvious target for Voldemort so I was kept in the dark as much as possible."

Voldemort had to stop and think. All of his plans revolved around secret information. Potter knew about Nott, the traitor and this attack. That was why help was only seconds away when they captured McGonagall. Only a blunder on their target prevented a full blown disaster. It turned out that both sides were wrong on that one. But for Potter to know as much as he did, someone in his upper ranks must be a spy. He would take Bellatrix on faith but the rest...

"Severus," he said, "I may need to alter my plans for Minerva. Return to headquarters and prepare a few of my trusted followers to care for her here. I believe this house will remain the most secure place for her but I might need to question her in the future. When you return, you will need to tend to her wounds more carefully."

"Yes, My Lord," said Snape and he took the few steps necessary to leave the small anti-apparition ward and left.

Voldemort sat pondering his new information. Minerva was perhaps of more use alive than dead. It wouldn't really matter if they got her back or not. But as a lure, she could be very valuable. Also, the bits and pieces of information that she might have could be put together to gain some useful facts. This Fortress of Solitude, for instance...

"Stop, Harry Potter," said Sleepy. "Mistress is now being behind us." They had been flying for over two hours with Sleepy pointing the way. Their search was now over. Harry signaled the others and slowed into a sweeping turn, keeping an eye on Sleepy who continued to point at her mistress. When he had a good idea of the general area that they must be keeping her, he landed.

"She is near," said Harry when the others joined him. "Check the maps for Death Eaters or anyone else."

The checked and found no sign of anyone. This was to be expected; the maps would not show an unplottable location or anyone inside. Only the house elf magic allowed them to know that anything or anyone was near.

"Sleepy," said Harry, "come with me." He sat back on his broom but pulled on his invisibility cloak and had the elf join him underneath. "Keep pointing at McGonagall," he instructed. He flew almost perpendicularly to her arm but just a little towards the direction that she was pointing. He kept moving in until he was about one hundred yards from where the building must be located. That was a close as he dared get. He landed next to his wife and friends.

"She is somewhere around there," he said as he pointed towards a spot between a few trees. "According to my scar, Voldemort is with her." He looked at Ron and Hermione. He knew that they would follow him through the gates of hell and never regret it. He also knew that they were no match for Voldemort. Harry had only brought them to help plan and carry out an assault on a large fortification. There seemed to be no Death Eaters in the area. Secrecy and the charms placed on the building were the main defenses. He would soon take care of that.

"Hermione," he said. "Ron. This is a job for me. I don't want to say it but Voldemort will cut you down in an instant. The elves and I will perform the rescue. Wait here and take care of anything unexpected."

"Harry," said Hermione. "If you think I'm letting you risk your life alone, you have lost your mind."

"No," said Harry. "Voldemort is in there. Speed is our only chance. I will reducto the top of whatever building is there and hope that is enough to destroy the charms hiding it. I will then apparate in, find Minerva and get out as quickly as I can. I can't be looking around to see if you are safe. I will wear the invisibility cloak. It should give me a few seconds."

"Dumbledore could see through that cloak, Harry," said Ron. "I'll bet Voldemort can, too. We need to come up with something else." He looked frantic. His best friend was going to fight Voldemort and he should be at his side.

"A quick strike is our best bet," argued Harry. "If there are a lot more Death Eaters nearby, I'll apparate back out. Then we'll try something else."

"We only have one chance and you know it, Harry," said Hermione. "He'll kill her the moment he sees you."

"If I can hit him hard when I get in," said Harry, "it might distract him enough to give me time to grab Minerva and leave." He looked at the elves. "Can you guys maybe help with that? You know, just go in, hit them hard and then get out?"

Jumper and Sleepy looked at each other. "We can only be using offensive force to defend our Mistress. If she is being attacked when we is getting there, we can be stopping them. If she is not being attacked, we is only being able to defend ourselves, Harry Potter."

That didn't help much. Harry knew he needed someone who could throw a punch with him to pull this off. They also needed some power behind it.

"Harry Potter," said Dobby. "Dobby is being a free elf and Dobby is being able to help Harry Potter. Dobby will fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while Harry saves his friend." He looked nervous but did not back down.

"It will be dangerous, Dobby," said Harry, "but I know you are powerful. I will need just a few seconds. Can you keep him occupied that long without getting hurt?"

"Dobby will do his best, Harry Potter," said Dobby.

"Very well, Dobby," said Harry. He knew that Dobby would not fail him. Turning to the rest, he said, "Dobby and I will enter as soon as possible. If there are many Death Eaters, take out as many as you can safely and then have the elves get you back to Hogwarts. We will meet at the hospital wing. If there are very few Death Eaters, try to stay here in case we need cover for our escape. In any case, hang on to either Jumper or Sleepy."

"Harry," said Ron, "this might be too dangerous. If Voldemort is there with a lot of his best Death Eaters, just get out. McGonagall wouldn't want you to be killed trying to save her."

"Don't worry," said Harry. "Dobby is with me. Besides," he added, looking towards Hermione, "I want to try out your birthday present tonight."

"I love you, Harry," said Hermione, tears filling her eyes. "Don't do anything stupid."

"You mean like burst in on Voldemort with a wand in one hand and an elf in the other?" he asked, smiling.

"Something like that," she replied. They kissed briefly. Neither wanted it to signify a "last kiss".

"Remember," said Harry, "If there are a lot of Death Eaters, take out what you can and then get out." Turning towards Sleepy, he said, "If you sense your Mistress back in Hogwarts, take everyone back to the infirmary right away."

"Yes, Harry Potter," she said. Sleepy took Hermione's hand and Jumper took Ron's.

"Dobby?" asked Harry. He held out his left hand and the elf took it. "I'm not ordering you to do this, you understand?"

"Dobby is a free elf thanks to Harry Potter," said Dobby. "Dobby is deciding to help Harry Potter save his friend."

"Thanks, Dobby," said Harry. "You are my friend, too, so be careful."

Dobby looked back and said, "Dobby is ready to fight with his great friend, Harry Potter."

Harry summoned all his love for Hermione, Ron, Minerva and even Dobby and cast a powerful reducto about ten feet over where he expected the foundation of the house to be.

Voldemort and Lestrange were both knocked to the floor by the powerful blast. Bits of glass and chunks of plaster fell all around them. Voldemort leaped to his feet and considered his options. He could fight or flee. A beam from the ceiling fell on the ground next to him. The house was being destroyed. Before he think his next thought, Harry Potter and an elf were standing before him.

"Potter!" he cried, pulling his wand. "Avada ahhh!" He shrieked in pain as the elf attacked. He had not felt that sort of power in a long time.

Harry was momentarily stunned at seeing his arch foe feet away from him.

"Hurry, Harry!" shouted Dobby, struggling in his battle.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Bellatrix, aiming at Harry but being distracted by her Master's battle. It missed him by a whisker but shattered the wall on the other side of the room.

Harry returned fire with a septum sempra that took Bellatrix's left hand. She screamed in pain and rage. Harry severed the bonds holding down McGonagall.

Voldemort called out, "Bella!" while holding off the resilient elf.

Bellatrix decided that her Master needed her and shouted, "Plasma cauterus!" at Dobby. It hit.

"Reducto," shouted Harry and blew Bellatrix Lestrange's head off of her shoulders. He then swung around at Voldemort. It was just a split second later but Voldemort had rolled out of his anti-apparition zone and was gone.

"Accio Dobby!" shouted Harry. The elf flew into his arms. Grabbing McGonagall by her arm, he apparated back to Hogwarts.

Author's note again: At least they are back home.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34 - Funeral for a Great Friend

September 21st, 1997

"Poppy!"

Harry had fallen to the floor with Dobby held in his left arm and a suddenly unsupported McGonagall being held in his right hand. He tried to cushion her fall with his body but only managed to keep her from slamming her head against the floor.

Madam Pomfrey jumped up from her chair and ran towards the pile of witch, wizard and elf. She almost collided with Winky, who appeared a moment later. She was at Dobby's side and was cradling him in her arms as she cried in anguish.

"What is happening to Dobby?" she demanded. Dobby was gasping great quantities of air but his skin was turning darker and darker as if he were suffocating.

Pomfrey didn't know who to help first. Her first instinct was to help her old friend, Minerva. A moment's observation was enough for her to know that a few seconds wouldn't matter that much with the witch but the elf was dying. She turned to Harry and asked, "What happened to this elf?" Dobby was unable to talk but had grasped Winky's hand.

"Bellatrix hit him with some sort of a spell. Plasma something. I never heard of it.", he replied.

"Plasma cauterus," she said, in shock. She stopped working on Dobby and held his free hand. "I'm sorry, Dobby." Dobby looked at her and nodded his understanding. He then put his arms around Winky, pulling her closer to him, all the while vainly trying to get oxygen into his system.

"Help him, Poppy!" ordered Harry. Madam Pomfrey could cure anything. Why wasn't she helping Dobby.

"His blood has been thickened beyond usefulness," she said. "There isn't anything I can do." As she spoke, Dobby's breathing slowed for two last breaths and then stopped.

"Dobby!" shouted Winky. She began crying in earnest, her earlier efforts just a warm-up.

A series of apparition pops announced the arrival of the rest of the rescue team. Hermione screamed when she saw them all on the floor with McGonagall looking like she had been dragged back. She stopped a moment later when Winky's wails registered.

Harry said, "Poppy. Take care of Minerva." The death of the elf was a shock but it would be meaningless if Minerva died, too.

Pomfrey crawled the two feet to the side of Minerva McGonagall. She cast first one, then several diagnosis spells before declaring, "She is injured beyond my abilities to help." She then looked at Harry and said, "Take us to St. Mungo's."

Harry nodded, and without pause for further words to anyone, apparated the three of them to the hospital.

They arrived in the lobby of St. Mungo's. Pomfrey went immediately to the desk and quickly had them summon the appropriate healers. She then returned and helped some healer's assistants put McGonagall's still unconscious body on a floating stretcher. Harry was still holding Minerva's hand when she was ready to be taken to the emergency healing room.

Harry waited outside while Pomfrey consulted with the healers on duty. She then joined him in the hallway.

"She is very badly injured, Harry," said Poppy. "What on earth happened to her?"

"She was kidnaped and tortured by Voldemort, Poppy," replied Harry. "Bellatrix Lestrange was with him. When we got there, Dobby held off Voldemort while I freed Minerva. Bellatrix hit Dobby with that curse." He started to sob in his grief but finished, "I killed her but Voldemort got away." He cried for several more seconds before adding, "Dobby went in with me intending to fight Voldemort. He went willingly to save her." He looked Poppy in the eye and asked, "Is Minerva going to die, too?"

Poppy had started crying when she heard that Minerva was tortured by Voldemort and nothing Harry had said had helped her stop. She had performed the diagnostic spells herself. It didn't look good. The only thing that might save her life was the quickness of the treatment. Only time would tell, however, if she would live. What could she tell Harry?

"I don't know, Harry." She had decided on the truth. "She has very severe injuries to her internal organs and nervous system. The healers will do what they can but she is not so very young, anymore." She couldn't continue for the time being.

"She must live," said Harry, resolutely. "I will not lose two friends, tonight." He had regained control of himself.

"It will be quite a while before they are done with her and some time more before anything is known," said Poppy. "You should go take care of your friend." She didn't want to lose his comfort but he had more pressing draws on his presence right now.

Harry thought about that and agreed. He was Winky's master and she needed him. With a promise to return, he apparated back to the hospital wing.

No one was there. He looked around for a note. Seeing none, he almost called for Winky but changed his mind. She didn't need him interfering with her grief right now with a common order. He thought a moment and said, "Jumper."

Jumper appeared and asked, "What is Harry Potter needing?" He also seemed a little more emotional than normal but he was too much of a professional to show it much.

"Where did everyone go, Jumper," asked Harry.

"Those who is being on the trip to save Mistress is being in your rooms, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "Winky is being there, too."

"Thank you, Jumper," said Harry. He apparated to his sitting room. Jumper followed.

Immediately, Winky's crying caused him to almost lose it again, himself. Dobby was on the table as if lying in state. Winky was sitting by him, still holding his hand while Hermione sat next to her with her arm around her. Ron and Sleepy sat nearby on a couch. Ron got up when he saw Harry.

"What happened with McGonagall?" he asked. This had been a hard afternoon for him as well. All he thought about were the times that he had caused the Headmistress grief. He also remembered that the last thing she had done was find a way for him to be with the woman with whom he was quickly falling in love. Jumper also joined the group, seeking the answer to the same question.

"There was a lot of damage done," said Harry, quietly. "She is being treated now but Poppy says it could still go either way."

"We have to go to her," said Ron. He made as if to get his cloak.

"We have to take care of Dobby, first," said Harry. He went over and sat on the other side of Winky. She saw her master and made as if to stand.

"That's OK, Winky," said Harry, like Hermione, putting his hand on her arm to comfort her. "Dobby was very brave and fought Voldemort himself to help me save the Headmistress. I am very sad that he died but very proud of his courage."

Winky grabbed Harry around the chest and hugged him as best she could. She then said, "Dobby is dying in the service of his greatest friend. He is being happy he could help Harry Potter in his need." She was still crying but had felt the pride in her friend the same as Harry.

They sat in silence for a few moments longer before Harry asked, "What is to become of him, now?" The only time he had experienced the aftereffects of the death of an elf was when he had seen the house elf heads on the wall at Grimmauld Place.

Jumper said, "The disposal of a dead elf is being left to their master."

"Dobby has no master," said Harry, proudly. Dobby was never ashamed of his status and neither was he.

"Winky is thinking that Harry Potter is being as close to being the master of Dobby than anyone," said Winky. "It should be up to Harry Potter on what is being done to Dobby."

Harry couldn't argue the point. Since being freed, Dobby had never let him down. His last act was total selflessness in aiding him. "I will have to think on this a while," he said. He had no idea on what to do. The only funeral he had ever witnessed was that of Dumbledore. He then thought that he really needed to talk to his old mentor.

"I need to go talk to someone for a bit," he said, rising. Hermione started to follow but Harry said, "No, Hermione. Please stay with Winky. I won't be long."

Hermione nodded and sat back down. Harry apparated to the office of the Fortress.

No one was there except the elves on duty. Martha didn't work Sunday nights. She was either in her flat or had been visiting Hogsmead that afternoon. She was not the one that Harry came to see, though. Remus and Tonks were not immediately available, either. They were probably interrogating the new prisoners but they were not with Jordy in cell 27. They were not the people he came to see, either. The portrait of Dumbledore, fortunately, was occupied.

Harry looked at his smiling face and broke down again.

"Harry," asked Grampa, "what's the matter?" He had shifted from his usual merry self to total concern. "Is it Minerva?" He seemed to be getting very distraught.

"No," said Harry. "She's in St. Mungo's although she might not make it, either."

Harry was alone and that worried Grampa. "Either" could mean anyone.

"What has happened?" he asked.

"Dobby is dead," said Harry. He had to choke back more tears as he said it but he didn't break down again.

"Dobby?" asked Grampa. Then, in a calm voice, he said, "Tell me what happened."

Harry described the entire search and rescue of McGonagall. He told how he needed a great power to accompany him into the lions den and how Dobby had volunteered. He finished with a glowing report on Dobby's battle with Voldemort and Bellatrix's spell.

"Your friend died a hero's death in a noble cause, Harry," said Grampa. "That is more than I can say. You came for advice or counsel, Harry. How can I help?" He waited patiently.

"It has been passed to me to decide how to properly honor Dobby and to find a place for his body to rest," said Harry. "I came to ask what might be appropriate for a house elf but now I need different information."

Grampa considered him. "I see you have decided what to do. What information can I provide?"

"Where is Godric's Hollow?"

September 21st, 1997

Later that evening

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Madam Pomfrey and Assistant Headmistress Sprout all waited outside of Headmistress McGonagall's room until the healers had finished with their latest examination. When they finally emerged, they seemed surprised at the reception committee.

"How is Minerva," asked Poppy, at once. They all gathered around to hear.

"I am not sure that so many people should be apprised of her condition, Poppy," said the eldest healer, "especially students." He turned for a moment towards Harry and crew before returning his attention to the nurse.

"These students are the ones who rescued her from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," said Poppy, hotly. "And this is Assistant Headmistress Sprout. Minerva would not feel uncomfortable in any of us knowing of her health, Gordon."

Gordon Jones had coincidentally been in Poppy's year while they attended Hogwarts. They had pursued the same career along differing paths for forty years and had many interactions along the way. He knew that he could trust her judgement. "Very well, Poppy," he began. "She has lost her left foot at the ankle. It was totally dead and had to be removed. From what I hear, you should be able to take care of that yourself." He had heard rumors of her newfound abilities but wasn't interested in discussing it at this time. "She has also had major damage done to her lungs and spleen due to several broken ribs. It appears that the cruciatus curse was used repeatedly. There is a large amount of nerve damage from this. There was also some swelling of the brain from trauma to the head although that seems to have subsided a little. We don't yet know about any mental impairment since she has yet to awaken. All in all, she is lucky to be alive at all. At least I hope she is lucky. That, too, is up in the air for the time being."

The whole group from Hogwarts stood as if struck dumb. To have so much damage at her age was very serious. If she lived, recovery could take months, if not years.

Finally, Pomfrey said, "Thank you, Gordon. We will stay in touch. May we see her now?"

"Of course, Poppy," said Healer Jones as he stood to the side. They all filed into the dimly lit room.

Minerva McGonagall looked for all the world like she died last week. If not for her shallow breathing, they would have thought her dead. Even so, her cheeks were sunken and her teeth clenched as if in pain. Many had been broken out, of course. The minor bruises had been treated but the majority of her wounds would need to heal a little on their own with the help of a few well chosen spells. A pink ooze seeped out of her ears even now. They had to shave part of her head to clearly see the best way to treat her scull fractures. It was her skin, though, that disturbed them the most. What they could see was covered in something that looked like black varicose veins. This was where the nerves were damaged by the cruciatus curse. If they were able to heal themselves, she might recover. Under the blanket were her two legs. One was now obviously shorter than the other and had no foot.

All of them except for Harry were crying silently. Harry had used up his tears for the day. He felt determined that Minerva would live. If only he could do something.

After a short time, they decided that they could be of no use to her while she was unconscious and they returned to Hogwarts via the floo.

That night, Harry held Hermione close to him as they lay in their bed. He didn't use the special slots in her gown that they had been joking about just that morning. He was just laying there, thinking of Dobby. It was strange, really. He just couldn't believe he was gone.

"Have you decided what to do?" she asked. He would know what she was talking about.

"Yes," he replied. "I was just thinking about him. These last few months, I had really come to depend on Dobby. Look at how much he has done for us." He let his mind drift over the entire time since they boarded the train home last June.

"I know," she agreed. "Even I was letting him help us more and more. And Winky, too."

"Is Mistress wanting something?" asked Winky. She had appeared wearing the nightgown that Dobby had insisted she wear for their "pajama breakfast".

"We were just talking about how much Dobby has meant to us and your name came up, Winky," said Hermione. She knew that Dobby meant a lot to Winky, too. "Do you need someone to talk to?"

"Winky is a good house elf that has her work to keep her happy," replied Winky. She didn't sound as convinced as usual.

"Winky," said Harry, "I know that you and Dobby were very close. It's alright to feel sad that he has died. It's also alright to remember the fun times you had together. It will make you feel better."

"Winky is remembering that just this morning Dobby and his Winky is eating breakfast with Harry Potter and Mistress with their friends," said Winky. "That is being a very good time with Dobby, Harry Potter."

"Yes, it was," agreed Harry. "Winky, tomorrow I will be taking Dobby home to be with my family. He has earned the right to rest with them until we are all together again. Please let any of the other elves know that they are welcome to come see him off."

"Winky will be honored to do that, Harry Potter," she said, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "Dobby is being proud to rest with the family of Harry Potter." With that, she started to cry for real.

"Winky?" asked Hermione. "I hate to bother you right now but you said Dobby and his Winky. Were you two more than friends?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky. "House elves are free only to choose their mates. It is not usually being spoken to except to other elves. We keeps our own secrets."

"You were married?" asked Harry. He never knew that.

"We is being married when we is both working at Hogwarts, Master," she answered.

"I'm so sorry," said Harry. He then added, "I mean I'm sorry that your husband died. Not sorry that you were married, Winky." He really didn't like how that had come out. Winky didn't seem to notice.

"Thank you, Master," she said. "Winky is being proud of her Dobby and is remembering him always."

"I will remember him, too, Winky," said Harry. "Thank you for telling us this and goodnight."

"Goodnight, Master," said Winky. "Goodnight, Mistress." With a pop, she was gone.

"When did you decide where to bury Dobby?" asked Hermione.

"When I went to talk with Grandpa," answered Harry. I thought of his funeral and it just sort of came to me where Dobby should be."

"It's sad that we never new they were married until after he died," said Hermione.

"It saved McGonagall," said Harry. "I don't know if I would have let him go if I had known."

They both were silent with their thoughts.

He snuggled up against her and they both fell asleep.

September 22nd, 1997

Harry had just returned from checking in with Martha down in the Fortress. She was, like a lot of people, torn between the loss of Dobby and the rescue of McGonagall. The trade-off would be a good one in most people's minds; a house elf for a headmistress. Actually, it was a house elf for five captured and five (including Lestrange) dead Death Eaters plus rescuing Minerva. The more you knew Dobby, the less clear it became who got the better end of the deal. For Martha, Dobby was one of the first people to help her out after Harry rescued her. He had been working under Harry's orders but he really seemed like he wanted to do a good job for her and the other girl's sake. They had also worked together when shopping for her furniture. She would miss him.

Harry was looking for Professor Sprout to inform her that he, Hermione and Ron would be leaving for a while to attend Dobby's funeral. If McGonagall were well, Honey would also probably be joining them. As it was, she needed to be in class since there was no one to replace her. He found her in the hall way and walked up to her. Oddly, she had also been looking for him.

"Good morning, Harry," she said. Like Honey, and unlike Minerva, she preferred first names. "I've been looking for you."

"Good morning, Professor," replied Harry. "I've been looking for you, too. I have to attend a funeral this morning along with Ron and Hermione. I would expect we will be back by lunch time."

"I understand, Harry," she replied. "It is because of the funeral that I was sent to find you."

"Sent?" asked Harry. "Who sent you?"

"Professor Dumbledore," she answered. "He apparently heard about Dobby's assistance in the rescue of Minerva. They were great friends as you are aware. Anyway, he wanted to honor Dobby for saving her. He asked me to give you this for your elf." She handed him a small package.

Harry opened it up to find one of Dumbledore's Order of Merlin - First Class medals. "Thank you, Professor," said Harry. "I'm sure that Dobby would appreciate this very much." He put the medal in his pocket next to the other one he had retrieved from the trophy case.

His brief encounter with Professor Sprout turned his mind to other things that Dobby might like with him. He didn't want to bother her right now but he had no choice.

"Winky," said Harry. He waited. She wasn't quite as responsive as normal but he could understand that.

"Yes, Master," she replied, a few seconds later.

"It is almost time for Dobby's funeral but there are a few things that we will need first," he explained. Harry then told her what it was that he needed her to find in Dobby's room and she agreed that he would like that.

At nine o'clock, breakfast was over and the house elves would have a few minutes free time. Harry, Hermione and Ron had changed into dress robes.

"So, Harry?" asked Ron. "How are we getting to Godric's Hollow if you've never been there before?" Harry had told them both of his plans.

"Grampa said that it is within apparating distance of Hogwarts and Remus should be able to side-along me there," he replied. "Winky, Jumper and Sleepy can then bring the two of you and Tonks."

"Are you going to be OK, Harry?" asked Hermione. "This will be the first time you've seen your parent's graves, too." She felt that Harry had had enough of an emotional ride the last twenty-four hours and didn't really need to have his past tossed in as well.

"It's time I visited them," said Harry. "I might be able to leave all of my ghosts behind once I confront them."

Hermione thought she knew what he was saying but remained silent.

They arrived at the entrance to the castle. Tonks and Remus were waiting for them.

"Good morning, everyone," said Remus. "Are you ready, Harry?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "Jumper. Sleepy. Could you come here, please?"

Both elves appeared together. Harry had already spoken to them about their part and they were expecting his call. "Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper, speaking for them both. "We is being ready to be taking your friends to Dobby's funeral."

"Thank you, both of you," said Harry. "Winky."

Winky appeared. She was dressed in a tea towel, as usual, but it was a new one with gold stitching and embroidery. "Yes, Master," she said. "What can Winky be doing for Master?"

"Winky," Harry began, "My friend Remus will be taking me to the graveyard where my parents are buried. When we get there, could you please bring Hermione? Jumper and Sleepy will bring Ron and Tonks."

"Yes, Master," said Winky. "I is bringing Mistress when you is being at the graveyard." She was controlling her tears and having a job to do seemed to help.

"Very well," said Harry. "After we all arrive and prepare a place, I will return for Dobby." Dobby was still on their table in the Head's Suite with a sheet covering him.

Harry and Remus walked to the gates of Hogwarts. From there, Remus apparated them to the Potter graveyard in Godric's Hollow.

Harry looked around. They were in a very old cemetery in a quite rustic part of Scotland. The ruins of a church or chapel were nearby but they had fallen in on themselves centuries before. He wanted to spend an hour just looking around but they had other work to do today.

After a few seconds, they heard the arrival of the rest of their group. The elves, with the exception of Winky, removed themselves to the side of the action. Winky held on to Hermione's hand.

"Where are my parents?" asked Harry, looking at the graves.

"They are over here, under these trees," said Remus. He led Harry to a pair of oaks that shaded a large monument. It was then that Harry noticed that most of the residents of this place were in tombs, not graves. His parents, having died together, shared a single tomb. Harry found comfort that they would have no stone or dirt separating them forever. Oddly, he found himself wishing for the same for Hermione and him.

After a few moments of contemplation at the tomb of his parents, Harry looked around the surrounding area until he found what he was looking for. He pointed his wand at a large granite boulder stuck halfway in the hillside and brought it over to sit to the left of his parents tomb. He split it into two pieces. He then concentrated on the first piece while uttering the spells he had learned from the witch lying in St. Mungo's. It transfigured into a raised platform with a lower ledge all the way around. The second piece, lay waiting.

"Winky," he said. "Do you have the socks?"

"Yes, Master," replied Winky. She produced a box from thin air that was, indeed, full of socks.

"Thank you, Winky," said Harry. He arranged the assorted garish socks on the top of the plinth. There were enough of them to form a soft cushion. He stopped when he found the sock that he had used to free Dobby. He set that one aside and finished with the rest.

"Jumper," he said, "I will go and return with Dobby's body. Please inform any of the other elves that we are ready to begin." With that, he apparated back to his rooms in Hogwarts.

Dobby was there, of course, waiting for him. He took a breath and removed the sheet. To his surprise, he found Dobby wearing a matching tea cloth to Winky's. She had prepared him in the night, it seemed. He smiled and picked up his friend. He apparated back to the graveyard and set him on the bed of socks.

By this time, dozens of house elves filled the entire area. Harry summoned his collection of spare chairs for his friends and whatever elves were brave enough to sit. As far as he could see, only Winky fit that category. When those choosing to sit had sat, he cleared his throat and began.

He started facing not the mourners but his parent's tomb. Speaking clearly, so all could here, he said, "Mom? Dad? I'm glad to finally see where you have been my whole life. I'll be back later for a visit but I've brought someone to be with you, now. His name is Dobby and he is a great friend who has earned the right to rest with my family." He turned around to face the living.

"On behalf of Dobby, I would like to thank all of you who have taken the time to join us in laying him to rest." He noticed that there was no chorus of "You're welcomes". Jumper must have explained the proper way to listen in a large group. He went on. "As you know, I am not Dobby's owner. Dobby was a free elf. He was last owned by Lucius Malfoy who treated him very badly. I know how loyal Dobby was as well as all of you. If any elf wanted to be free, it was only due to extreme conditions that the elves of Hogwarts have been fortunate enough to have never experienced. I ask you all here today to not judge Dobby further for his wishes."

"Even though he had a master, he was able to help me and warn me of great danger. With his help, the basilisk that had lived in the school for a thousand years was found and destroyed. It was just after this that I was able to have Malfoy give Dobby this sock to free him." Harry held up the sock so all could see. He then turned and placed it in Dobby's hands, folded over his chest.

"Off and on for the next few years, Dobby has helped me with tasks big and small. He worked for a time at Hogwarts until this last June, when we made our agreement that he would work for me. Although he remained a free elf, his service was of the highest level. I never had to worry about any task that I assigned to Dobby." Harry was trying to keep in mind that work was the center of the universe to a house elf so he kept his comments in that framework when he could. "He built much of the Fortress of Solitude, where many of you now continue with our efforts to bring down Lord Voldemort. He took care of our prisoners. He worked with Remus and the Weasley twins on the detector maps. In fact, it was he, using one of those very maps, that helped save the students this summer on the Hogwarts Express. I received a medal for that but I believe Dobby is equally deserving of it." He took the Order of Merlin - First Class that he had received from Minister Scrimgeour and placed it around Dobby's neck. The elves looked on in wonder at this. If an elf received a "good job", it was a high honor. No elf ever had this kind of official recognition.

"Dobby didn't care about how great or small a job was," continued Harry in his work related theme. "While I was recovering, he cheerfully took me around the castle. He helped to make a simple present for my wife her greatest treasure. He was my assistant in almost everything I did. It will be a long time before my first response to solve a problem won't be to call out his name." The elves were very moved by this glowing appraisal of Dobby's worth to his almost master. They stopped thinking of him as a freedom loving freak and wondered if they matched his standards.

"The last thing that Dobby did for me was willingly choose to fight Lord Voldemort. When we went in to save Headmistress McGonagall, we knew he was there. Voldemort was halfway through the spell that would kill me when Dobby attacked. He gave me enough time to free your Mistress but was struck down in doing so. We made our escape but Dobby died soon after in the arms of his greatest friend and wife, Winky." Winky started to sob again and buried her head in Hermione's chest.

"I spoke about this to the portrait of Professor Dumbledore. He was, as you know, a great friend of Minerva McGonagall. He said that Dobby died a hero's death in a noble cause. He felt that this could sometimes be a worthy sacrifice. If your Mistress lives, then his death will not be in vain. Professor Dumbledore wished to also acknowledge his courage." Harry took out the second Order of Merlin and placed it around Dobby's neck. The elves were even more astounded by this gesture of respect. The two greatest wizards they new, Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore had both honored Dobby.

"I know I will miss him more than I can imagine," he concluded. "I will finish the tomb in a moment. If anyone wishes to see him one last time or say anything, please come forward."

Hermione helped Winky to her feet. The small elf was young and strong but she seemed frail at the moment. With trembling legs, she walked over to the base upon which Dobby lay. She looked lovingly at him and kissed him goodbye. Sobbing silently, she walked back to her chair.

The other humans walked by and paid their respects followed by the elves. They had only witnessed brief funerals in the past for their kind and a tribute like this was a little overwhelming to them. They made their way by Dobby and many had a kind word for Winky. After about ten minutes, they had all returned to their places.

Harry turned his attention to the second half of the boulder. With a good visualization of what he wanted in his mind, the original being almost directly next to him, he transfigured the granite into a form he had seen around him. He made a granite representation of Dobby as he now was, complete with the sock cushion, medals around his neck and, his greatest treasure, his freedom sock in his hands. Dobby would forever be free.

He then levitated the hollow stone over the body of Dobby and lowered it into place, sealing him in his tomb. He finished with the lettering on the side.

Dobby

Beloved Husband

Great Friend

Winky said, "Thank you, Master. Dobby is being in good company until his Winky can join him."

"I'm glad we could find a place worthy of him," said Harry. "Let him rest now in peace."

They apparated back to the school in time for the elves to prepare lunch. Although there was time, for the first time in her life, Hermione decided to skip class when she didn't have a real reason to do so. She, Harry and Ron went to the courtyard and sat on a bench. She just wanted to sit down and think about what had happened since yesterday and come to some sort of a conclusion. She didn't get the chance.

"There you are," said Madam Pomfrey. She walked over and sat next to them. "I just received word from Gordon. Minerva's body is starting to shut down. He said there was just too much damage."

Author's Note: Well THAT was a depressing chapter to write. The next one might be better.

Dad


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35 - Minerva goes home

September 22nd, 1997

Harry had no idea how it happened. He was sitting next to Hermione and the next thing he knew, he was standing at the foot of McGonagall's bed. He must have just arrived because the healer's assistant was gently stroking her bruised face with a cloth smelling of a strange but pungent potion. She turned to soak the rag again and saw Harry.

"Bloody hell!" she screamed. Then calmer, but still surprised, "How did you get in here?" She had her hand in the bowl of potion but didn't seem to notice.

"I have no idea," said Harry, honestly. "How is Minerva?" He walked to the side of the Headmistress not occupied by the nurse.

"She's fading," said the witch, also honestly. "She might be gone by morning." She went back to her ministrations.

"Is there nothing that can be done?"

"There are limits to our arts. If you had come just a little later, she would have died, already." She had finally recognized Harry and knew that he had been one of the people who had brought her.

Harry looked around the room. There was a single window looking out over a back alley of a row of retail stores. Harry knew what had to be done.

"I'm sorry, miss. I know you have done your best." He picked up the bowl from Minerva's chest and handed it to the nurse.

"We both have, Mr. Potter." She took the bowl; sensing what was to come. "Where will you take her?"

"I'll take her home to die. I'll take her home to Hogwarts." He removed the covers from over her and picked up her surprisingly light body. Turning back to the nurse he asked, "What is your name?" He waited for her reply.

"Laura," she answered.

"Tell them not to worry anymore about Minerva, Laura. She is going home."

Laura nodded and stroked McGonagall's hair one last time and then stepped aside.

Harry thought for a moment and then apparated to the beech tree near the lake. Without setting her down, he conjured a couch that he had added to his available collection. He positioned it so that it faced Hogwarts. The showers of yesterday had left the world clean and fresh and the sun filtered through the leaves in a shimmering pattern. He set her on the couch and covered her with his cloak. He then sat down with her and laid her head in his lap and thought that she seemed to relax a bit, as if she knew by smell or sound or some inner voice that she was home. Her teeth unclenched and a few of the creases in her brow faded a bit.

Harry sat for a while, just stroking her hair before he realized that he was being selfish. "Dob." He stopped himself, not for the last time, he expected. Winky was on a day off, whether she knew it or not so he went to the next elf that came to mind. "Sleepy," he said to the air.

Sleepy appeared next to him and asked, "What is" before she saw who he was with. "Oh, Mistress Minerva," she cried, coming close to hugging her but stopping herself in time. Turning to Harry, she asked, "Why is Mistress here, Harry Potter? Why isn't she being in the hospital?" She looked a little vexed with Harry.

"They can't help her there, anymore," replied Harry. "I thought she would prefer to wait here." He hoped she didn't need further explanation.

Sleepy looked at Minerva and thought deeply. "It is the same as when Mistress Minerva's Magnus is being very sick." Looking at Harry, she explained. "I is helping Mistress when Mistress' husband is being sick and not getting better. We is sitting together many nights with him. Mistress said Mistress' husband is too sick and he is wanting to be coming home to be dying." A tear dropped from her eye as she remembered. "It took a long time but Sleepy is staying with Mistress until the end."

Harry nodded in understanding. "That's why you were able to find her when no one else could. You had shared something very personal together and that formed a link." He smiled at the elf and was about to ask her to find Ron and Hermione when they were joined by another.

With a flash of crimson and gold, Fawkes appeared on the back of the couch. He was as beautiful as ever and he looked down on the witch and cried. The tears fell on her face and head and the bruises and cuts were washed away. Harry felt a rush of hope and gratitude fill him like never before. Fawkes would be able to cure Minerva! He eagerly produced a handkerchief and caught some of the precious drops and used them to wipe all around her head and neck.

Minerva coughed a bit and opened her now healed eyes. The first sight she saw was her beloved school on the hill. She was still in great pain but her happiness was greater. She sat up suddenly and said, "Hogwarts." The exertion was too much, however, and she winced in pain. She was about to lie back down when she noticed in whose lap she had been laying.

"Harry," she said softly, "you came for me." She had tears of her own now. The pain was increasing but her happiness did not fade. She looked back at Hogwarts and said, "Thank you for bringing me here before the end." She relaxed a bit but her gaze remained fixed.

"It's not the end, Minerva." Harry was almost shouting in happiness. "Fawkes can..." He looked at the bird as he said his name and was drawn into his eyes. Fawkes was communicating with him in the same manner he had with Dumbledore. No words were used, either mental or otherwise, but Harry knew what the message was. Minerva could not be healed by Fawkes. The bruises and cuts and exposed broken bones might be repaired but the greater internal damage was beyond his reach. Harry could see that the spider web of nerve damage was untouched. She was still going to die. This was but a momentary reprieve.

"No, Fawkes!" shouted Harry. Dobby had not died for a just a few moments before her death. All they had done was to save her, not just comfort her. He looked pleadingly in the bird's eye. Fawkes turned to look at Dumbledore's tomb and then back to Harry. No thought was evident for a full minute. Then the terrible image of what must happen if Minerva was to be saved flooded into his mind. He could almost feel the pain that he would have to endure but Fawkes also reassured him that he would live. The end result, of course, no one could tell.

Beads of sweat formed on Harry's face in the cool fall air. He had not been this afraid before he burst in on Voldemort. Would he have the courage to finish the rescue of Minerva. He, like Fawkes before him, looked at the tomb across the lake. He was holding the woman who would have given him her love if only they had dared. His mind wandered to another tomb holding a dear friend who had also not turned aside when it was safer to do so. He let Fawkes know that he would do what was necessary but would need to get some help.

"Sleepy," he said. "Please bring Ron and Hermione here." He said no more and the elf popped away. Harry tried to decide what he would tell them.

A few seconds later, Hermione and Ron were standing under the tree as they had done many times before. Harry summoned them each a chair as they took in the sight before them.

"Harry," said Hermione. "Do you think it was wise to take her out of the hospital?" She didn't look like she thought so.

"Yes," said Harry. "She should die here if that is her fate, but that is not why you are here."

This took both Hermione and Ron by surprise so they waited for an explanation.

"Fawkes can't heal her directly. His tears are only good for cuts and bruises and sometimes broken bones but not much else. She will still die if she is not helped further. Fawkes and I can do that."

"So what are you waiting for?" asked Ron. "If you know what to do, let's get cracking."

Harry's face paled. He was having a hard time summoning the strength to tell them of his plan. How could he hope to follow through with it? Ignoring Ron's question, he turned to Hermione. "I have to ask my wife's permission. This will be painful but I will not die." He waited for her.

"How painful are we talking about?" she asked with a sideways glance.

"How painful can you imagine?" asked Harry in reply. "Fawkes said that we would have to merge together. Then I could use my love to magnify his powers and heal her whole body. It is her only chance."

"How would you merge with Fawkes?" asked Hermione. She was putting the characteristics of the phoenix together with something that would be frightenly painful and came to a conclusion that she didn't like. She hoped that Harry had a better one.

"I would have to share a burning with him. When it is over, his essence would be combined with mine until his next burning time. That is usually two or three years."

Hermione closed her eyes. "That's the unimaginable pain you were talking about? Burning? Oh, Harry." She looked down at Minerva who surprised her by looking back.

"Harry," said the Headmistress, "I can not allow you to risk yourself on my account. Who knows what could go wrong?"

"You are not aware, Minerva," said Harry, "but we have already risked and lost more than a little discomfort because we love you. Dobby fought Voldemort with fearlessness, buying me the time to save you. His funeral was this morning. I owe it to him as well as you to finish this."

Minerva was silent. She had known Dobby, of course, but he was not her personal friend. She did know that he was intensely loyal to Harry. The story of how he had ended up fighting Voldemort would have to wait, however. "It would seem that you have already done far too much for this old woman, Harry," she said. "However, in memory of your friend, I will not try to persuade you further."

She had said all of this without lifting her head from his lap. It was obvious that she was using too much energy arguing with him. Harry decided.

"Hermione," he said. "We are married and this will affect us both. I would like to do this but only if you agree."

Hermione sighed. "What can I do?"

Harry smiled and said, "Go back and wait for me at the school. I don't want you to see this."

"Harry, I'm your wife," she returned.

"If I remember correctly," said Harry with a smirk on his face, "there was something about obeying your husband."

Hermione didn't think it was funny. She finally said, "I don't remember that part too well but there was also a better or worse section that applies so I guess you win." She bent over and gave him a kiss. This one, like the one from yesterday, was not a kiss goodbye. "How will I know when to return?" she asked.

"How should I know?" he asked, honestly. "I'll send Sleepy for you."

Hermione nodded and started to walk back to the school.

After she was out of earshot, Ron said, "I notice that you don't seem to mind if I stick around."

"Moral support," said Harry. He nodded meaningfully at Minerva on his lap and asked, "Sleepy? Could you look after Minerva while I am busy?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Sleepy, of course. "I will be watching over her." Harry, with Ron and Sleepy's help, lifted McGonagall's head off of his lap and he got up. Sleepy took his place and Minerva seemed to find this comforting. Harry motioned towards a clump of trees near the lake. They walked over.

"Ron," said Harry in a hushed tone. "I will be burned over my entire body. It will only last until I merge with Fawkes and can heal myself but the pain will be very real. According to Fawkes, it will be best if I am in the water. That will help cool me down fast when it is over. I might pass out so stand ready to pull me out if you need to. Just don't do anything until the fires are all out."

"Thanks for sharing this with me," said Ron, trying to inject a little humor into the situation. Then, in a serious tone, "I won't let you down, mate." He waited for the next step.

Harry stepped behind the trees and removed all of his clothes. He took special care with his socks; they were the ones that Dobby had knitted for him his fourth year. He wore them today in memory of his friend. Finally, he entered the water and called to Fawkes.

Fawkes flew over and hovered over Harry. He then began to fly around him in a tight circle. It grew tighter and tighter as Fawkes increased his speed. At some point, Fawkes' feathers shone brighter than should have been possible from just sunlight; he was starting to burn. Harry stood still in the water for all of this, just his chest and head above the surface. Suddenly, his hair burst into flame and he started to scream. He felt as if he had been thrown into the fireplace of the Great Hall. He could feel his flesh charring and then becoming brittle. His eyes felt as if a whole beach of hot sand was being rubbed into them. He was a human torch now and the flames of his own body were searing his lungs. It was now no longer possible to scream but he was trying. The water meant nothing to this heat and he was on the verge of passing out when it started to diminish. He could feel an inner glow that burned brighter than the fire. It was a magical flame that consumed the ordinary. He felt his head go underwater as he became disoriented. He was cooling down. For an instant, he was afraid of drowning in his unseeing state. Then he felt a strong hand grab him under his arms. He was above the water again and able to breathe normally. He opened his eyes and saw a very white faced Ron looking closely at him. He managed a smile.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," he muttered. He almost fell again but Ron wouldn't let that happen.

"Harry!" shouted Ron. "I never want to see that again as long as I live." He was sobbing now, although it was over. To watch your best friend burst into flames is not something you can prepare for.

Harry was feeling better now. "I hate to tell you," he said, "but we have to do this again in two or three years."

They stumbled out of the water and Harry sat on the shore. Ron pulled out his wand and dried them both. After a few minutes to gather back his strength, Harry got dressed and started to walk back over to Sleepy and Minerva. He was really starting to feel much better. It was more than that. He was feeling like a million galleons. His stride gained vitality with every step.

"Hello, Sleepy," he said to the elf. "How is our friend doing?" He was beaming at her.

"She is being asleep now, Harry Potter," replied Sleepy. "What is being happening to you, Harry Potter," she asked. She was staring at him as if she had never seen him before.

"I don't know," replied Harry, "but I recommend it." He laughed and all those around him could feel the merriment start to bubble up inside themselves. It was contagious.

"I believe you are in my spot, Sleepy," said Harry with another laugh. Ron thought they might have to start calling him "Chucklebutt."

"Sleepy is very sorry, Harry Potter," said the elf with such contrition that Harry had to apologize for his flippant remark.

"I'm sorry, Sleepy," said Harry. "Let me help Minerva while you find Hermione." He traded places with her and immediately started to stroke her hair while calling her name.

"Minerva. Minerva, my dear. It's time to be leaving your pain and sorrows behind. Your friends are waiting to be with you, Minerva. Your students need teaching and your teachers need watching." He winked at Ron, who blushed.

Hermione was brought back by Sleepy. She wanted to rush to Harry but was held back by Ron. They watched in silence as Harry continued. His voice seemed to take on a magical quality of it's own.

"Minerva McGonagall. You are feeling better and better. Your aches are just a memory that is fading away. The curses are washing away in the rain. Only your happiness is real. Minerva, the sun is shining and the grass is green. You need to be running to your home."

As they watched, the black lines crisscrossing her face and arms started to fade. She rested easier and seemed to just be sleeping in Harry's arms. Hermione and Ron put their arms around each other in friendship. Their cares and worries were being swept clean.

"Minerva, the people you love are waiting for your embrace. The feast is prepared and only the hostess is missing. Minerva, your children are waiting at their tables while you nap away. It's time to wake up, Minerva."

Harry stopped his talking/singing and waited.

After about a minute, she half woke and said, "Màthair. Athair. Oh, I've missed you so." She opened her eyes and noticed where she was. "Oh, Harry," she said, "I dreamt that I was back with my mother and father and they were singing to me, again." She looked at her hands and said, "I don't think I've looked this good in years." Indeed, not only were her wounds healed, she had lost all traces of her arthritis. "I feel like running," she said and sat up.

"Not like that, you aren't, little miss," said Harry with a laugh. "Let me help you." He pulled out his wand and created a foot for her that was impossible to tell from a real one. He attached it and helped her to her feet.

"Thank you, Harry," she said. "I don't seem to have any shoes, though." She looked around.

"What do you need shoes for, Minerva," said Harry. "Isn't the grass green enough for you?"

Minerva got a mischievous look in her eye and with a jump, started to run back to the school, all thought of propriety out the window.

Author's Note: A short chapter but I wanted a happy ending until the next disaster.

Dad


	36. Chapter 36

Author's Note: First: I can't believe that everyone who felt compelled to point out the Remis/Remus thing missed that I was suddenly calling Slider (the head elf), Jumper. It is true that I only referred to Jumper as the head elf once or twice but you guys are usually more on the ball than that. Jumper's only scene so far was when Harry went to meet Wormtail at the trolley. I'll refer to the head elf as slider from now on.

Second: this chapter would be the end of a volume in a multi-volume work. It tries to tie together some loose ends before moving on. We will see more of the world from here on out.

Thanks for reading.

Dad

Chapter 36 - I'm not God

September 22nd, 1997

It was an entrance that would be remembered for quite some time. The school was still reeling from the shock of hearing how it's headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall had been captured and tortured by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The details were sketchy, but somehow she was rescued. Harry Potter had some part in this, apparently, since it was reported in this morning's Daily Prophet that he and Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, had taken her to St. Mungo's for treatment. The last time the upper classmen had remembered a student or teacher being treated there, instead of the school infirmary, was a year and a half earlier when, coincidentally, Professor McGonagall was felled by the vile Umbridge and a few aurors with four stunners to the chest. That had almost killed her and the situation this time was reported to be much worse.

The new assistant headmistress, Professor Sprout, had therefore been thrust in command years before she had expected it. In fact, she was only the new assistant head because Professor Flitwick had decided, quite reasonably, that he would retire before McGonagall, and the assistant headmaster should be someone who could use the on the job training.

What little information Professor Sprout had given the students was not encouraging. As head of Hufflepuff House, she was compassionate, but honest.

"Headmistress McGonagall has suffered severe wounds at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," she stated, mirroring the published reports by the Daily Prophet. "I have visited her with Madam Pomfrey and she is being given the best of care but it might be some time before she is able to return to her duties. I will respect her privacy by not elaborating further."

Naturally, the school gossip network started up a second shift to handle the overload. She was already dead. She had fought off He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named personally to escape. She was still his prisoner and there was a coverup with an imposter posing as her for any number of reasons. Harry had been busy with his own preparations for Dobby's funeral to answer any questions about why he had accompanied the nurse to St. Mungo's.

So it was a depressed and subdued group of students that were working their way to their last class before lunch when an elderly woman with long flowing hair that was cut lopsidedly, wearing some sort of a thin, flowery dress with a man's cloak came skipping barefoot through the entrance of the castle.

"Hello, children," she sang as she passed through their stunned ranks. "It's just so good to be back." She beamed at them all and then headed on past to go to her office, laughing as she went. Those students and teachers further back down the hallways wondered what the holdup was but those that had seen her had just one thought; "Was that McGonagall?"

Murmurs started to spread with the news that not only was the headmistress back and well, she seemed to have lost her mind. She was singing and laughing, although those that saw her skipping were still having a hard time believing that.

They were left behind as some of the euphoria started to wear off and Minerva realized that she was only wearing two articles of clothing and that one didn't close very well in the front and one didn't close very well in the back.

She rode up the stairs to her office and was just about to enter when she noticed three students in her entrance area.

"That's cheating, Harry," she laughed. She hugged him and said, "I don't remember the last time I was so happy. Thank you, Harry." She hugged him again and said, "Now I want to hear everything. Just let me get dressed and we'll have our chat here." She pushed open the doors to find Professor Sprout about to do the same thing from the inside.

"Minerva!" she shouted, giving the old woman a huge hug. "But how?" she looked back in the room to a thoroughly stunned Poppy. Looking back to see if it was true, she said, "Poppy was just telling me how the healer's said..." She stopped a moment but continued on. "And now you're here and seem fine. Come in. Come in and tell us how this all happened." She pulled Minerva through the door, almost shutting it in the faces of the three students she had failed to notice in her excitement.

"Minerva?" came another voice from the office. It was the portrait of Professor Dumbledore, his face and hands against the front of his painting. Harry had never seen that before. Paintings usually never noticed that restriction but it seemed to pain Grampa right now. He changed expressions quickly and, stepping back, said, "I am so very glad to see you, Minerva. I think I speak for everyone when I ask how could this be?"

"Just a moment, Albus," said Minerva. "Harry," she said, turning back to him. "Could you have some tea sent up while I change?"

"Certainly, Minerva," said Harry. He needed an excuse, anyway. As Minerva went to change, Harry said, "Winky."

"What can Winky be doing for Master?" she asked as always. She had noticed that Harry had been resisting calling and it had worried her. She was glad things were getting back to normal.

"I wanted you to know, Winky," he said, smiling, "Dobby did not die in vain. The Headmistress is back and whole again. It is thanks to Dobby that this has happened." He hugged the little elf.

"Winky is being very glad, Master," she said. "Mistress McGonagall is a very great witch and Winky is glad that her Dobby is helping Master in saving her."

"That he did, Winky," said Harry. "Now, please bring enough tea and cups for, let's see," he looked around while counting on his fingers, "seven. I want you to join us because we will be discussing the full story for the first time and you deserve to hear as well."

"Yes, Master," said Winky, a little excitedly. She didn't like not working but to hear of her husband's last moments was more important. She popped away.

While she was gone, Harry summoned a table and seven chairs that would suit the size of the office. He had not yet gotten around to buying some cushy chairs but they didn't have the room, anyway. Winky returned and set up the table for tea with some other snacks. Poppy, Pomona, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Winky all sat down and waited for Minerva.

"Harry," said Poppy. "I know it would put things out of order but could you start with Minerva? It's driving me crazy. What in the world did you do?" She looked towards the door to Minerva's quarters in total confusion.

"What makes you think I did anything?" asked Harry. He casually bit into a chocolate cookie.

"Hermione," asked Poppy, "could you ask your husband to stop kidding around before I violate one or more of my oaths as a healer?"

Harry laughed. When he did this, they could all feel the difference. The old expression that his or her laughter filled the room was certainly true of Harry. The older witches started to giggle a little at the feeling.

"What did I miss?" asked Minerva, excitedly. She was wearing her more comfortable evening robes and she sat down and grabbed a cracker without hesitation. She was famished.

"Poppy is impatient," said Harry. "She wants to know the ending but poor Professor Sprout doesn't even know the beginning." He sipped his tea and started to work on his cookie some more.

"Perhaps Pomona shouldn't know anything," suggested Minerva, sheepishly. She was starting to get back to her normal, reasonable self.

"Voldemort won't try to get any of you again, Minerva," said Harry. "I think I know what you told him and it's probably driving him crazy."

"How do you know?" asked Minerva, shocked. "I obviously haven't told anyone."

"He had you for hours," said Harry. "His plan was to question you quickly so I assume he at least had veritaserum. We have kept you mostly in the dark. What you do know, such as my ability to apparate on the school grounds, was already known to him. It cost him ten Death Eaters including Bellatrix Lestrange and he got nothing out of it."

"You captured that bitch?" asked Minerva, bitterly. She was red in the face with fury but quickly changed to embarrassment at her language, although the shade stayed the same.

"Actually," said Harry, "I killed her. She had attacked Dobby and I blew her head off. Voldemort managed to get away, though."

"I'm sorry about Dobby, Harry," said Minerva, softly. "He was a good friend and loyal servant."

"He was also a loving husband," said Hermione. She looked at Winky for permission to continue. Winky nodded and Hermione said, "Dobby was married to Winky."

McGonagall got up and went around the table to give Winky a hug. "I'm so sorry, Winky. He should never have risked his life for me."

"Dobby is being glad to help his great friend, Harry Potter, to be saving his Headmistress," replied Winky. "Winky is proud of her Dobby and is wanting to be hearing his story."

Harry laughed and said, "That's Winky's way of saying we should stop with the chit chat and tell the story properly." He looked up and said, "I think we should wait for Hagrid and Honey. They will be here in just a moment."

"How do you know that, Harry?" asked Ron. He had not heard anything.

"They are near and getting closer," replied Harry. "I can tell." He shrugged .

A few moments later, they heard heavy feet running up the spiral staircase and the great door slammed around to the wall when Hagrid knocked excitedly. He didn't notice but instead looked at the assembly before him.

"Professor McGonagall!" he boomed. He took a couple steps towards her but Harry stood in his way.

"She doesn't need a Hagrid hug just this instant, Hagrid," said Harry.

"Oh, yes I do," said McGonagall, getting up. She rightly assumed that Harry's intervention would calm Hagrid enough to make it safe.

Hagrid gently put his hands on her back as she spread her arms as wide as they would go. "I don' believe it, Professor," he said with tears running down his face. "Professor Sprout said you were hurt really bad."

"And so I was, Hagrid," said Minerva, releasing her old friend. "We were just going to discuss how this all came about. Would you like to join us?"

"I don' know, Professor," said Hagrid. "It's a pretty small room an all." He had a point.

"Nonsense," said McGonagall. "Let's go into my parlor," she suggested. "It's much larger." She gestured towards the door to her personal quarters.

"Just a moment, Headmistress," said Harry. He looked around behind Hagrid to find a very shaken and weeping Honey standing just outside the office doorway.

"Why don't you join us, too, Honey," he said, offering her his hand. "Minerva is fine and we can gather ourselves together."

Minerva walked around Hagrid joined Harry. "Why Miss Sweetwater," she said. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I'm just feeling like Hagrid, Headmistress," she replied. "I'm so surprised and happy and confused at the same time. When I heard you were in your office, I ran here as fast as I could. I would have passed Hagrid in the hallway except you can't pass Hagrid in a hallway." She laughed a little as she started to get a grip.

"Well, let's all go in and see if we can't sort it all out." Minerva led her guests to her quarters. Ron took hold of Honey's hand as soon as he could and they all went into her sitting room. Dumbledore left his painting and joined them in one specially painted for him. It contained a single, soft chair.

"Harry," said Minerva, "I think we still might need a few of your chairs. Do you mind?"

"Of course not, Minerva," replied Harry and with a swish of his wand, the furniture from the office appeared before them. Winky adjusted the table settings to accommodate the additional attendees.

"Thank you, Harry," she said and then added, "Oh, don't forget your cloak. It's in my bedroom." She started for the door.

"Don't bother, Headmistress," said Hermione. "I'll get it." She rushed off and grabbed Harry's cloak off of a chair. She turned to come back and stopped midstride. After a moment, she regained her composure and returned to the group.

She hung the cloak on a hook by the door. Turning around, she said to McGonagall, "Nice poster, Headmistress."

McGonagall blushed. After a moment, she said, "I received it from Fred and George Weasley."

The now sizable group was still finding seats so this exchange went unnoticed except by Honey, who was nearby with Ron. "Does our prim and proper Headmistress have a risque poster in her bedroom?" she asked in a whisper to the two of them.

"Certainly not!" replied McGonagall in a voice much louder than she had intended. The rest of the side conversations in the room stopped and everyone looked at her for an explanation. She sighed and said, "I suppose if I can live with the embarrassment of skipping through the halls in a hospital gown I can live with this. I don't have a wand anymore, Hermione. Do you mind?"

Hermione drew her wand and summoned the poster to their table. It was a large framed print of Harry in dragon form flying around the hills surrounding the Burrow. Apparently, the twins had taken his picture the day after his wedding. They had enchanted it to fly around a bit before landing as Harry. The poster Harry waved and then took off as a dragon again.

"Shouldn't I get royalties or something when they do that sort of thing?" asked Harry. He wasn't concerned, really. Just curious.

"Probably," said Ron, unconcerned. "Pretty cool, though."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I like it."

Hermione sent the poster back and they got down to business.

"If we are going to get done in a reasonable amount of time," said Harry, "I must insist that we accept without explanation for now that what we will tell you happened without having to explain how we did or knew certain things.

"Well," began Harry, "it all started with a stroke of good luck on a boring afternoon." He then told the tale starting with how they had observed a Death Eater who looked like he might have been waiting for someone until they got to Minerva going down to Hagrid's Hut.

"Why in the world did you go down there?" asked Hermione.

"I received a note claiming to be from Hagrid asking me to meet him in his house," she said. "I wondered at the time about the terrible spelling but just wandered down into that trap like an idiot, anyway." She blushed a little, realizing now how foolish she had been.

"I see," said Hermione. "Hagrid? Were you tricked away from your hut, somehow?"

"Naw," said Hagrid. "I was at the Hogshead, drinking mead when I shoulda been at home. They might not have got ya, Professor if I had a been there."

He looked like he was going to start crying again so Harry said, "There were ten of them, Hagrid. They would have killed you and taken Minerva anyway."

"It happened really fast, Hagrid," added Ron. "We only took a few seconds to react with an armed and ready force and they still got away. There was nothing you could have done, mate."

Hagrid tended to disagree but grudgingly gave in.

The story continued with the recall of the Surrey team; the inability of Slider to detect McGonagall; the recruitment of Flitwick; the discovery of Sleepy; the low-level daylight flight of the rescuers (Hermione shuddered thinking about it); the discovery of the house and the inability of any elf but Dobby to cast offensive spells.

"Dobby being free was the only thing that saved you, Minerva," said Harry, sadly. "We needed someone who could take on Voldemort and he volunteered without hesitation."

"That was extremely brave of him," said Minerva. She knew that Harry was emphasizing this to help Winky but she believed it, nevertheless.

"Yes, it was," continued Harry. "I hit the area the house had to be in and when the charms started to fail, we popped in. Voldemort and Lestrange were there. I was stunned for a moment and Voldemort almost killed me but Dobby attacked him and I was free to try to save you and fight Bellatrix. She probably would have got me except Dobby was doing such a good job on Voldemort that he called for help. When she hit Dobby with that plasma cauterus spell, I had an opening and took it. Voldemort popped away and I grabbed Dobby and McGonagall and headed to the infirmary." He paused a moment and then added, "Dobby was dying but I noticed he was glad to be with Winky, at the end." He looked at Winky who had large tears rolling down her cheeks. She was also smiling at her husbands memory.

"Dobby is showing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that he had better not be taking Master's friends," she said with satisfaction. "Dobby is letting him be knowing he is being in a fight!" Winky smiled at the thought and then broke down again. It was still too soon to have good memories without a few tears.

They then told of how the healers at St. Mungo's had tried their best but by the time Harry and his friends had returned from Dobby's funeral, word had come back that it was only a matter of a few hours and Minerva would be dead.

"I wanted to ask you about that, Harry," said Ron. "We were all sitting there when Madam Pomfrey told us and then you just weren't there. I don't even think I heard an apparition pop. How did you do that?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "I just knew where I had to be and there I was." He didn't know how else to explain it. "I talked with a nurse named Laura and then brought Minerva back here to die." He was having a hard time with his feelings despite knowing how the story turned out.

"I appreciate that, too," said Minerva, kindly. "I would rather be here than anywhere else when my time comes."

"So how the bloody hell do you come skipping into your office an hour later?" asked Poppy, no longer able to contain herself.

"Well," said Harry, not really knowing how to explain, "Sleepy and I were just sitting there when Fawkes arrived and shed a few tears on Minerva."

"So it was the phoenix who healed you then," said Pomona, jumping to conclusions.

"Sort of," said Harry. "The phoenix tears helped but they didn't do anything about the major injuries. I had to merge with Fawkes before our combined powers healed Minerva."

"Merge?" asked Poppy. "Do you mean you worked together?" It wasn't clear how this all worked.

"We worked together after we merged," replied Harry. "Fawkes and I now share this body. We will be together for another two or three years." He didn't want to describe the merger and hoped no one asked.

"It felt wonderful," said Minerva. "I dreamt that I was back home with my parents. You seemed to pick up on that somehow."

"You were very badly hurt," said Harry. "I had to go all the way back to your father to find someone that you loved and trusted enough to heal you, little miss."

Minerva looked up in surprise. "That's what he called me; his little miss. He used to tease me like you did." She had tears welling up in her eyes at the memory of her father and the realization that Harry had sounded so much like him by the lake.

"Fawkes and I had to bring that love back out from deep within you to push the pain and suffering out of your body," explained Harry. "I helped, but it was your father's love that really saved you."

Minerva sat silently. She smiled and wept all at the same time. Finally, she said, "I can remember him so clearly now, as if the memories were suddenly fresh again." Turning to Harry, she said, "for this, above all else, I thank you."

"So it was a combination of the enhanced healing powers of Harry and Fawkes assisted by your father's love?" asked Poppy. "That is amazing.

"Master," said Winky. "Dobby is loving Winky and Winky is loving Dobby. Is we being able to be healing Dobby?" The hope in her eyes was painful to Harry. She had heard how Minerva was all but dead and was dancing five minutes later. Of course she would think that Dobby could also be saved.

"I can't help Dobby, Winky," said Harry, sadly. "You see..."

"Dobby is helping Master save Master's headmistress," shouted Winky. "Dobby is being good and kind. Dobby is being good enough for Master to be saving, too." She was sobbing again. "Winky is doing whatever Master wants! Winky will take clothes! Just be giving Winky back her Dobby!"

Winky wasn't the only one crying. Even those who barely knew her or Dobby were able to see the grief in her. It was all consuming. She had loved her Dobby as much as anyone could. His loss was a dagger to her heart. It must have been confusing to her to hear how someone else that was dying could be saved so completely while her Dobby was still dead.

Harry controlled himself enough to say, "I am not God, Winky. I can't help Dobby like I helped Minerva. I can help you, though." He walked over to her and, kneeling down, held out his arms.

Winky hesitated for a second and then embraced her master and let the tears flow down, soaking her tea towel. Harry started to talk to her as a golden glow surrounded them. The words were soft and sweet and the syntax was terrible but it seemed to help calm Winky down quite quickly. Harry's voice was extremely soft, so that only Winky could here but hear she did. After a minute or so, they parted. Harry still had tears in his eyes but Winky was filled with the afterglow of Dobby's love for her.

"Thank you, Master," she said. "Winky is forgetting that Dobby is being with her forever. Winky is not forgetting again." She smiled and sat back down at the table.

Everyone sat down again, not really knowing what to do next. Finally, Poppy said, "So what do we tell everyone?" She looked around for an answer. "We're already getting two or three requests a day for lost limbs. What do you think will happen if word of this gets out?"

"I can't do it for just anyone," said Harry. "I have to be emotionally connected for this type of healing to work."

"Explain that to a father who's daughter is dying," said Pomona. "Are you sure of the limitations?"

"No," said Harry. "I just know what works. It all boils down to love and trust. I have to feel those things to help anyone and they have to feel them for me. Without that, I can't get in far enough to do any good. It's really a good ability but it is severely limited to just my close friends."

"I hope you get to use it again," said Ron. He thought about that and then added, "Well, actually, I don't. It just seems that it was an awful lot of pain to go through for an ability that you might never use again."

"It was worth it, I think," replied Harry, glancing at Minerva. "I might have picked up a few other things from Fawkes, as well. For instance, I knew when Hagrid and Honey were close by."

"That might be helpful," added Hermione. "When did you first notice them?"

"Just down the hall from the headmistress' office," answered Harry. "Not really up to Fawkes or even owl standards but it might come in handy."

"We still haven't come up with what we will tell people," reminded Poppy. "Minerva's condition and prognosis were in the paper. Her recovery will be questioned."

"Give Fawkes the credit," stated Harry, without hesitation. "It was a rare healing by a rare bird. No one will expect it to be reproducible. It will also be true. Just don't go into the details."

"I think you might be right, Harry," agreed McGonagall. "I could say that Fawkes came; I was healed a short time later and that Fawkes has not been seen since. That would be the truth." She looked at the clock on the mantle and said, "Oh, my. It is nearly time for afternoon classes to start. I suppose everyone needs to get to their classrooms, one way or the other." She stood up. Everyone else joined her.

"Please remember that this is still very much a secret," reminded Harry. "The Fawkes story of how Minerva was healed will be the one we should use. Don't mention my involvement." He grabbed his cloak from it's hook and escorted his wife from the room, followed by Ron, Honey and the rest.

"Harry?" called a voice from behind them as they entered the office. Harry looked back and saw that Grampa had returned to his main frame.

"Yes, Grampa?" replied Harry, turning around. "You were remarkably quiet in there."

"Yes, I know, Harry," said Grampa. "A most fascinating story, to be sure. I just wanted to add a word or two." He paused a second and added, "In private, please."

Harry looked around and since everyone but McGonagall, and perhaps Poppy, were leaving anyway, they all quietly filed out of the room. McGonagall said, "I will be in the kitchens for a while." She gave Harry a last hug and said, "Thanks again, Harry. I feel like I'm thirty years old." She walked off with a slight skip in her step.

When the door had closed, Grampa said, "I am very proud of you, Harry. I knew of the powers to be gained from merging with Fawkes but never felt it worth the price. I didn't say anything about that in there because you seemed to wish to keep it to yourself. I understand. If Minerva knew the full extent of the pain you suffered for her, she would not sleep for many nights."

"I understand, Grampa," said Harry. "It seemed to be such a happy reunion that I didn't want to spoil it."

"That is my job, I'm afraid," said Grampa, sadly. "I didn't want to say this in front of the others, especially Minerva, but it was a grave mistake in rescuing her."

"What?" shouted Harry. He couldn't believe his ears. He thought that Dumbledore had loved Minerva. How could he think that her rescue was a mistake?

"Harry," said Grampa, perceiving his thoughts, "I love Minerva as much as anyone but you are the hope of this war. You will be forced to do many dangerous tasks before the end but you must pick your battles better. Minerva knew nothing of your operations and was therefore of no tactical or strategic importance. She was just a friend you went to save. You risked your life when it wasn't necessary and you must resist doing that. Voldemort is a great and powerful wizard. He has vast abilities that you know nothing of. You had surprise on your side this time and you say he still almost killed you. You were fortunate that you had Dobby with you to save you. He is gone now. Who will pay the price next time? Will it be Ron? Hermione? I'm not saying this to hurt you, Harry. I just want you to remember that we are in a war and the only way we will win it is if you are alive at the end."

Harry was stunned. He looked at the portrait and back at the Headmistress' empty desk. He didn't know what to think or say so he left the room. Grampa said nothing.

Harry stood in the ruins of the house that he had rescued Minerva from. He looked around. The roof was completely removed and the walls were only half standing. The table she was strapped to had a few pieces of plaster on it and Bellatrix's blood still covered the floor. Her body was still there so Voldemort had not thought enough of her to return for it. Or perhaps he thought as Dumbledore did. It was of no military importance to recover her body so he wouldn't take the chance.

"Accio Minerva's wand," said Harry. From a corner of the room, a wand came flying. It fell into his outstretched hand and he caught it. With a final look around, he apparated back to the headmistress' office. She was still to lunch in the kitchens so he laid it on her desk. He had went to look for it out of defiance to Dumbledore. He started at the spot that she had been attacked, just outside of Hagrid's hut. He then went back to the house where the Death Eaters waited for Filch's signal. He finally ended up at Voldemort's safe house. He thought that it would make him feel better about his choice in saving her but it only emphasized how dangerous his mission was. Hermione would even yell at him if she found out he went there for just a wand. Harry decided to find a place to think. He remembered there was a comfy couch under a tree nearby and went there.

He was surprised to see that he was not alone. Minerva was there with a platter of food and what appeared to be a fairly large glass of gillywater sitting on one of her own tables. She was sitting in a most un-McGonagall way with her legs curled up beside her as she half lay on one of the armrests while she ate her sandwiches.

"Hello, Harry," she said cheerily. "Care for a sandwich?" It was almost as if she were expecting him.

"Sure," he said, grabbing a sandwich from the fairly large pile. He sat down on the far end of the couch. She didn't try to move her feet out of the way.

They sat there together, eating their sandwiches, in silence. Minerva noticed that Harry didn't have anything to drink and called for Slider.

"Yes, Mistress," said Slider. "What can Slider be doing for Mistress?"

"Please bring some butterbeer for my friend, Slider," she said. "And if you have any, some treacle tart. I think he deserves it, today."

Slider bowed and popped off. A few moments later, he returned with a glass and pitcher of butterbeer and an full platter of treacle tart. Harry summoned one of his tables and Slider set them down and vanished.

Harry looked at the treacle tart, just for him, and said, "I think I feel a song coming on."

Minerva giggled. It took her a few seconds but she controlled herself enough to say, "Now stop that, Harry." She was still smiling broadly.

"Stop what?" asked a confused Harry.

"When you talk and are happy, it transfers to everyone around you, now," explained Minerva. "I expect that it is from your merging with Fawkes. Remember his song after Albus was killed? It's like that."

"Oh," said Harry. It was the shortest response he could think of and there was a treacle tart calling him.

They both ate on in silence until Minerva finally asked, "So, what did Grampa want?" She had heard what Harry had called the portrait of Dumbledore.

Harry didn't speak. He had no idea what to say but knew that he had to say something. Before he could come up with something, Minerva spoke first.

"Did he tell you that it was foolish to save me?" she asked, sipping her gillywater.

"Er, yes," replied Harry. How did she know?

"I thought so," said Minerva. "He gave us that same advice during the last war. We would have someone captured and then loose three more trying to save them. He finally convinced us to harden our hearts and just count them as already dead. It makes sense. Even when we were successful at saving someone, it was never really worth the risk or cost. About the best we could hope for was to break even." She looked closely at Harry and said, "Even this time, it was just barely to our favor. I was rescued but Dobby was lost. If not for the death of Bellatrix, you would have made a poor decision."

Harry sat silently eating for another minute or so, thinking. Finally, he said, "I understand what you are trying to say. I just don't know if it is in me to just let someone go like that."

Minerva looked on him kindly. "It isn't in you, Harry. Not yet. So far, you have been fortunate. When Hermione was captured, you should have died with her instead of rescuing her. That was very lucky for our side. This time, Voldemort never even wanted to see you. From what you described, that house was never intended to be discovered. That you did so might help us in the future or it might not. Voldemort might just stop believing in secrecy and go for overwhelming strength for his defenses. He might stop taking prisoners altogether. Who knows?"

"But no matter what he does," concluded Harry, "I should start weighing by potential losses against what I hope to save." He looked at her and said, "I will try to do that, Minerva but I will always go after Hermione, at the very least. Nothing will change that."

"I can't ask for more than that," conceded Minerva, "and Ron, too, for that matter. I can't even say whether or not Albus would have heeded his own advice if I was taken. We can make rash statements in safety on what we would or would not do under any sort of circumstances but when the time comes, that is when we show our true colors."

They finished lunch in silence. Finally, Minerva said, "This is a very nice spot, Harry. We might need to put a pavilion here." She got up and Slider arrived to take the dirty dishes. At Harry's request, he put the leftover treacle tart in his room. Minerva sent her table back to her rooms and Harry did the same with the couch and table. They walked back up to the castle together.

Late that afternoon, Minerva was in her office when her fireplace burst into green flame. A voice came out that sounded like that of Minister of Magic Scrimgeour. "Excuse me. This is the Minister of Magic. Is anyone there?"

Minerva walked over to the fireplace and replied, "Yes, there is someone here, Minister. What can I do for you?"

"Minerva?" shouted Scrimgeour. "Is that you?"

"Of course it is, Rufus," she said, chuckling. "Who did you expect to find in my office?"

"I, uh," he stammered. "Could I have a moment of your time?"

"Of course, Minister," replied Minerva with a smile.

The Minister was not wasting any time. He stepped out of the fireplace just a few seconds later. "Minerva," he said, again, "I can't believe it. Are you well?" He looked her over from top to bottom.

"I am perfectly fine, Rufus," she replied. "Please have a seat." She summoned a sturdy chair from her collection. She didn't want him to be too comfortable.

Scrimgeour sat down and seemed, at last, to be at a loss for words. Finally, he said, "I would like an explanation, if you don't mind. Yesterday, you are near death in St. Mungo's. It was reported that your wounds were the result of torture by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This morning, I am informed by the healers that you are not likely to survive the night. At noon, I am told that Harry Potter came and told the nurse on duty that he was taking you back here to die. I've been trying every chance I could to raise someone in the floo in your office and got no response until just now. When I arrive, you are sitting behind your desk in perfect health. Either everyone who has spoken to me in the last two days are idiots or something wonderful has happened. Please tell me which it is." He sat back in the chair.

Minerva had spent some of her time since lunch reading today's Daily Prophet. She knew what was public knowledge and what was still secret. She decided on only telling the Minister that which would already be known or of no use to anyone. "Something wonderful and terrible has happened, Minister," she replied. "I was indeed captured by Voldemort. He and his lovely assistant Bellatrix Lestrange did question and torture me. Mostly, it was Bellatrix who caused my wounds. I was rescued with the help of Harry Potter and his friends, as you no doubt already figured out. It might surprise you to know that the person most responsible for my rescue is Dobby. You might remember him; he was the elf next to Harry when he received the Order of Merlin. It was he who fought Voldemort while Harry saved me. Harry did manage to kill Bellatrix, though so it wasn't a wasted trip for him, either."

"An elf fought Voldemort?" asked Scrimgeour, incredulously. "That was very foolish of him."

"I thought so, too," agreed Minerva. "He did a pretty good job, though. If Bellatrix wasn't there, it might have gone bad for Voldemort. As it was, Bellatrix killed Dobby. Harry then killed Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix Lestrange is dead," he said matter-of-factly. "That and your rescue makes the elf's death a worthwhile one."

"I disagree, Minister," said Minerva. "Dobby was very important to Harry and the activities that you suspect he is involved in against Voldemort. I am just a school teacher. It is only Bellatrix that tipped the scales in my favor and that was chance."

"I see," said Rufus, who didn't really. "That brings us to your miraculous recovery. What can you tell me about that?"

"It was as you said, Minister," began Minerva. "I was all but dead and the healers gave up any hope. Harry realized that I would want to die here and brought me back. It was while we were waiting, down by the lake, that Fawkes, Albus' phoenix, came by. He was able to cure me. A short story but a happy one."

"An incomplete one, you mean," said Rufus, smiling. "I won't argue for more information that you wouldn't give me anyway." Standing, he came around and gave her a quick hug and said, "Welcome back, Minerva. I'm glad you are well." He then went back to the fireplace and with a wave goodbye, he was gone.

Harry sat in the office of the Fortress of Solitude. He had come there, appropriately, to be alone. It didn't work out that way. Remus and Tonks were both there and when she saw him through the glass door, Martha also joined them. Hermione had apparently gone to the afternoon classes and Ron was interrogating the new prisoners. Harry had filled them in on the whole Fawkes episode and they were discussing the implications.

"So you're able to heal your friends but no one else and you can tell when someone is fairly close," Tonks summarized. "Sounds like abilities that might be useful but only in fairly rare circumstances."

"If I never use them again," said Harry, "it would be worth it for Minerva's sake. If I had this ability before, I might even have been able to save Dobby." He looked down and was sad.

"Don't forget the voice thing," reminded Remus. "I don't understand it but the ability to spread happiness might come in handy as well."

"Maybe," agreed Harry. "This sensing others, though, could be a right pain. Right now, for instance, it's like I can sense the evil of Voldemort coming from the prisoners."

"You can?" asked Remus. "From what you said before, I thought the range would only be ten or so yards. They're further away than that."

"I know," agreed Harry. "It's more like I pick up a sense of Voldemort than them. Let me get closer and see if it picks up a bit." He got up and headed for the door. As he reached it, he stopped. "That's funny. Now it seems to be to the right, not towards the prisoners." He walked around and kept looking in different directions. Finally, he stooped in front of the safe. "It's in here," he said. "I must be picking up on the horcrux." Looking at Martha he said, "Oops. Forget I said that, Martha." He then added, "It's super secret. Could you please return to the elves and pull the shades. You really shouldn't know anything about this. Sorry."

Martha smiled and said, "I don't think I should know any of this, Harry. If you have something even more secret, I fully understand wanting me out of here. Don't worry about it." She went back to her duties with the elves and, as Harry requested, pulled the shades.

Remus cast a silencing charm on the office and Harry opened the safe. He took out the locket and set it on the table. He could definitely feel it now.

"Remus," he said, "this could really be helpful in finding the other horcruxes. We were wondering how to search for them in some of the places we suspect. This will make it much easier." He was smiling broadly now.

"Stop it, Harry," said Tonks. "Remember, when you're happy, we're all happy. We need to have clear heads now."

"Well, what's wrong with being happy?" asked Harry. "I happen to like being happy."

"I do, too," said Tonks, "but it puts me in the mood for other things so knock it off."

"I'm in the mood for other things, too, Tonks," answered Harry. "I think it's time we took a field trip. First stop; Dryburgh Abby."


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37 - The Tourists

September 22nd, 1997

Dinner that evening was memorable mainly for it's family atmosphere. Even the Slytherins, (well some of them anyway), joined in welcoming back Headmistress McGonagall and congratulating her on her recovery. The Fawkes excuse seemed to satisfy most of the students and everything tended to get back to normal. The only problem was when Millicent suggested to McGonagall that perhaps Fawkes could also cure Nott. McGonagall had been on the ball enough to agree to look into the matter. She knew, of course, that nothing was going to cure Nott anymore but a suitable explanation for his disappearance and, ultimately, death would need to be devised. She would need to discuss that with Harry and Poppy as soon as possible. She had an appointment with Harry and his core team that evening to go into more detail on her experience while under the care of Voldemort. Now that Poppy was as involved as anyone, she would see if she could invite the nurse to join them.

Harry sat, as always, with Hermione and Ron at the Gryffindor table. Ginny, Neville, Dougal and, inappropriately since she was a Ravenclaw, Luna, all sat nearby. Minerva had informed Harry of her meeting with the Minister and what she had revealed. At first he was upset at the amount of information she had given concerning his involvement in her rescue but she convinced him that denying he was there would cause much more speculation than just admitting it. At least Dobby could be properly recognized. He even sent a short note to Barnabus Cuffe to make sure he spelled Dobby's name right. He also inserted a little misdirection at Ron's suggestion that made it seem as if it was Dobby who found the safe house. Harry used the term "the elf" when referring to Sleepy's part in everything so that Voldemort would consider that method of tracking him to be lost. There was no determining the effect from the embarrassment that he would feel when it was made public that an attack by an elf caused him to call for help.

After dinner, Ron and Hermione went to the Headmistress' office while Harry went to their office to pick up Tonks and Remus. He then took the two of them to join the others.

"Harry," said Minerva, when he arrived. "Before you leave, could I ask for a favor?"

"Of course, Minerva," said Harry. He was supposed to meet with Poppy for their nightly limb replacement session. During this time, it had been agreed that the other members of the inner circle would fill in McGonagall on the penultimate goal of the group, which was finding and destroying Voldemort's remaining horcruxes.

"I was wondering if we might invite Poppy to join us, tonight," she said. "She might have some insights on your new abilities and on how we can deal with the problem of Mr. Nott's unfortunate demise."

Harry looked around at the rest of the group. There was no longer the immediate approval of new members that characterized the early part of the adventure. Now, careful analysis was used to determine which, if any, new people should be included.

"I don't think she needs to know what we are going to be telling Headmistress McGonagall," said Hermione, "but it might be a good idea to get her views on Nott and your merger with Fawkes."

"I agree," said Remus. "Minerva is now the perfect new member since she has been cleared by Voldemort himself as not knowing anything." He looked at her and added, "No offense. Poppy, on the other hand, could be suspected if it were ever found out that she was acting as a front for Harry's limb replacement service."

"Speaking of which," said Harry, with a meaningful look at his watch. "I guess it's agreed. You four get Minerva up to speed and I'll bring Poppy back when we're done." He threw the invisibility cloak over himself and popped to Poppy's office.

"What was that?" said a nervous sounding man. He had been standing just outside of the office and heard the distinctive pop of Harry's arrival. "It sounded like someone apparated into your office." He peered inside.

"I thought it sounded like it came from one of the logs in my fire," countered Poppy. "I've had a bit of that with the wet wood we seem to be using lately." She gestured to the man to join her and he came and sat on the stool she indicated.

"Now, let me see the arm," she began. "Just remove your cloak so I can get a good look, Mr. Korner." Harry noticed that Korner had a metal hook where his right hand used to be. Poppy unstrapped the hook from around his shoulder. The stump indicated, from Harry's growing experience, that it was probably the result of a strong severing charm. There was no tearing or irregularities. It was as if a sword had chopped his hand off cleanly. This would be an easy fix.

"Now, just hold still," said Poppy, pulling out her wand. Harry did likewise. Together, they performed the proper motions to first summon the raw material from thin air, followed by the refinement and attachment. Harry had know from his experience replacing Minerva's foot, that the results would be much better than usual. McGonagall's foot looked just like her other foot and this hand would match his left. Apparently, this was a side benefit of merging with Fawkes; the restoration would be unnoticeable.

"Oh my," said Poppy. She was expecting the usual light brown hand. Usable but hardly discrete. The perfect hand caught her off her guard.

"What's the matter?" asked Korner. He seemed to be fairly skittish, thought Harry.

"Nothing," said Poppy, thinking fast. "Sometimes it takes a little more out of me than usual. Try it, please." She regained her composure.

Mr. Korner tried the hand and, after a few attempts, seemed satisfied. "It seems to be very satisfactory, Madam Pomfrey," he said. "Good as new. Now, how much do I owe you?" He took out his money pouch, probably for the last time with his left hand.

"The standard rate is ten galleons," said Poppy, as usual. "If that is too much, then whatever you can. If it is too little, then give extra to a charity."

"That's quite a bargain," said Korner. "You should consider raising your rates. There's more money to be made than ten galleons a pop." He handed her exactly ten galleons. "I wouldn't mind helping you get set up someplace better than this," he added. "A little advertising and you could be rich."

"I have all the money I need, Mr. Korner," said Poppy, with a smile. "Thank you very much for your offer but I'm afraid I have to go rest now." Clearly, she had had enough of Mr. Korner.

"OK," said Korner, getting up to leave, "but don't forget me if you change your mind." He walked out of the hospital wing.

After he had gone out of earshot, Harry removed the cloak. "He seemed to be pretty nonchalant for a bloke who just got his hand back," said Harry. "You would have thought you sewed a button on for him."

Madam Pomfrey put the stool away and turned to look at Harry. "Some people are going to be like that, Harry," she said. "I don't know if that is really the way they are or if they just don't know how to act. Mr. Korner is a merchant by trade and lost his hand during a robbery. Being a self-made man, he probably didn't like having to rely on others to help him do things that he used to do by himself. In that case, getting his right hand back might mean more to him than to most and he just doesn't want to show it. We may never know. He still wanted to do something for me. As a businessman, he naturally turned to a business offer."

Harry considered this. Percy had also been a proud man but had been more appreciative when Harry had restored Penelope. Then again, who was he to judge anyone. He had killed two people in the last day and a half. Lestrange was self defense but Nott was by choice. That reminded him of his meeting.

"Poppy?" asked Harry. "Minerva thought it might be a good idea for you to attend a meeting we are having in her office. It concerns the activities that a few of us are engaged in but we aren't quite ready to tell you everything. There are some things that you could be very helpful with, though. Would you like to join us?"

Poppy thought for a moment and then asked, "Am I likely to be asked to fly a broom at two hundred miles per hour or fight You-Know-Who?" She smiled at him.

"Not if we can help it," said Harry, laughing. Poppy giggled in response.

"If you promise to laugh once in a while, Harry," she replied, "I'm in." She grabbed his arm and nodded. With a turn, they were gone.

The group assembled in Minerva's office; Minerva, Poppy, Remus, Tonks, Hermione, Ron and Harry, (when listed by age), had anything but a laughing matter on their hands. They had, in fact, a body to dispose of. The problem was to have him end up dead, (of course) but make it look like an accident or, at the very least, like it had nothing to do with them. Any official inquest would determine that there was no such thing as Luissere's Lurgie so that was out. It was also very difficult to give someone who was dead, another disease.

"Perhaps some sort of an accident," suggested Ron. "Maybe we could just throw him down a flight of stairs."

"A possibility," replied Lupin. "We might have to resort to something like that. I would prefer it if he died in a more common manner. I can't remember when someone died falling down the steps at Hogwarts, can you, Poppy?"

"Not that I can recall," replied the nurse. "Of course, there's always a first time." She seemed to think that this might be that time.

"Too much of a coincidence," concluded Hermione. "Headmistress. I believe you said that you told Voldemort that you knew Nott was a Death Eater and that we also knew there was a traitor at the castle, but you didn't know who. Is that correct?" Minerva had filled them all in on her conversations with Voldemort after Harry and Poppy arrived.

"Yes," replied Minerva. "I also mentioned that we were pretending that Nott was in the hospital wing but that he was really your prisoner."

"Did you tell him where we were holding him?" asked Ron.

"Not really," replied Minerva with a smile. "I said he was in the Fortress of Solitude. I have no idea where that is and, I suspect, neither does he."

"Harry!" shouted Ron, excitedly. "This is a golden opportunity to have him look in totally the wrong place for our headquarters. You and Hermione seemed to be in on some sort of a joke about the name. You said something about the north pole."

"Yes," said Hermione. "The real Fortress of Solitude is at the north pole or close to it. At least if it was real. It's the summer place for a muggle comic book hero named Superman."

"Exactly," said Harry, catching on. "If he tries to find it, he will send his men searching in the arctic." Thinking further, he said, "This might solve another problem I've been worried about. We've had the arms in that mine for quite a while now. Maybe we should move them. Why not up north? Find or make a cave in the ice a few thousand feet down and ward it against apparition. That might keep them busy for months."

"I thought you didn't want to mess with their heads," reminded Tonks, thinking of their earlier thoughts about wiping Halsfer's mind and putting him back in his window.

"This would have a purpose," said Hermione. "The arctic is no picnic, even for wizards. We are planning on doing some outside activities soon and the more of them that are out of the country, the better."

"I wonder if the elves could find or make a place for us," pondered Harry.

"Let's find out," said McGonagall. "Slider, please join us." Slider heard Minerva say "join us" as he was already at her side.

"Yes, Mistress," said Slider. "What is Mistress needing?"

"We need to know if you are able to find or build a cave far to the north under a few thousand feet of ice," said Harry.

"Slider is not knowing, Harry Potter," replied Slider. "Slider is needing to know how big Harry Potter is needing his cave to be and is also needing to know how far north we is talking about."

"Do you know where the north pole is, Slider?" asked Hermione.

"Slider is hearing of a north pole, Mistress Potter, but Slider is not knowing where it is being," he replied.

"Maybe you can show him on a globe," suggested Minerva.

"We can work on that later, " said Harry. "It is very cold under a lot of ice, Slider. If we show you were to put it, could you dig a cave a thousand feet beneath the ice in those conditions?"

"Slider and the house elves are able to be doing that for Harry Potter," said Slider. "We is only needing to be knowing where and how big."

"Great," said Harry. "We'll get back to you on that when we have a globe. Thanks, Slider."

"Harry Potter is very welcome," said Slider. He paused for a moment and then asked, "Slider is wanting to ask Harry Potter a question. Is Harry Potter wishing to let Slider be doing this?" He waited eagerly.

"Of course," replied Harry. "You can ask anything you want." He wondered what the elf would want to know.

"Harry Potter's Dobby is free and is being able to be fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with Harry Potter. Slider and Sleepy is not being able to be helping Harry Potter because they is not free. Slider is saying to Harry Potter that the house elves is being ready to fight but we isn't able to be helping when Harry Potter needed to save Mistress." He looked sadly at McGonagall. "Slider and some of the house elves is talking about this and we is thinking that we is needing to be free to help Harry Potter like Dobby is. We is deciding that we is ready to take clothes to be helping Harry Potter. We is then being able to help Harry Potter like Dobby is. Slider and the house elves is asking if Mistress will give us clothes?"

No one spoke. Even Hermione knew that this was a great sacrifice on the part of the elves. Receiving clothes was the greatest disgrace that could befall a house elf and here they were, asking for them. Harry decided he needed to clarify the situation before proceeding.

"Slider," he said, "I am very touched by your generous offer. It is true that Dobby was free to help when I needed him most but I want you to understand that even now, we are honored to have your help. When we trained with the small group, we took into account your limitations and found that preventing the Death Eaters from apparating away and defending us from incoming spells was very useful. Just because you can't attack with us does not lessen your importance. I will admit though, if Dobby was not free and able to attack Voldemort, I would be dead, as well as your Mistress. Dobby is dead because he helped. I want to make sure you and anyone else is aware of the danger."

"Slider and the house elves is already be talking about this, Harry Potter," replied Slider. "We is knowing that Dobby is being dead and we is thinking that if Slider and Sleepy is fighting with Harry Potter and Dobby, then maybe Dobby is not being dead. Slider and the house elves is knowing what we is being asking."

"I understand," replied Harry. He turned to Ron and asked, "Do you think that if we had two teams of five free elves each, that it would be enough for now?" Ron was, after all, the tactician.

"Ron thought for a moment and said, "I would think so. We can always increase the numbers later if it is necessary."

Harry asked, "Is that acceptable to you, Slider?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," he replied. "May Slider and the house elves be choosing who will be free, Mistress?" He addressed the last question to Minerva because she was officially their owner, as head of the school.

"Yes, Slider," she replied. "Harry. May we meet with the volunteers in the Fortress of Solitude tomorrow night? I would like to see it, at last."

"Certainly, Headmistress," replied Harry. "Slider, please have the ten volunteers meet us just outside the Fortress' office tomorrow night at eight o'clock."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider and, bowing to Minerva, he popped away.

Hermione wrote a couple of words on a scrap of parchment and Harry caught a glimpse before she tucked it in her pocket. It said "Globe" and "Uniforms".

He understood the reference to a globe but uniforms? He decided to ask her about it later.

"Where were we?" asked McGonagall.

"We were discussing how to get rid of Nott," answered Hermione. She hadn't been pleased when Harry forced the name of the traitor out of him, thus ending his life, but she also hadn't shed any tears over his body.

"To be precise," corrected Ron, "we were discussing how to get rid of him in the most advantageous way possible. If we assume the elves can dig a cave at the north pole and put the arms in it, then we need to have it look like Nott escaped from there. Hermione, can you find out some more specific information on this muggle Fortress of Solitude? If they do their homework, we want them to believe our version is the same one."

"I can try, Ron," said Hermione. "It isn't a real place, after all. I might not be able to find out where it is supposed to be."

"Just come close, Hermione," said Harry. "There's a lot of ice up there. A few miles won't make much difference. Maybe your library will have something."

"I'll check but we need to act fast," she said. At the "What's the hurry?" looks she was getting she responded, "Nott died yesterday afternoon. How long do you think we can keep him around? That reminds me. Madam Pomfrey. Can you put his arm back on?"

"What in the world happened to his arm?" she asked. "You keep talking about moving these arms here and there. Please let me know what you are talking about." She had no knowledge of removing arms, being under the special obliviate spell while giving advice and instructions concerning it.

"We have to cut off the arms of all of our captured Death Eaters," said Hermione. "They can be traced so we store them in case we can put them back on later. You showed us how to remove them safely. They are in an abandoned mine shaft in Wales, right now. Tonight, we were discussing putting them under the north pole. We don't now how to put them back properly, though."

"What on earth have I gotten mixed up with," muttered the Nurse. Then she said, "I suppose I can put it back on, if you took it off correctly."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "Ron, I think if we put a general sort of a map in his pocket with a few words like "ice door" or "ventilation shaft" on it, that would do. We really can't wait until the actual cave is complete."

"I agree," said Harry. "As long as it looks like he came from the north, it will be good enough. All we have to do now is make his death look like an accident."

"It also has to look like it happened yesterday afternoon," said Minerva. "Voldemort will be able to tell when he died."

"I have it," said Harry. "Draw up that map, Hermione. As soon as Poppy sticks his arm back on, I'll put him on a stolen broom and we'll fly together into a tree near Riddle Manor. I'll pop off just before impact, of course. Eventually, they'll find his body, and the map."

"Sounds OK to me," said Ron. "Just make sure you jump in time."

"I'll try," replied Harry. "Now for the next thing we need to discuss. We discovered at the last meeting that I am able to detect the presence of other people when they are fairly close, within thirty feet or so. Later, I was discussing this with Remus and Tonks and we also noticed..."

"Harry!" interrupted Tonks. "I believe that we were only going to fill Minerva on that part of our operations. Perhaps you should take Madam Pomfrey back to her office before we proceed."

"Oh, of course," agreed Harry. "Just a minute. Poppy, could you please put Nott's arm back on tonight? I really want to plant his body. Night would be a good time to do it."

"I suppose I could," replied the nurse. "Where can I find the pieces?"

"Winky," said Harry.

"What can Winky be doing for Master," said Winky.

"Poppy," said Harry. "Would you rather do this in your hospital or in the Fortress?"

"I would probably be better able to put on an arm in my hospital," she replied. "If I needed anything, it would be at hand."

"Winky," said Harry. "Take Madam Pomfrey back to her office. Then bring Theodore Nott's Body and arm to her. When she reattaches the arm, take Nott back to the Fortress. Leave him by the statue."

"Yes, Master," said the elf and she took Poppy's hand and they were gone.

"As I was saying," continued Harry, "we discovered that I can detect a horcrux when I am within thirty feet or so of it. We have several locations that the Death Eaters have been watching with no reason apparent for them to be doing so. They might just be checking to see if there is any activity such as restoration or construction that might endanger the horcruxes. Naturally, not all of the places under suspicion would be used for this purpose. We have reason to believe that only three horcruxes are still lost. What interest Voldemort has in the other locations is unknown."

"You seem to be fairly certain of the number of these horcruxes, Harry," said Minerva. "How is that, exactly?" She had been briefed before the meeting but the details were definitely lacking.

"During last years special lessons with Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, indicating the watching portrait, "we uncovered that Tom Riddle believed that having his soul in a total of seven pieces would be the ideal. Three of the pieces have been found with two destroyed. One has to be in his body so that leaves three to be found."

"So I gather that you have a few likely locations to check?" she half asked, half concluded.

"Exactly," said Harry. "We are not sure if any of them will yield a horcrux but it is worth a shot. There doesn't seem to be any hard and fast rule on their locations. So far, one was in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, one was hidden in the Gaunt cottage and one was really very well hidden in a cave. We also believe that one of the remaining ones is the cup of Helga Hufflepuff. The nature of the other two is unknown."

"Harry," said Grampa, "Do you remember my theory of Nagini possibly being a horcrux?"

"Yes, Grampa," replied Harry. "Hermione, Ron and I have discussed it and think it is highly unlikely."

"Not that I would question your judgement," replied Grampa, "especially Hermione's, but how did you come to that conclusion? I thought it made perfect sense."

"It was the time involved, Professor," said Hermione. "Voldemort was already researching Horcruxes while still a student in the mid-forties. He was acquiring relics of the founders shortly after he left school. Even if we assume he spent ten years before he found our how to create them, which I doubt, given his tenacity and genius, that would have meant he would not have achieved his goal of six horcruxes in about twenty years. I don't think he is capable of that level of incompetence. He probably had all six horcruxes in place by the start of the first war or shortly thereafter."

"I think I see the problem," said Grampa. "It concerns time. The older you get, the more confused you get about what constitutes a long time versus a short time. A couple of decades is a fairly short time if you are approaching a century and a half years old. To young people like you, it is slightly more than a lifetime. I admit I probably misjudged the time Tom had to prepare his horcruxes. You are almost definitely correct in your evaluation, Mrs. Potter."

"It also means that we may be wasting our time with these locations," said Ron. "We have no records of any Death Eaters checking on the Gaunt house or the cave. This could be due to the proximity of the Gaunt shack to Riddle Manor. He might just have the house included in his own security zone or he might have already known that it is missing. It was seen on Professor Dumbledore's hand in the presence of Snape. He also knows that the diary is gone. Our hope is that he believes that the death of Professor Dumbledore will bring an end to the danger for his remaining horcruxes. I believe that he would not send anyone to check on the cave, in any event, due to it's extreme security measures and a desire to prevent anyone from even knowing it is a place of interest."

"Then why check the other locations so regularly?" asked Remus. He didn't have as detailed a knowledge of the known horcruxes and the circumstances surrounding their acquisition, but he did have a general ideal.

"I think he might have discovered a flaw in his plan after his attack on Harry as a baby. He needed access to a horcrux to regenerate. If the cave's security was the norm, it would have taken a Malfoy level Death Eater to even get to it. He found that Lucius was less than anxious to find him so he was stuck with Wormtail, who did not have the necessary skills to retrieve the locket or anything similarly hidden. After he regained his body, he would have moved at least some of his horcruxes to still secure, but more easily accessible, sites. The locket could be the only one left in such an impossible to get location as an emergency back-up."

"You mentioned that there are several location you wish to check for these three missing horcruxes," said Minerva. "Why haven't you been checking on some of these in the past?"

"Until recently," explained Harry, "today, in fact, we had no way of checking for a horcrux other than looking around. I doubt that I could get near Stonehenge, for example, with a pick and shovel without arousing suspicions so we were stuck. Now, I can tell if a horcrux is near. If we can narrow it down to a small site, we can do our excavations and get out, unseen."

"And what will you do if no horcruxes are found at any of these sites?" asked Tonks.

"I have no idea," replied Harry. "This is our best guess on how to proceed. If it turns up dry, we'll have to rethink everything."

"Let's hope that we get something, then," said Remus. "What else is up for discussion?"

"We still have Filch to deal with," reminded Hermione. "Is there anything he's good for?"

"Target practice," said Harry. Everyone chuckled. "He was Voldemort's spy. As far as we know, and believe me, he spilled his guts when I caught him, he doesn't have any inside information on their plans. Perhaps we can get a clue by finding out what Snape promised him."

"I want to speak to him, too," said McGonagall. She didn't look too happy. "I want to find out why he betrayed me after we've known each other for over twenty years."

"I expect he'll be very glad to see you," said Harry. At her confused look, he said, "I told him that he would live only if you were recovered alive. Otherwise..." He drew his finger across his throat.

They all sat in silence for a moment. Then Ron said, "I interviewed the other kidnapers. They had been doing some jobs for Snape. They seem to have been in the same group that Halsfer was in."

"Halsfer?" asked McGonagall. She had not heard of the particular name of the original assassin of the Dursleys.

"He was the Death Eater that we were fortunate enough to come across and impersonate," said Harry. "His job was to kill my relatives and draw me away from you." He paused as if thinking and then said, "I suppose I should check in on them at some point." He had almost forgotten that his aunt and uncle were now locked in an exitless flat in the Fortress. "Anyway, he told us that he was one of about twenty Death Eaters that had been assigned to Snape for his own operations. We have ten of them accounted for, either dead or captured. Halsfer was taken out of a deserted storefront window just before he was to meet with Peter Pettigrew for his orders. As far as he knows, or I should say, would know if we finished the obliviate spell, no time has elapsed since then. We can release him and he would never know he had been captured. We considered doing it just to mess with their minds but he might have other uses."

"Let's keep him around for now," said Ron. "It might be a good idea to have an unknowing Death Eater of his level available in case we come up with nothing after we check out these sites."

"Where are you going to go first?" asked McGonagall.

"Dryburgh Abbey is our first choice," said Harry. "It's right here in Scotland and it was checked just two days ago. By their normal rotation, it won't come up again for about two weeks."

"I've been there," said Minerva. "It is almost as old as Hogwarts but has been unprotected from the ravages of time."

It seems to be well outside normal apparating distance, Minerva," said Harry. "I haven't been there and don't know of any intermediate stops between here and there. If you do, perhaps you could take me there tomorrow and I could return for Hermione and Ron."

"It has been some time since I was there but I think I could manage that, Harry," said Minerva. "If I may ask, why do Hermione and Ron need to join us. Don't get me wrong," she said quickly, seeing their shocked faces. "I was under the assumption that only you could detect whether or not a horcrux was present. I just wanted to know if there was a particular reason that the others needed to accompany us."

"Of course, Headmistress," said Harry. "We are currently tracking the regular comings and goings of Death Eaters to approximately thirty-five sites in the British Isles alone. Unless this is a major deception to throw us off the scent of which site has the horcruxes, there might very well be other reasons to know what is going on that warrants such surveillance by Voldemort. Ron and Hermione will be looking for these alternative motives while I scan for the horcruxes."

"I see, Harry," she said, satisfied. "What time do you wish to leave?"

"I thought right after breakfast," said Harry.

"Very well," replied Minerva. "Meet me here in my office at nine o'clock. It is in southern Scotland so I suggest light muggle clothing. It is unusually warm for this time of year."

Harry took Tonks and Remus back to the Fortress office and then returned for Ron and Hermione. "Harry?" asked Ron. "Could you drop me off at Honey's classroom. We had a date tonight."

"Sure," said Harry with a smirk. "Just be ready to go tomorrow at nine."

"Will do," said Ron, completely unfazed. "I promise to have her tucked in by eleven."

Both Harry and Hermione decided to resist pursuing that conversation and, having dropped Ron into the literally open arms of Honey, they joined the others in the office.

"Where's Ron," asked Tonks.

"Snogging Honey," replied Harry. "I wish I could join him." He regretted saying it the instant it came out of his mouth.

"Draw one more breath and tell me what you really meant to say, dear," said Hermione, smiling coldly.

"I meant I would rather be snogging you than what I'm about to do," he replied. "Remember? I have to fly a very dead corpse into a tree at high speed." He looked out the window and, sure enough, the body was waiting for him.

"OK, Harry," said Hermione, softening up. "I'll help warm you up when you get back." She kissed him and the four of them walked over to the body. Harry decided he might need to put a bubble head charm on himself for the trip.

"I'll check with Molly to see if I can have Ginny or Ron's old broom," he said. "They both have Firebolts now."

"If you're going to the Burrow, Harry," said Remus, "could you drop us off? It's pretty late already and it would save us some time to get back to Grimmauld Place."

"Sure," said Harry. He offered each an arm, and with a last kiss from Hermione, they were at the Burrow.

Remus and Tonks left immediately and Harry went in to talk to Molly and Arthur. After a few pleasantries, he left with Ginny's old Cleansweep 6. He returned to the Fortress.

"I put a map in his pocket with some comments about ice and caves. How are you going to hold him and fly at the same time?" asked Hermione. Nott had definitely started to become less than huggable.

"I'm thinking levicorpus," said Harry. "I don't want him on the broom with me at all."

"Good luck, dear," said Hermione. She stood back and waited for him to leave. She felt that a nice hot bath was in both of their futures when he returned, and not just for romantic reasons.

Harry grabbed Nott's robes and apparated to the Gaunt cottage. It looked about the same as from the pensieve but there really wasn't any way for it to look worse, so this was expected. Harry performed the levicorpus on Nott's body and flew him away to the north, taking note of a few large trees on the way. When he was about five miles out, he turned and made a high speed run towards Riddle Manor. It wasn't nearly as fast as he could have done on his Firebolt but it was still almost one-hundred miles per hour. About five hundred yards out, he dove towards a large elm tree he had noticed and let go of the broom while changing to a dragon just before he hit. He watched as the body and broom smashed into the trunk and fell to the ground, seemingly hitting every branch on the way. Satisfied that it would look like an accident, he turned back into a man and apparated back to his rooms before he started to fall.

Hermione was waiting with his bath robe and towels and the rest of the night went very well indeed, thank you.

September 23rd, 1997

"Winky," said Harry. "Thank you." Harry had given up on trying to be polite in asking her to come when he called and contented himself with being polite after she arrived. "Tell me of anything unusual that my aunt or uncle have done since they arrived here." He was sitting in the sitting, or common room of Hermione and his rooms. It was just past seven o'clock and he wanted to start planning his day.

"Yes, Master," said Winky. "Master's uncle is not happy but he is not trying to hurt Master's aunt. He is not knowing what to do without being able to see his telly. Winky is not knowing what a telly is being so Winky is not being able to be bringing it to him. Master's aunt is being better. She is happy cleaning and she is asking for flowers in pots. She is liking to be taking care of flowers. She is asking Winky to bring Master's uncle magazines on fishing. Winky is not knowing where Winky is being able to find magazines on fishing, Master."

"I think I can come up with those," said Harry. It sounded like they were adjusting, at least for now. He knew his uncle liked to fish and his aunt liked flowers but he didn't think that either activity would keep them satisfied for long. Some long term planning would be needed in that area. The problem would be that neither would be able to do anything in Hogwarts or on it's grounds due to the muggle repelling charms. He would check with McGonagall or perhaps Flitwick on that. The Fortress didn't seem to have been covered by the charms, probably due to it's being unknown to the casters. He decided to wait to visit them until he had some more information.

"Thank you, Winky," he said. Then, after rummaging in his money pouch unsuccessfully for a few seconds, he asked, "Winky, could you please bring me a few hundred pounds of muggle money? I will be doing some traveling in their world for a while and will need some cash."

"Yes, Master," she said and disappeared. Harry had just enough time and wits to wonder if he should have explained further that he wanted a few hundred pounds by denomination instead of weight before she returned. She had understood his meaning, fortunately, and handed him eight hundred pounds in twenty pound notes.

"Is that being enough muggle money, Master?" she asked. Her presence reminded him of something else. Normally, she would be the last person he would discuss this with but things seemed to be backwards in the elf world so he decided to press on, choosing his words carefully.

"Winky," he began, "Dobby was very important to the day to day running of my life. I don't expect to find anyone who could replace him but I will need another house elf. They would need to be able to do almost anything, like Dobby. I would like for you to interview any house elves who would like the job and I will hire whomever you decide on." He hoped that he had shown enough praise for Dobby and trust in her judgement to prevent her from being insulted at the task.

"Winky is Master's house elf, Master," said the small elf. "Winky is able to be doing anything that Master wishes."

A total rejection of her suggestion that she could do the work of two house elves would insult her, he knew but he also knew that even Winky would be overworked. "Dobby did a great deal for me, Winky," he began. "I am planning on doing some traveling in the near future and would like to have an elf accompany me. I don't think that you would be able to take care of Grimmauld Place, the Fortress with it's guests and prisoners as well as join me on my journeys without having to let something slide a little." He hoped she could see reason.

"Winky is thinking that Master is being right," said Winky, reluctantly. "Winky should be with Master and Mistress. Winky will find another elf to be doing what Winky can't."

"Fair enough," agreed Harry. Winky would want to be with him as her master so he decided to accommodate her. "I will need to set them up at Gringott's with household money. Let me know when you choose someone."

Harry and Hermione came down for breakfast at around a quarter after eight. Ron and Honey were already there, enjoying their morning time together. Professor McGonagall had apparently not objected to Honey eating with Ron at the Gryffindor table. She had such a baby face that she blended in and, with the other unauthorized blonde at the table sitting next to Dougal, it didn't seem like a big deal anymore. They would normally have class with Triffle and her today, but their field trip would cause them to miss Potions and whether or not they made Transfiguration would depend on when they returned. Harry didn't mention it to anyone, but the main reason he decided to go in the morning was he didn't want to miss an opportunity to skip Potions.

"You three had better start getting more subtle or everyone will know you're leaving the castle today," said Ginny, quietly. She continued with her cauldron cakes as if she said nothing. Harry, Hermione and Ron all looked at her, astounded. She huffed impatiently and said, in an even softer voice, "Your robes are completely buttoned up. You never do that. I can only assume you aren't wearing your school clothes underneath."

"Any other tips for future use, Sis?" asked Ron. He was starting to radiate embarrassment at their joint stupidity.

"Hermione doesn't have her book thing and Harry isn't complaining about Potions class," she responded. "As for you, dear brother, you might as well have a beacon on your head. Maybe Honey can find a way to get your blood to flow someplace more useful."

Honey started to turn crimson at this suggestion. Ginny sighed and said, "I pity your children."

"I think it's time to go," said Harry, getting up. Hermione followed silently while Ron and Honey shared a quick, highly charged kiss. They had both simultaneously had the same thought about what Ginny had said.

The three students left the hall quickly and, as soon as they were out of sight of anyone, Harry apparated them to the Headmistress' office. They were a good fifteen minutes early but they needed to get the hell away from Ginny. Shedding their outer robes, they waited in their muggle clothes for McGonagall.

At a minute or so before nine, she arrived, seemingly oblivious to their earlier embarrassment. "Are we all ready now?" she asked to the group in general.

"Yes, Headmistress," said Hermione for them all.

"Very well," said Minerva. "Harry, after you take us to a place outside of Hogwarts, I will take over. We will be stopping off at a small town called Westmuir which is just north of Dundee. That is a fairly good midpoint and I am familiar with the area. We'll continue on from there to Dryburgh Abbey."

Harry let Minerva grab his arm and he took her to the shrieking shack.

"Where are we, Harry?" asked Minerva, automatically. The inside of the shrieking shack was not for the faint of heart.

"We're in the shrieking shack, Minerva," replied Harry, using a calm and steady voice. He wanted her to feel confident before their trip.

"Oh, I see," replied McGonagall. She had always been in on the real use of the shack and it didn't upset her like other people. "Well, grab hold." She extended her arm for him.

Harry grabbed Minerva's arm, perhaps a little too strongly. He was used to being the apparator, not the apparatee and it was a little strange for him.

"I need my blood to flow to all the right places, too," she said with a smile. Her hearing was, as usual, at peak performance this morning. "Please relax just a bit." Harry felt himself blush a bit but complied.

They apparated to a field outside a small town. No one was around except a few cows in a pasture. Minerva caught her breath and then apparated again. This time they were standing next to a pair of large trees facing the ruins. To their left was a small stone footbridge over a stream that ran behind them. The remains of the abbey lay before them. Harry looked around briefly to see if they were being observed and then left for his wife and best friend. About thirty seconds later, he returned.

Minerva was wandering over to the great walls. It was a jumble of contradictions. In some spots, the four foot thick walls had been totally destroyed while nearby, a fragile round window with a spindly stone flower design was completely intact. A massive pavilion of some sort was flanked on both sides by only rubble. A beautiful archway, that reminded them all of the entrance to Hogwarts led from open space to open space.

"This abbey is a hundred years younger than Hogwarts," said Minerva to them all. "No magic was used. It took generations of monks to build it." She sighed. "It was destroyed long ago by the English armies. One time it was destroyed simply for ringing it's bells after a Scottish victory. No one has lived here for four centuries, now."

She seemed to feel the pain of it's loss, even now. They let her roam in her thoughts. They had work to do.

Harry, of course, had to walk the entire grounds. The reports from the elves monitoring the place showed that visiting Death Eaters would appear at various locations, usually near dusk. They would wander about for a half hour or so, not always in the same areas and then leave. Only one medallion was needed to cover the entire enclosure and most of the grounds. The movements of the visitors were recorded by marking their grid coordinates whenever they changed directions. Harry now saw in perfect hindsight that a few landmarks that could be referenced by someone visiting the sites would be of more use. He intended to have fairly rough maps made of each area under surveillance and then just draw the movements on them when they were visited.

He started his search pattern along the westernmost wall. They had done a few tests with both people and the horcrux and found his maximum range to be thirteen yards. They decided to keep his paths no more than twenty yards apart to ensure a little overlap on each pass. Harry found it hard to keep his mind from wandering. He was thinking about the years it must have taken to build this place. The generations of use and centuries of neglect. It was true that Hogwarts was older but this abbey looked it's age.

Ron and Hermione were also walking about. They were looking for anything that suggested other uses that the Death Eaters might have for Dryburgh Abbey. Perhaps a place to leave a message or to store a portkey for future use. Again, the possibility was there but no real indications of anything.

Harry had finished the central courtyard and was about to walk around to the other side of the east wall when they were all startled by a voice calling them.

"Oy!" shouted a middle-aged man at the head of a small group of people. He left the stragglers to hurry after him and quickly approached the eldest and nearest member of the Hogwarts party; Minerva McGonagall. She waited patiently for him as he approached. Harry and the others started to converge on their position.

"Good morning to you, ma'am," he said, taking off his hat. "My name is Angus McHandle. I am the caretaker and tour guide of this Abbey."

"How do you do, Mr. McHandle," replied McGonagall. "I am Minerva McGonagall." By now the students and tour had all arrived. "This is my daughter Hermione, her husband, Harry and their friend, Ron."

"Pleased to meet you," said McHandle, politely. "Did you come out early from St. Boswells, miss?"

"No," replied McGonagall. "We started out early this morning and have just been wandering around, enjoying the countryside. I visited here many years ago and wanted my family to see it, as well."

"I see," said Mr. McHandle. "Perhaps things were different the last time you were here but nowadays we find it necessary to charge a wee bit to pay for the upkeep of the old abbey."

"I understand entirely," said McGonagall. "We would be happy to contribute to such a worthy cause. How much would be required?"

"It's four pounds fifty per adult, which you all seem to be. If you were a bit older, we have a discount for the elderly," said McHandle, inadvertently making Minerva's day. "That includes the tour, of course."

"No problem at all, Mr. McHandle," said Harry, pulling out a few bills. "We have toured Scotland for a while now and prefer to just view it at our own pace, if that wouldn't be a problem." He handed the man one-hundred pounds.

"Take your time and enjoy the day," said a suddenly much more helpful Mr. McHandle. "If you have any questions, just ask. Good day to you." He wandered after his tour in much higher spirits.

They all continued their wanderings, Harry being just paranoid enough to check his medallion as he walked near the tour group. Nothing. He finished the outside of the east wall and proceeded around to the north end where he found a small room with an arched roof still intact. He didn't know if the stained glass windows were original or put in yesterday but they fit well. Harry went through the north entrance to join Ron and Hermione at an obelisk. It was a newer addition seemingly commemorating someone named Hugh de Moreville. They didn't know who he was but they did know that they had no idea what interest Voldemort had in this place. Harry had completed his walk without the slightest inkling of a horcrux.

They walked back to McGonagall, who was waiting on a flat piece of stone at the south end of the once mighty east wall. She had tears running down her cheeks.

"What's wrong, Minerva?" asked Hermione, sitting next to her and taking her hand. She had always seen McGonagall as the rock of Hogwarts. To be crying for no apparent reason was most unsettling for her.

"I was just thinking," replied Minerva. "If Voldemort wins, Hogwarts would probably look like this someday." She smiled at them and got up. "Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked.

"Not yet," said Harry, "but I found a reason to keep searching." He now shared her vision and vowed in his heart that it would never be realized.

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long for this chapter but we're sort of shifting course from preparations to implementation. Also, I spent most of the week sneezing. Darn colds.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38 - Tying Up Loose Ends

September 23rd, 1997

"Hello, Filch," said Harry as he came into view. Argus Filch didn't look like he had had a lot of sleep. Harry had dropped off yesterday's Daily Prophet earlier; the one with the story about McGonagall's torture, and imminent death. Harry had told Filch that if McGonagall lived, he would live; if she died, he died. Reading stories about how the healers had given up hope and it was only a matter of a few hours didn't help to make him look forward to Harry's next visit.

"How ...how's Min ... Min ... Minerva?" he asked. He was shaking like the proverbial leaf.

"You tie a ribbon around her and hand her to Lord Voldemort without a second thought and now she's Minerva?" asked Harry with growing anger.

"I mean Headmistress McGonagall!" shouted Filch in terror. He was almost in tears from fright. Harry might have pitied him if he didn't know he deserved every second of it.

"The Headmistress is back home at Hogwarts," said Harry. "She said she would rather be here than a hospital when her time comes." That was true, if misleading.

"She's still alive, then?" asked Filch, his heart beating just a little faster.

"Last time I checked," said Harry, sadly. "If you have any information that is useful, now is the time to tell me. I'm afraid Ron and Hermione are arguing over the best way to dispose of you right now. Ron thinks we should cut you into little pieces."

"What does Hermione think?" asked Filch out of shocked curiosity.

"Big pieces," said Harry. "So, what's it going to be, Filch? Anything that might persuade us to be merciful?"

Filch broke down. Dropping to his knees, he shouted, "I don't know nothing! I didn't know that they wanted McGonagall until I got the owl from Snape! I was just supposed to spy on you!"

"That didn't seem to stop you from betraying her, though," replied Harry, coldly.

"I didn't have any choice," cried the old squib. "Once I was in, they told me to do as I was told or they'd kill me."

"And what exactly did you think that I'd do when I caught you?" asked Harry. He was staring at Filch now, looking for anything he could use.

"Why do you think I made a run for it?" asked Filch, a little sarcastically. "I was dead either way." He sat on his cot and cried, holding his cat.

"What were you promised?" asked Harry. "What was the price for your soul?"

"Money, of course," replied Filch. "A thousand galleons a month with a bonus for anything important."

"It's still September," said Harry. "Did you even have time to collect anything?"

Filch remained silent. He turned away from Harry out of embarrassment, as much as shame.

McGonagall had heard enough. Throwing back the invisibility cloak that Harry had lent her, she walked up to the glass. "You bastard!" she shouted. "You didn't even have the brains to sell me to Voldemort? You did it on credit?" McGonagall had heard of some stupid criminals in her day but Filch took the cake.

"Professor!" shouted Filch, lunging for the wall. "Thank God, you're alive!" He was shaking again, this time in relief.

"Yes," said McGonagall, "I'm alive. No thanks to you. Harry saved me, of course." She was still furious at how cheaply he had sold her. "He had to risk his life to do it and it cost him a dear friend but he undid your treachery." She paced back and forth for a bit, her anger getting the better of her when she thought of the damage that was done by the man in front of her.

"I didn't know what they wanted you for," pleaded Filch, pointlessly. "I didn't know that they were going to torture you."

"What in the world did you think Voldemort would do with her?" shouted Harry. He, too, was still angry with the fool in the cell. "At the very least you should have known he was going to kill her when he was done." He started to mimic Minerva by pacing in a circle.

"I didn't know what else to do," moaned Filch. "I only wanted to make some money by spying on you. Nott was supposed to do the dirty work, like his father." He was getting hysterical now. "I never meant to hurt anyone. They said I had to help them or I'd die." He was huddled on the floor now, his cat nuzzling up against him.

Harry stopped his pacing. He needed to get the full measure of the man before deciding his fate. "Filch," he said, "Minerva is back, safe and whole. I lost my most faithful servant, though. You must make atones for Dobby and then I might release you, though where you would go is beyond me. Your master has lost ten Death Eaters this time around, including Bellatrix Lestrange. I doubt he would welcome you. Still, if you do something to make up for Dobby, I will consider your release."

"Of course, of course," said Filch, eagerly. This was more than he could hope for. He didn't notice McGonagall confront Harry and him waving her off. "What do I have to do?"

"An eye for an eye," said Harry. "You caused the death of Dobby. Kill your cat right now or the deal's off."

Filch shuddered and backed away from Harry and his cat. He didn't notice Harry pulling out his wand and holding it by his side. "Kill Mrs. Norris?" he asked, in shock. If he loved anyone, it was her.

"It is your only chance," said Harry. "You have ten seconds to decide." He made to look at his watch but held his wand behind his robes.

Filch thought for only a second and then went to grab his cat. With tears streaming down his eyes, he put his hands on her throat and ... froze. Mrs. Norris squirmed out of his clutches and hissed at him from across the cell.

"Finite incantatum," said Harry, releasing him. Filch fell to the floor. "I just wanted to see if you would put anyone's life before your own," said Harry. "Mrs. Norris is quite possibly your only friend in the world but you didn't hesitate long for even the chance at freedom. You told me earlier that she was also spying on me, so I guess you deserve each other. Enjoy your time here."

Harry restored Filch's cell to silent mode and he and Minerva walked out of the cell block.

They arrived at the office of the Fortress of Solitude around fifteen minutes to eight. Slider and the ten volunteer house elves would be there at eight o'clock. This was Minerva's first visit so everything was new. Harry had arranged for Martha to meet McGonagall and give a brief talk about her department. Martha had been, of course, a former student but it had been eight years so they pretty much needed to start their relationship from scratch. Martha had determined that in most cases one elf could monitor up to four maps. The exceptions were the Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley and Buckingham Palace, due strictly to the number of visitors at any given time. She also kept one elf and herself free to assist any of them if they should get busy for some reason. Although it never arose, she could also call on the data entry elves for further help if required. They were currently monitoring thirty five areas and had seating and map space for thirteen more. Data entry was a full time job for two elves on each shift.

They finished with the short tour with five minutes to spare. Minerva took the time to look around the main office. Ron and Hermione had arrived.

Walking over to Hermione, she said, "That is quite the book case you have there, Hermione." She had seen it before but never in operation. Hermione was researching something and had already removed several books from the small case.

"I find it very useful, Mom," said Hermione, remembering her introduction from this morning but still surprised at her own cheek.

McGonagall looked a little surprised, too, but also knew the origin of the comment. "I see," she said, trying to think of an appropriate witticism. She was distracted as Hermione took out three more books. "How many books do you have in there, my dear?" she asked.

"Around forty thousand, give or take," answered Hermione. "It was a present from Harry and Dobby." She looked back at the bookcase with fond memories of the elf who enchanted it.

Minerva might have been shocked but she held it in. "That explains the lack of book shelves behind your desk," she mused. She continued around until she got to the trophy case. She smiled as she looked inside. Only the one plaque was evident, of course. After reading it, she turned to Harry in a teasing manner and said, "Is your medal out getting polished?"

"It is being held in a place of higher honor," said Harry. "Dobby has it around his neck, along with one from Professor Dumbledore. We both thought he deserved them."

Minerva was silent. After a moment, she said, "I am now starting to understand just how much of a loss Dobby was. I hope that your mission will be able to succeed without him."

Just then, several pops were heard outside and a group of elves stood waiting.

"His heirs have arrived, Minerva," said Harry with a smile. "We will continue; stronger than ever."

The elves were a somber group. Slider was there with nine others. Harry knew a few of them including Jumper and Sleepy, both of whom had already been on a mission. Harry got right to business.

"Good evening, everyone," he said. "Thank you for coming." Again, he was surprised by the lack of multiple responses. They had figured out group speaking dynamics fairly quickly. "I want to say first off, that I understand the sacrifice that you are all willing to make. Being freed is seen as the worst thing that can happen and you are willing to accept that in order to more fully help us fight Voldemort. I want to assure you that none of us here, including Headmistress McGonagall, will think, or could for that matter, any less of any of you." He was trying to project pride in them as he talked and it seemed that the Fawkes assisted speech was working. "As I have said before, our one example of a willingly free house elf, Dobby, did nothing but bring honor to you all. He was still able to perform all necessary duties with a level of professionalism that I find astounding, even now. Do not be afraid of being a worse elf for being free." He paused to allow any comments from the audience. Hearing none, he continued.

"As I am sure Slider has explained to all of you, this is strictly a volunteer group. It has the potential, as Dobby found out, to be extremely dangerous. Although I hope to avoid direct confrontations with Voldemort in the future, we will almost certainly be engaging Death Eaters. Some of these have nearly as much ability as Voldemort himself. There may be more deaths. The only advantage that your freedom brings is the ability to join us on offensive strikes. I have seen first hand the power of an elf. Dobby had Voldemort backing away. If he hadn't sacrificed Bellatrix Lestrange by calling for her to help him, I have no doubt that Dobby could have seriously injured him. For reasons that must remain secret, he can not be killed, yet. Making him mortal again is our most secret goal and the purpose of all we do. If anyone has any questions or concerns, now is the time for you to ask them."

"Harry Potter," said Sleepy. "When you is asking for help with the saving of Mistress, you is not ordering Dobby to help. Is this being the way of all trips with Harry Potter?" She wanted to know if they had to fight, despite the odds.

"This is, and will remain, an all volunteer team," said Harry. "I will not order anyone to follow on any mission. I will ask, however, that if you think you might not be up to fighting in general, that you withdraw and allow someone else to join this team. Naturally, last time, where we were going to fight Voldemort in unknown conditions, would be the worst case. If you think that anything less dangerous would be within your abilities, you would be fine."

"Mistress," said Slider. "Many elves is wondering if we is still being able to be Hogwarts elves if we is being free." He wanted to know if they would still have jobs.

"Of course, Slider," said McGonagall. "I have no doubt that you would still be loyal to the school and myself. I will also take back any elf that wishes after the war is over, free or not." This seemed to have a heartening effect on the elves. To know that they were welcome and could become slaves again, if they still wished it, relieved them all.

"Harry Potter," said Jumper. "What is being happening to the other elf fighting groups?"

Ron took this question. "We will still need and use those groups," said Ron. "Providing anti-apparition wards, defending the group and recovering any wounded will still be important jobs. This group will simply add to the abilities of our forces."

"Any other questions?" asked Harry. No one spoke so he continued. "I guess that only leaves the clothes." The elves involuntarily shuddered. "Hermione had some thoughts on that, I believe." He turned to her and waited expectantly.

She looked a little unnerved, as usual in front of a group, but soldiered on. "Good evening," she began. "I was doing a little thinking about how Harry described Dobby's courage and his fight with Voldemort and I came up with this." She held up what was obviously a tea towel transfigured into small robes. They were solid red with three gold letters embroidered on the chest; "H F E". "These are cloaks so they count as clothes. The letters stand for Hogwarts Free Elf and the color is taken from one of the bravest armies in history. The Spartans wore red cloaks so that the enemy couldn't tell if they were wounded. You are also brave, so I thought it appropriate."

Harry looked at the cloak, as did Ron, Minerva, Slider and the rest of the house elves. He thought that red cloaks to hide their blood was a bit melodramatic, not to mention a little unsettling, but he could leave it to the elves themselves.

Minerva gave Harry a look that pretty much said she felt the same as him. She, too, said nothing.

The elves grouped together a little to the side and talked softly among themselves. They kept sneaking peeks at the cloak and then going back to their discussion. Finally Slider, as head elf, said, "We is wishing to be thanking Mistress Potter for thinking of the house elves and how we is to be getting clothes. We is deciding that we is being honored to be clothed as brave wizard army is and we is ready for Mistress to be giving us cloaks."

McGonagall looked at the elves and then at the cloak in Hermione's hand. She then had a question for Slider. "Slider," she asked, "If I transfigure your tea towels while they are on you and then give them to you, would that be sufficient to free you?" She new the basics of freeing an elf but had never done it before and wasn't sure how far they could bend the rules.

"If Mistress is doing as she says and is also putting her hand on the elf who is being given clothes and says, "I give you this cloak.", then Slider is thinking that is being good enough," replied Slider after a moments thought.

McGonagall walked up to Slider and said, "I am proud of you all for doing this. I want to repeat that this in no way is a punishment and that you do not have to leave Hogwarts. At any time, any of you can request to be made a slave of Hogwarts again and you will be welcomed back." She drew her wand and waved it at Slider. His tea towel transfigured into a copy of the cloak that Hermione held over her arm. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she said, "I give you this cloak, Slider." McGonagall and Slider both felt a rush of magic pass between them and then it was over. The witch felt no different but the elf was unbound for the first time in his life and he felt the loss of the connection. He was free. Only his oath to help Harry Potter kept him from rushing back to McGonagall to be enslaved. He stood to the side as the next elf, Sleepy, took his place. One by one, all of the elves were freed.

When it was over, Harry addressed them again. "I thank you again for your sacrifice. Together, we will defend the world against the enslavement of Voldemort. Tomorrow we will discuss the new ways that you will be able to help." He turned to Hermione, a little confused. "Hermione, how will we call this group when we need them?"

"Either by name or," she paused and smiled to herself. "Slider. If we call just for the Hogwarts Free Elves, will you all be able to hear us?"

"Yes, Mistress Potter," said Slider. "We can be hearing whatever name we is wanting to be hearing." He looked at the rest of the red cloaked elves and they all nodded. "We is being coming whenever you is calling for the Hogwarts Free Elves."

"Thank you, Slider," said Harry. "Thank you all. We will call you tomorrow. Hermione is always in some class or another but Ron and I will be able to start your training in the morning. For now, good night."

After a round of "good nights", the four of them were alone again, except for the elves in the map room. Martha had gone back to her flat.

"If you'll all excuse me," said Ron, "I have a date with a beautiful witch." He walked over to the right side of the statue and apparated away.

"I'm sure you remember the other end of the apparition point, Minerva," said Harry.

Minerva nodded and said, "I suppose that I should try it myself, unless you have further need for me tonight." She made to head for the statue but was held back by Hermione.

"As a matter of fact, we do, Headmistress," she said. "Harry's relatives are in one of the flats we have here," she indicated the large structure before them, "and we need your advice on how to make them feel a bit more at home. We have tried to come up with a few things that may occupy their time but they are muggles, after all, and can't roam around the castle or grounds." While they were out in southern Scotland, Harry had stopped and bought a few fishing and general sportsman magazines for his uncle. Winky had taken them to him, along with an assortment of potted plants for his aunt that Winky herself provided.

"I'm glad that there aren't any impressionable children around because I never thought I would have to say these words," said McGonagall. "You are slightly mistaken, Hermione." She made a point of looking scandalized. Laughing, she said, "Actually, it is a small but important distinction. As far as I know, they can not enter the castle at all. They can't enter the grounds without assistance. They can, however, walk on the grounds once they have entered. Perhaps Albus would know a way for them to enter the castle itself."

"That would help a bit," said Harry. "As long as the weather holds out, both of them have an outdoor activity or two that they enjoy. My uncle enjoys fishing and golf and my aunt is a gardener. She might even enjoy planting some flowers around the grounds, if that is OK with you, Headmistress."

"As long as she doesn't start plowing up the lawns," said Minerva, "I see no problem. You have my permission for fishing and gardening on the grounds although I would recommend that your uncle confine himself to the mountain streams leading into the lake. The lake itself is perhaps too dangerous for a muggle. I'm afraid Hogwarts lacks a golf course."

"Thank you, Minerva," said Harry. "I'll talk to them tonight. I have been putting off seeing them until I had something to say."

Minerva excused herself and walked over to the statue. She was standing near where Ron had apparated from and popped off to the Head's Suite.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" asked Hermione. She was more than willing to put it off for a few more months.

"They haven't heard anything for over two days," said Harry. "We're only bringing good news so I think it will be OK." He didn't look all that convinced but it was true enough.

Hermione reached out her hand and took his. With a smile, he apparated them to the sitting room of the flat Harry had assigned them. It was a three bedroom with a large kitchen. Harry thought the more room, the better, considering how things had ended up during their last meeting.

Harry had been in this room only once before. It was during the final stages of construction when he picked it as his relatives next home. The transformation was astounding. The bare rooms and walls had been furnished tastefully. Given the physical specifications of his uncle, Dobby had bought completely appropriate furniture. Large, overstuffed chairs were in abundance with a huge, welcoming couch dominating this room. Pictures of Scottish landscapes were on the walls. Several wall sconces held sufficient candles that, with the help of the fireplace, served to light the room. It was the window, though, that caught your attention. The large magical bay window looked out over Loch Katrine. The rugged hills on either side were barely visible in the twilight. The waning moon was still enough to light the ripples on it's surface.

Uncle Vernon sat sleeping in a chair turned to look out. In his hand was the travel guide Harry had bought that showed other scenes of Scotland. He did not hear the pop when they arrived. Aunt Petunia, however, did. She did not recognize the source, though and merely came in to investigate.

"Oh, my," she said, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. Harry noted that it was not a rubber glove that would have been normal at this time of night on Privet Drive. Instead it was a gardener's glove of thick cloth. At first, she didn't really know what to do, but noticing her sleeping husband in the chair, motioned for them to follow her to another room. They did so.

"I'm glad you finally came," she said in a slightly hushed voice. "When we got here, Vernon was in a rage but that Winky had his number and he calmed down. I tried to explain what was going on one more time and I think he finally had to listen. Of course he started up again when he realized that there isn't a door out of this house." She didn't sound like it was pleasant. "Winky was here, though. She showed me how to use the kitchen without gas or electricity. After a while, that other one, Dobby or something?" She looked for confirmation but didn't stop. "Anyway, he showed up and said that someone had been kidnaped. I remembered that you said that your wife was the one they wanted but Dobby said another name. I didn't quite get it, he was talking so fast. He left after a while and nothing happened for a long time. Around this time of night, Winky jumped up and shouted "Dobby!" and vanished. No one came by again until Winky dropped off some magazines for Vernon and some plants for me around noon. I asked her what had happened and she just muttered something about keeping secrets and off she goes again. What has happened?"

Harry looked at Hermione with resignation. This was not going to be the short meeting he had wanted. Still, he saw it from his aunt's point of view and realized how little she knew of current events.

"Well," he began, "everything we discussed went as planned. We faked your deaths perfectly. I was notified through official channels and acted surprised and all that. We expected the traitor at the school to try to stop Hermione from coming with me to Privet Drive. That was the first sign we failed to notice. No one tried anything. We made it to your house through the normal methods and still nothing. Our mistake was in thinking Hermione was the "she" they wanted. It turned out that they thought that Headmistress McGonagall was the leader of our group and they grabbed her when I was gone. Ron and the others assigned to the school still caught or killed nine of the ten kidnapers they sent but they had her. That was around two o'clock. We had no idea where she was but eventually found an elf that could sort of track her. Hermione, Ron and I along with Dobby and two other elves, rode towards her on brooms until we found her. Dobby and I went in to get her but Voldemort and one of his most powerful Death Eaters were there. Dobby fought Voldemort while I fought Bellatrix Lestrange and tried to rescue Minerva. Dobby was hit but I was able to kill Bellatrix. Fortunately, Voldemort chose to just escape and I took them both to our school hospital. That must have been when Winky left. Dobby was dying and she was his wife." Harry had to pause here. It was still a painful memory.

"Winky's husband is dead?" asked Petunia. She seemed shaken by the news.

"Yes," said Hermione. She continued on for Harry. "His funeral was yesterday morning. That's why Winky wasn't around. Our headmistress was also dying. Harry took her and the school nurse to the main hospital in London. They had to amputate her foot and all sorts of other things but she was too far gone for them to save. We heard that she was dying when we returned from Dobby's funeral."

"Minerva didn't die, though," said Harry. "It would take a very long time to explain why. The details aren't important, anyway, right now, but she is back at Hogwarts and well."

"The bad news is she was tortured into revealing that you aren't really dead," said Hermione. "She had no choice in telling this to Voldemort but it means that you will be at least some sort of a target until he is destroyed."

"So they will still try to kill us?" asked Petunia in panic.

"Not actively," said Harry, trying to put a nice face on a bad situation. "If you are recognized, they might consider killing you just for punishment. You aren't a threat to them so I doubt they will put any effort in the job but if they see you, they might try something."

Petunia calmed down a little. "That's pretty much where we are now, I guess. Are we ever going to be able to get out of here?"

"Actually," said Harry, "I have some good news about that. I was speaking to Headmistress McGonagall just a few minutes ago about this very problem. She said that you should be able to do gardening around the castle, at least while the weather holds up and Uncle Vernon should be able to do some fishing in the streams around here. Golfing might be a little harder but he could probably hit the balls around, if he wanted to. The only problem would be if you left the school grounds, you would need help getting back in. I think we can work something out with that."

Petunia seem to be heartened by the news that they would be able to get outside once in a while. "Will we be able to get a door, then?" she asked. No matter the view or amenities of the flat, it was still too much like a prison.

"A door wouldn't help that much," said Hermione. "This flat is a thousand feet or so underground in a cave. Magic is the only way in or out."

Petunia looked confused and then seemed to get a clue. Smiling, she said, "That's why all the views are so different. They aren't really windows, are they?"

"Not really," agreed Harry. "The Ministry of Magic has some like these and I thought it would make the flats easier to live in. We built them for people like you who needed a place to hide and be safe. So far, you are the only ones using it for that purpose. You have a neighbor named Martha who is running part of our office for us. She lives on the ground floor."

"When can we go outside?" asked Petunia. She had been cooped up long enough.

"Tomorrow morning, I guess," said Harry. "Ron and I are planning on training some elves for combat so I don't see why you can't come along and look around a little. Then, you can give Winky a list of seeds or whatever that you want to plant."

"If we are in Scotland, it might be too late for that," said Petunia. "You'd need a greenhouse or something to grow anything from seeds."

"Maybe Professor Sprout would have a corner of one of the greenhouses that you could use," suggested Hermione. She thought it would be a possibility.

"Greenhouses?" asked Petunia. "How many greenhouses do you have at your school?" She was losing her hatred of all things magical by finding common ground.

"Four large ones," said Hermione, "and two or three small ones for special plants. Maybe it is Professor Sprout that you should be discussing this with. I'll be seeing her tomorrow in class and arrange an appointment." She made a note for herself in her planner.

"Oh, that would be wonderful," said Petunia, excitedly. "I've always wanted to work in a real greenhouse. Gardening is something that I'm good at."

"It sounds like you'll be covered," said Harry. "How long will Uncle Vernon be satisfied with fishing?" He had never had the opportunity to fish himself but it didn't really sound like that much fun, anyway.

"I don't really know," said Petunia. "He isn't really the patient type. If the fish are biting, he's happy enough, though. He might work off his energy better by hitting a golf ball around, like you suggested."

"There's little enough point to golf as there is," said Hermione. "If you don't even have a little hole to aim for, it would be a total waste of time."

"I suppose that he could take an elf and go on day trips if we could find a golf course," said Harry. "Do you think there are any around here?"

"Harry," said Hermione, "this is Scotland."

"So?" asked Harry, totally clueless about local history and customs.

"Golf was invented here," replied Hermione. "He could play some of the most famous courses in the world."

"Sounds like fun," said Harry. "He'll probably need some new equipment, I suppose. I'll ask one of the elves to go as his bodyguard. Do you remember any of those muggle illusion charms that we used at our wedding?" They had charmed Dobby and Winky to look like small caterers so the muggles wouldn't be alarmed.

"Yes, I do," said Hermione. She hadn't forgotten a spell in her life. "Let's see if he even wants to play, first."

"Oh, I think he'll want to play," said Petunia, grinning. "He used to love the game when we were first married. Played every weekend with his friends." She smiled, remembering the happy first few years of their marriage.

"Well, it sounds like we have everything under control, then," said Harry. "When Uncle Vernon wakes up, let him know that Ron and I'll be by around nine o'clock to pick the two of you up, weather permitting. Remember, though. If you leave the grounds, you won't be able to get back without help."

"We'll be ready," said Petunia, warmly. She wasn't too bad when Vernon wasn't blustering around.

Harry and Hermione made their farewells and apparated back to their suite.

Around 10 o'clock, Winky arrived. "Good evening Master and Mistress Potter," she said.

"Good evening, Winky," replied Hermione. "How are you feeling tonight?"

"Winky is being happy that Winky is following Master's orders and finding a house elf to be replacing Dobby for Master." said Winky.

"Potter!" shouted Hermione. "What do you think you are doing, asking Winky to find another house elf?" She wasn't happy.

"There is too much work for Winky alone," said Harry, quickly. "We need someone to help her. I just asked her to find someone she thought would work out."

"Winky is doing just that, Master," said the elf, excitedly. "Winky is talking with Winky's sister, Dinky and we is thinking that Dinky's daughter, Slinky is being old enough to have her own master, Master." She looked so excited it calmed Hermione down. To an elf, getting your first master was like coming of age. "Is Mistress and Master wishing to meet Slinky?" she asked.

"Now?" asked Hermione. She was just about ready to head off to bed.

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky, misinterpreting the inflection, and popped away.

"Wait," shouted Hermione in frustration.

Harry decided that it was as good a time as any for some teasing. "A minute ago you were upset at the thought of getting another elf and now you can't wait?" he asked. "Sometimes I don't think you're as focused on this spew thing as you used to be." He smirked as she stuck her tongue out at him.

"It isn't spew," she corrected. "It's S.P.E.W. The, uh...School. No. Now I've forgotten." She was flustered at the entire exchange and Harry's laughter wasn't helping. She had no doubt that Ron would join in on the teasing in the morning. Fortunately, Winky returned to save her. She had what appeared to be a very young female elf with her.

"Master and Mistress Potter," she said, "this is being Winky's sister Dinky's daughter Slinky."

"Try saying that three times fast," said Harry to Hermione, under his breath.

"We're very pleased to meet you, Slinky," said Hermione, frowning at Harry.

"Slinky is being pleased to meet Aunt Winky's Master and Mistress Potter," replied Slinky, politely.

"Slinky is being taught to be a good elf by Dinky," said Winky. "Dinky's master isn't needing another house elf but Master is saying he is needing one. Is Master and Mistress wishing to be seeing Dinky's master?"

This was getting hard to follow. Hermione asked, "Winky, Slinky seems to be pretty young, yet. Are you sure she is ready to take over the care of a house as large as ours?"

"Slinky is being young but Dinky is being teaching her how to be a good house elf since she was much younger, Mistress," replied Winky. "Winky is also having some time to help Slinky if she is needing it."

"Hermione," said Harry. "I think that if we are going to get another house elf, that a family member of Winky's would be ideal. We already know that Winky will be able to help her out for awhile, until she learns the ropes. I can think of a lot worse ways for a young house elf to start their career. I think we should give Slinky a chance."

Both Winky and Slinky simultaneously put their hands to their cheeks in joy and then looked at Hermione for her reply. She looked at them both and threw her hands in the air in defeat. "OK," she sighed, "I give up. Winky, please make arrangements for us to meet with Slinky's master the first evening he is available."

"Winky is being doing this when Dinky's master is next being awake, Mistress," said Winky. "Master and Mistress is not being sorry. Slinky will be a good house elf."

"I'm sure she will be, "replied Harry. "She will be trained by an excellent house elf so I have no worries at all. Good night, Winky. Good night, Slinky.

Winky and Slinky both beamed at him before popping away. Despite himself, Harry was glad that their two elves would still be related. It would also be good for Winky; having someone to look after.

"Slinky seems so young, "said Hermione. Despite Winky's assurances, she wasn't sure the young elf was up to Grimmauld Place.

"Winky will help her when she needs to," reassured Harry. "Now, I want to do something that has been delayed for long enough."

"What's that, Dear?" asked Hermione, questioningly.

"We need to break in your birthday present."

September 24th, 1997

By seven o'clock the next morning, Phase One of the Slotted Nightgown Testing Project was complete. It was declared a success by both parties and they decided to move on to Phase Two that evening. Without a specific task or visit scheduled, Hermione was preparing for her normal classes. Ron and Harry only had Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon so they had some free time. Sitting in their office at their now usual pre-breakfast chat, Ron and Harry knew, of course, that they had already committed to meeting the Hogwarts Free Elves for a little initial training as an offensive force. Harry had already decided to spend quite a bit of the first meeting discussing how it was just practice. They had to do everything as if it was real combat except kill the opposing force. That was an important point he wanted them to remember. He knew what they were capable of and didn't want to waste any of it on needless injuries. He then had another thought that bubbled up from time to time.

"Ron," asked Harry, "what would you say was Voldemort's long term goal?"

Ron said, "To take over, of course." It was the automatic response that you would expect from a pureblood raised under the shadow of Lord Voldemort.

Harry nodded but then added, "What does that mean, exactly? Does he want total control of everyone's lives? Is it to be respected out of fear by anyone he sees? What would he consider to be his definition of winning?"

Ron looked confused. "I guess I'm not sure what you want to know, mate," he said. Then, thinking a little further, he added, "I don't know if I've ever given it much thought. What would you do if you were in charge of everything? Probably be bored silly."

"My point exactly," said Harry. "I was trying to think of why Voldemort would want to have his Death Eaters waste their time checking all these different places. Beyond that, why waste his time making sure they do it at different locations and with different partners. That's a lot of work. That got me thinking about the whole taking over the world thing. Why does he want it?"

"An interesting question, Harry," said Grampa. He knew the regular schedule of both Minerva and Harry and tried to listen in on both when he had the chance. "The normal answer, appropriate for normal megalomaniacs like Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, Napoleon and Hitler, was to leave their mark on history. In a nutshell, to be remembered. You see, everyone eventually realizes that their time is fleeting and that after they're gone, few will remember them. After those few are also gone, no one will ever know they existed. This has driven some to do great works. It might be in art, poetry, literature, invention and the like so at least their name will live on. Da Vinci was perhaps the most gifted of all in these endeavors. Those less talented have gone to the depths of inhumanity to cause such a shock that they will also be remembered. This is often attributed to some sort of insanity but the purpose is the same. Perhaps the most notable recent adherent to this practice was Jack the Ripper. It has been a hundred years since he terrorized London but he is also still remembered."

"But Voldemort has that already," said Harry. "People will not forget him for a very long time." Thinking further, he continued, "He also has the death thing figured out. If we can't find those last horcruxes, he will live forever. He can have it all."

"That is correct, Harry," replied Grampa. "If the prophecy is to be believed and you are the only one who has a chance to destroy him, his best plan might be to take a villa in the south of France and wait you out. A couple hundred years from now, he could start over and you would be long gone."

"Voldemort doesn't strike me as the patient type," said Ron.

"Actually, he is," said Harry. "He had to wait thirteen years to resurrect, he then spent almost a whole year to find out the contents of the prophecy and another year to get his crack at killing Grampa. The lull in activity just after school was another sign of patience while he waited to capture you or Hermione. He is capable of doing just what Grampa suggested, if he wanted to."

"But he isn't," said Grampa, "at least not yet. You are correct to wonder what he is up to, Harry. As for myself, I have no idea."

Ron's shoulders sagged at this comment but Harry was more optimistic. "We've only checked the one place so far," he said. "I think that we will start to see similarities as we do some more. Which one did we earmark for the next trip?"

"That lighthouse by Newcastle," said Ron. "Just a second." He got up and opened the door to the map room. "What's the name of that lighthouse you've been keeping an eye on?" he asked the room in general.

Several elves stood up but they glanced among themselves before one remained standing and said, "The name of the Lighthouse we is being watching is Souter Lighthouse, Master Ron."

"Thanks," said Ron and returned to his chair. "Souter Lighthouse," he said, triumphantly.

"That's right," said Harry, remembering now. "It should be visited by Death Eaters in a day or so. We go in the day after. Maybe we'll take the tour if there is one. We might learn something useful."

"It's a lighthouse, Harry," said Ron. I agree that it might have some interesting or useful points but I doubt it is where Voldemort would try to hide anything. I mean, it's a huge red and white striped tower with a huge light on top. Not exactly indiscreet, is it?"

"Hermione thought that it would be a very clever place to hide something," countered Harry. "Use a place that you couldn't miss with your eyes shut. Personally, I agree with you. About all I'm hoping for is to get a clue on why Voldemort is sending his men to watch it."

On this note, they left for breakfast.

It was a fine morning and Harry was in a good mood. For the first time since the kidnaping of Minerva, they had a fairly relaxed day ahead of them. Harry and Ron both liked Defense with Professor Coldiron. He tended towards the practical side of things. They also were looking forward to the first meeting with the Hogwarts Free Elves. If the truth were known, Harry had never liked the restrictions on the elf commando teams in the first place. They were basically good for support and cover. Now that he had some actually battle able elves, he was almost looking for a fight. If Dobby's abilities against Voldemort were any indication, ten elves against fifty Death Eaters would be a blood bath.

"Good morning, Honey," said Ron as she joined them for breakfast. After kissing her he added, "It looks like it will be a beautiful day. Any free class periods, today?" He wanted to get in some time by the lake before winter hit.

"I'm free for an hour after lunch," she said, a bit embarrassed about arranging a snogging session in full view and hearing of a dozen students.

"Bugger," said Ron. "We have Defense, then. Maybe later this afternoon, if it's still nice."

"Sounds lovely," agreed Honey and she reached for some toast and coffee.

"That reminds me," said Ginny. "How are the new nighties working out?" She casually continued with her bacon as if merely asking about a homework assignment.

Harry was about to comment on Ginny's new hobby of making embarrassing comments during breakfast when Hermione topped her.

"They are fantastic," she said, enthusiastically, although mercifully for Harry's sake, quietly. "I stayed warm as toast all night and Harry was still able to..."

"Hermione!" said Harry in a loud stage whisper. "Don't encourage her." He couldn't believe what was transpiring as he felt the blood rush to his face.

Ginny laughed. "Don't be that way, Harry," she said. "Some of us are just checking for when the opportunity arises." Now Neville turned red. Ginny noticed and said, "I meant when we are all married, like Harry and Hermione. I certainly don't think any of the rest of us will need that sort of equipment for quite a while." She looked at Ron and said, "Present company accepted, of course." This had the immediate effect of causing both Ron and Honey to join Neville and Harry.

"What sort of family am I getting involved with?" sighed Honey, finally smiling, in spite of herself. She was starting to feel a little more at ease after realizing that everyone was fair game in this group and she could get her shots in later.

"I would think," said Luna, "that you would already know, considering Ron and Ginny are the sixth and seventh Weasley children." She had become far more outgoing since effectively leaving the logically minded Ravenclaws for the fearless Gryffindores.

"I guess that was a clue," agreed Honey. "I wonder why they stopped at seven?"

"They finally got it right," said Ginny, the first girl born a Weasley for quite some time.

"Or they realized they had enough for a quidditch team already," said Harry. "Your family would do pretty well. Except Percy. Ron, didn't you say Percy never played?"

"He played at home but he didn't make the team," corrected Ron. "I think he might have made a fair chaser, though. Pretty good on accelerations and turns."

"If you are going to talk quidditch," said Hermione, "I'm going to go to the library." She started to collect her things.

"Don't leave, Hermione," said Dougal, "We can go back to discussing your sex life, if you want." He had been an observer for long enough, it seemed.

"We were talking about my nightgowns," said Hermione. "It was Ron and Honey's sex life that was the last topic, if you'll recall."

"We have to go, too," said Harry, indicating Ron. "We have to meet some elves for commando practice."

"You'd better work on your excuses, Harry," said Neville. "No one will believe that one."

Harry, Ron, Neville and Dougal kissed Hermione, Honey, Ginny and Luna goodbye respectively and everyone headed off for their first class or other activity.

Being just after breakfast, Harry knew that the elves would be busy for a while cleaning up. Harry and Ron went down to the Fortress to see if any early rising Death Eaters were about. For the most part, sleeping in was a prevalent characteristic of Voldemort's supporters. Harry arranged with Ron to meet at ten o'clock behind the quidditch stadium for elf practice. This would allow for some privacy with plenty of room to maneuver.

"So what sort of training do you want to start with?" asked Ron. He was of the opinion that most elves could already handle themselves pretty well.

"I think we need to concentrate the most on getting them to act quickly," replied Harry. "They are conditioned to give out warnings before using their power. We need to get them to stop doing that."

"Shoot first and ask questions later?" asked Ron. "You don't get many answers that way, you know."

"That's the problem," said Harry. "We need to teach them the distinction between too soon and too late."

"Not to mention too much and too little," agreed Ron. "I'll try to come up with a few ideas while you take care of the muggles."

"OK, Ron," replied Harry. He stood up and made the short jump to his relatives' flat.

He appeared in the sitting room as before. This time, however, both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were waiting for him.

"Good morning," he said, as they were busy jumping with alarm at his entrance. "It's a very nice day out. Are you both ready?"

"What exactly are we supposed to be ready for?" asked Uncle Vernon. He didn't look particularly malevolent so Harry went with a direct answer.

"As you know," began Harry, "you were brought here because Voldemort, he's the most evil wizard in a century or so, wanted to kill you. We faked your deaths but he captured and tortured the headmistress of this school. She revealed that you were not dead."

"So now this Voldy whatzit is going to keep trying to kill us?" asked Uncle Vernon in alarm.

"Probably not," said Harry, reassuringly. "As I mentioned to Aunt Petunia, if you were seen, they might still kill you. You don't have much to do with their plans, as far as we can tell, so I doubt that you will be hunted. Voldemort doesn't have so many followers left that he can have them doing errands like that without some sort of purpose."

"But we can't go where we would be expected," said Aunt Petunia, summing up, "like back home."

"No," said Harry. "I would expect that they will keep an eye out there. It is an obvious and easy location to check. Scouring the country for you would be completely different and is unlikely."

"So how long will we be here?" asked Uncle Vernon. Apparently, Petunia had helped him to realize that they had better be on Harry's good side, at least for now.

"Until I win," said Harry. "I am working hard on it all the time. In a nutshell, Voldemort has to be killed a piece at a time. We have destroyed two pieces. A third is in our possession with four parts to go. Only then will he be dead."

"I won't even ask what the bloody hell you're talking about," sputtered Uncle Vernon. "Your aunt said something about getting out of this place. What about that?"

"Let's do that now," said Harry, "and I'll explain what we can and can't do. Please take one arm each." He held out his arms.

Aunt Petunia hesitantly grabbed him by the hand but Uncle Vernon was a little leery. "What's going to happen?" he asked.

"I'll take you outside," said Harry. "As you noticed, there is no door. By the way, don't let go."

Uncle Vernon was still pretty unhappy but Harry had hit the nail on the head. This was the only way out. Finally, he grabbed Harry by the forearm. Instantly, Harry apparated them to the beech tree by the lake. They were unlikely to be seen from the castle unless someone was looking directly at them at the time.

This was only the second time that either Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia had been side-along apparated and the first time by a wizard. Naturally, they were a little disoriented at being one place, one second and then another place, the next. Harry released Aunt Petunia's hand and after a moment, Uncle Vernon let go of his arm.

Harry decided to start with Uncle Vernon. "This lake has a few good sized streams feeding into it. Aunt Petunia says you sort of like to fish so I would recommend sticking to the streams. The lake itself can be a bit dangerous. There are mer people at the bottom and a giant squid. Both are fairly safe but that might change if they had a hook caught in their lips."

Uncle Vernon didn't look like fishing was as much fun as he had thought and said, "I believe that golf was also mentioned." He could handle a little ball if he had a steel stick to defend himself.

"We are looking into that," said Harry. "There is an outside chance of being seen but I don't think that many Death Eaters hang out at golf clubs. We'll need to get some clubs for you until we can arrange for your own to be brought here. It might take a day or so to arrange. We also want to have an elf accompany you so that you would be safe; just in case."

"Don't you think one of those elf thingies would be a little obvious?" asked Uncle Vernon, returning a bit to his normal, arrogant self.

"We have spells to make them appear as we want to muggles," said Harry, remaining calm. "We had two of them that looked like caterers at our wedding."

"Harry's wife is very nice, Vernon," said Petunia. Harry was right; she was the brains of the family. She knew that if anyone could get them kicked out of their safe, fairly nice, temporary home, it was Vernon.

Uncle Vernon didn't get the hint but did change the subject. "Why did you bother?" he asked. "Don't all of your kind know about those elf things?"

"Uncle Vernon," said Harry, a little menacingly, "they are called elves or house elves, if you want to be completely proper. They are people like you and me and are not things. You'll pardon my frankness but one of them, a great friend, died during the operation that brought you here. His wife is Winky and despite losing Dobby, she is still taking very good care of you and Aunt Petunia. After I am finished getting the two of you settled, I will be meeting some more elves. They are volunteers who will be helping me fight Voldemort. They are also extremely powerful, as you found out with Winky. Just because they seem subservient, do not mistake them as less worthy of respect than you. As to why we disguised them at our wedding; Hermione is what we call muggle born. She is the only member of her family who is magical. Only her parents know she is a witch so we had to make arrangements for the rest of her family that could make it."

Uncle Vernon showed a moment of sanity and decided to say nothing. Harry then turned his attention to Petunia. "Aunt Petunia," he said, "Hermione will be speaking to Professor Sprout today and making an appointment for you to talk to her about using some greenhouse space this winter, if you are still here. In the meantime, you might enjoy just examining some of the plants and flowers already on the grounds. Headmistress McGonagall has given permission for both of you to have full access to the grounds and to engage in your leisure activities. These are assumed to be fishing and gardening with outside trips for golf, if possible. We are also going to be checking on ways for you to enter the castle itself, although that might not be possible. Tell me, are you able to see the castle?" He pointed at the school.

Both Vernon and Petunia looked towards the direction Harry pointed. "It looks like you could use a new maintenance department, if you ask me," said Uncle Vernon.

Aunt Petunia understood the question and simply said, "All we see are some old ruins. What does it really look like?"

Harry understood her curiosity. She was in a place that wanted to remain a secret to her. It was the next best thing to being blind. In some ways, it was worse; she didn't know if she could believe what she was seeing. Harry had already told them that muggles could be tricked. It must be very unnerving.

"It's beautiful," he said. He tried to inject a little Fawkes into his speech so they would look forward to the day they could see Hogwarts. "There are several towers, just like any castle. The two biggest are Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Towers. They are used mostly for dormitories. The tallest one is the astronomy tower and the other big one is North Tower." He was pointing at each as he spoke. Uncle Vernon saw nothing but the broken bases of long toppled ruins but Aunt Petunia could see an image taking form in her mind. "The entrance is a little hard to see from here but the Great Hall is just huge. It's nestled right in the middle, there. The walls of the courtyard connect the towers. The greenhouses are around back," he added to Petunia. "They are outside of the walls so maybe you can see them. Just a second." He looked around and moved a few feet over.

"Can you see that cottage over there?" he asked, pointing at Hagrid's hut. They came over to his vantage point.

"A small hut with what appears to be huge pumpkins behind?" asked Aunt Petunia. "Yes, it seems to be real."

"That's good," said Harry. "Chances are that everything outside of the walls are visible. That's Hagrid's house. You probably remember him. Large chap about ten feet high with a heck of a knock. Oh, that reminds me," he said, facing them both. "The fairly open areas around the lake and streams are safe enough but don't go deep into that part of the forest," he said, pointing towards the heart of the Forbidden Forest. "It is very dangerous, even to wizards."

"I suppose there is a giant that would grind our bones to make his bread, eh?" said Uncle Vernon, snidely.

"I don't think he eats bread," said Harry. "He does have quite an appetite, though. His name is Grawp and he is Hagrid's big brother. Hagrid has him pretty well behaved for a giant but I wouldn't want to test him."

Vernon and Petunia were silent. Clearly, they had a lot to learn.

"We should have some answers by the end of the day on the greenhouse and golf questions," he said, wrapping things up. "In the meantime, just look around. The greenhouses are around back. Either left or right around the castle is about the same distance. Classes are in session outside at times so be aware. If you see Hagrid teaching a class, there is probably a very dangerous creature around so stay clear. If you need anything or wish to return to the flat, just call out Winky's name and she will take care of you."

He left them to wander and joined Ron by the pitch.

Ron had set up some sturdy four feet tall poles topped with large cannon balls on springs. Dating the Transfiguration professor apparently had some dividends besides the obvious ones. Each was identified by a large number on the pole. On the left was Number 1 and on the right was Number 10. They were spaced five feet apart.

"I'm guessing target practice, Ron," said Harry as he walked up. It wasn't a difficult choice since that was exactly what Ron was using them for when Harry arrived.

"That and intensity practice," replied Ron. "That's what the springs are for. We can tell if the balls are hit hard or light." He demonstrated on Number 3. The first stunner caused quite a deflection in the spring, almost causing the iron ball to hit the pole. After it settled down, he hit it with another that barely caused a wobble.

"Good idea," said Harry. "We don't want them breaking someone in two if they scratch their nose the wrong way. What about the numbers?"

"Decision practice," answered Ron. "I'll give them a situation and then they have to respond with the right intensity at the proper target. For example, a young Death Eater that hasn't drawn his wand and is unaware of your presence would be a low intensity stunner at Number 1 while Snape shooting curses at you would be a reducto at Number 10. They need to know how to assess the threat level." Clearly, Ron had been thinking about this for a while.

"It looks good, Ron," said Harry, smiling. "Shall we call the commandos?"

Ron smiled like he did every time he heard the elves called by that term. "Let me," he said. Then, in a louder and more impressive voice, he intoned, "I summon the Hogwarts Free Elves."

Within a couple of seconds, they were surrounded by the ten volunteers, all dressed in their red robes. The gold letters shone brightly in the morning sun.

"Good morning, Master Ron. Good morning, Harry Potter," said the elves, not quite in unison.

"Good morning," replied Harry. "This is our first meeting so we will have to play it by ear. Ron has some exercises planned but first I want to find out about you a little more." He summoned all of the dozen dining room chairs he had prepared. He and Ron sat down but the elves were hesitant. "Please," said Harry, politely, "this will take just a few minutes so have a seat." Looking first among themselves and finally resting their eyes on Harry, they complied.

"Thanks," said Harry. "Now, even though you are free, there seem to be a few limitations on how you can deal with wizards. For example, Dobby couldn't apparate with a wizard without their permission. This could be a problem in battle. If a bystander got hurt and needed to go to the hospital, you wouldn't be able to help. Also, a stunned prisoner would be unable to be moved, as well. It that all correct?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Slider. "That is being a wizard law and house elves isn't being able to go against wizard law."

"Then why was Dobby able to attack a wizard," asked Harry, "namely Voldemort? Isn't it against wizard law for an elf to attack a wizard except to defend his house or master?"

"That is being a wizard law," agreed Slider. He was still head elf and would apparently do the talking.

"Then how did Dobby being free get around that law and not the one on apparating?" asked Harry.

"The law is that no house elf is popping a wizard without permission so no elf is being able to do that," explained Slider. "The law is that a house elf is only being able to be defending his master or his master's house. Dobby isn't having a master so the law isn't being for him."

Harry thought he understood. "So what you are saying," he summed up, "is that if a law refers to how an elf can deal with anything to do with his master or his property, that only applies to elves that have masters. Free elves would not be obliged to follow that law. That was why Dobby could help."

"That is being correct, Harry Potter," said Slider.

Harry understood. The elves followed the laws of the wizards faithfully but they could be pretty pedantic about it if they needed to be. A wizard would have taken the same law and inferred that a free elf couldn't attack anyone. The elves interpreted it to mean they could attack everyone, if they so chose.

"Ron," said Harry. "I think we need to see the Minister, again. Maybe we can have a law passed quietly that will allow the free elves to do some useful things like apparate wizards without permission."

"It's worth a shot," agreed Ron. "I think that we should have Hermione research the other laws on elves, as well. Maybe there's other things that could be changed."

"I agree," said Harry. "Until then, let's get on with practice." He stood up and the elves followed his example. Harry sent the chairs back to Grimmauld place and stood between the elves and Ron's targets.

"Let's begin our training," said Harry. "In a minute, Ron will take over. Before that, I wish to point out a few things. It involves priorities. I want to make sure that we are all on the same page with this. The first priority is the downfall of Voldemort. That is our reason for doing everything we do. Some of us may lose our lives in the pursuit of this. As soldiers in this war, we must accept this. However, we also must do everything in our power to prevent that when we are able. For the time being, Voldemort cannot die, so we will always try our best to keep ourselves safe. This concerns the next priority. We need to get as much information out of as many Death Eaters as we can. That is what the maps are for and why we have so many cells. We will need to constantly get more so our information is up to date. For this reason, I wish to take as many of them alive as we can. Again, our own lives are more important than any Death Eater. If we have to, we must kill them before they kill us. Of course, on an individual level, this would be a last resort. In the case of a large battle, however, we must do what we have to in order to get the rest to surrender. Simply stunning them will do no good if there are plenty of their friends around to enervate them. The first attacks on a large group will have to involve killing some of them. When the time comes, will you be able to do this?"

The elves were silent. Slider was apparently in deep thought at this question and the others were waiting for his response. Finally, he said, "Harry Potter. We is not choosing to kill any wizards but we is following orders. If Harry Potter says we must kill wizards in a battle, we will kill wizards but we is not choosing to do this." In other words, they would kill for him but he would take the blame.

"I understand, Slider," said Harry. "I will only make that order when absolutely necessary. I do want you to know this; if you find yourself in a situation where it is your life or a Death Eater's, I want you to save yourself. No Death Eater is worth an elf's life."

"We understand, Harry Potter," said Slider, solemnly.

Training went pretty well for a first day. While it was true that the elves had power to spare, they hadn't exactly been spending their days practicing. Subtlety seemed to be the hardest concept to learn. When an elf was forced to defend their master or house, it would be with both barrels. After three of the cannon balls were sent flying with the remains of their springs bouncing behind them, Ron had devoted the rest of the day on toning down the intensity. Eventually, the elves were able to hit the balls lightly enough to just get them to deflect about a foot. Harry determined with the help of a few stunners of his own at the balls that this would be a moderate stun level. It would do. At least they would have some prisoners. He thought to himself that if the Death Eaters could see the elves hitting the iron cannon balls with the thick steel springs and knocking them off their posts, they might have second thoughts about tangling with this group. Voldemort himself had enough experience with just one to not want to see another.

At eleven o'clock, they broke for the day with the understanding that their assumption was correct and that the times most suitable for the elves were anytime more than an hour before or after a scheduled meal. This meant that this morning's session from ten to eleven just fit in between breakfast and lunch but the afternoon would be good from one until five. Slider and the rest went to help with lunch while Harry and Ron went back to the Fortress.

"Well?" asked Harry, after they sat down. "What do you think?"

Ron gave a sort of half grin and said, "I don't think I want to have any live exercises until I'm sure they won't give a full power stunner when they get excited. I have this vision of my head bouncing down the hill and it disturbs me."

"I'm with you there, mate," agreed Harry. "They also need to work on accuracy. With the kind of situations they are used to, close counted. We want a lighter and more accurate touch. In a pinch, though, I'd be glad they were with us."

"Me, too," said Ron. "So we're training with elves and checking out some of Voldemort's favorite tourist sites. What else is on the agenda?" He looked into the elf control center and didn't see anything that looked like unusual activity.

"Well, I want Hermione to check on as many elf laws as she can before we talk to the Minister," said Harry. "I think that we, and by we, I mean you, should be thinking about what Voldemort will be doing next."

"I have been thinking about that," said Ron. "If I were Voldemort, I would be examining my last few stunning defeats. He already knows about your apparating and being a dragon. He is probably starting to suspect that we can track the Death Eaters. Hermione and the Burrow would tend to have him look at it as a possibility but the train was a giveaway. You reacted way too fast. Also, Shacklebolt has been more effective than normal since we gave him those maps and the demonstration at the Ministry would also be a tip-off. He knows that Nott was captured immediately. I doubt that any new recruits will have the marks. What he plans to do to the old team, I don't want to guess at."

"I don't know if he will completely abandon the dark mark," said Harry. "It is a form of control, as well as a form of identification. Maybe he'll come up with another way to mark his men."

"That's very likely, I'm afraid," agreed Ron. "He will also be looking to get new allies and recover old ones. When you talk to the Minister, you might want to mention the likelihood of an attack on Azkaban. Maybe we should get a map for there, too." He made a note for himself on a piece of parchment.

"Azkaban," repeated Harry. "That brings up another mystery. Not that I miss them, but why hasn't he used the dementors? They left Azkaban over a year ago. Why aren't they more active?"

"I asked Dad about that over the summer," replied Ron. "No one seems to know. They were breeding for a while a year ago last summer, but besides the bad feeling when they are near, there haven't been many attacks."

"I'm not complaining," said Harry. "About all I can do against them is chase them away."

"Better than nothing," said Ron, who would have trouble with dealing with one dementor.

"Let's see," said Harry. "There was a giant attack a while ago but not too much since then. He had quite a few trolls at Hogsmead. What else does he have?"

"Inferi, vampires and who knows what else," said Ron. "So why have we only seen wizards, lately?"

"I don't know. We need someone from his inner circle," said Harry. "Snape or even Wormtail, I suppose. I should have grabbed him when I had the chance." Their last adventure had been such a debacle that Harry wished he had never noticed Halsfer in the window.

"I don't see Snapes name on the daily reports very often," said Ron. "I think Wormtail would be a possibility, though." He got up and went to the map room door. "Martha? Can we have a second?" He waited by the door.

"Sure, Ron," replied Martha. She got up from the table where she was working on the morning report and walked into the main office.

"Hi, Harry," she said, smiling at Harry.

"Hi, Martha," replied Harry. "We were wondering if you've seen Severus Snape or Peter Pettigrew come up on the maps lately."

"Snape has only been in range once or twice, as far as I remember," she said. "Pettigrew hits the occasional Knockturn Alley bar once in a while. Maybe once every week or so."

"Please put them both on the urgent list," said Ron. "We want to know immediately when one of them shows up." He looked at Harry. "Any other names we know about?'

"Anyone named Lestrange," said Harry, thinking. "Grampa," he called into the empty portrait. After a few seconds, Grampa came into the frame.

"Yes, Harry," he said. "What can I do for you?" He was stretching as if he woke from a nap.

"Those Death Eaters that you said were related," Harry said, incompletely. "Up on the astronomy tower. What were their names?"

Grampa had to gather his thoughts and then said, "I believe you are referring to Amycus and Alecto Carrow. A most unsavory pair of siblings, I might add."

"That's the ones," said Harry. Turning back to Martha, he said, "Put them on the list, too. If any of them show up anywhere, we want to know right away. Make sure the late shift elves know that as well, please."

Martha finished writing down the names and went back to inform her crew.

"May I ask why you needed that information, Harry?" asked Grampa. He was starting to wake up and seemed to be interested.

"We want some questions answered and the low level idiots we have don't have any answers," said Harry. "We need someone who talks to Voldemort on a regular basis. Snape or Wormtail would be the best but these others might know something, too."

"Perhaps I might have an idea or two on the questions you want answered," suggested Grampa.

"Sure," said Harry. "Basically, why hasn't Voldemort been using his other allies? A few months of bad feelings from the dementors, one giant attack and trolls used only the once at Hogsmead. Where are the vampires and inferi? Why stop using the giants and trolls. Why is he sticking with his weakest and least successful people?"

"Not to mention all these places he keeps sending everyone," said Ron. "We don't have a clue on why he's doing what he's doing and why he's not doing what we think any idiot would have done."

Grampa thought for a moment and came to a conclusion. "I think I see how to resolve this problem, Harry," he said.

"And that would be...," prompted Harry.

"I think you need a high level Death Eater," he said. He ran out of his portrait, laughing before Harry's wadded up piece of parchment hit it.

"Sometimes I think he's losing his mind," said Ron.

"Sometimes?" asked Harry.

"Sometimes I think and sometimes I'm sure," said Ron with a smirk. "I guess we already had the answer, though. Now we wait."

"No," said Harry, "Now we get a hold of Tonks and we all learn Occlumency. I don't want to have the same problem as last time when I meet Snape or any of the other top shelf Death Eaters." Tonks and Lupin had returned to Grimmauld Place for a while to catch up with the activities of the Order of the Phoenix. They were planning on coming back for the weekend, but Harry wanted to spend some of their down time working on protecting their minds from probing and attack.

"It's almost lunch time," noted Ron. "Are you going to go now or wait until after class?" Coldiron's classes were good training and generally enjoyable.

"I wasn't planning on going at all," said Harry. "Winky."

"Yes, Master," said Winky, after a short delay.

"Please inform Tonks that the three of us would like to start occlumency lessons tomorrow afternoon, around four o'clock and ask her to return here at that time," said Harry.

"Yes, Master," replied Winky and she left them alone, again.

"I wish I had an elf," said Ron, as he and Harry both left for lunch.

Author's note: Sorry about the time between chapters. Also, this one is more involved in preparing them for the next phase than anything else, but we want them prepared, right? Thanks for reading.

Dad


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39 - On the Road Again

September 25th, 1997

Harry looked at his watch. A quarter to seven. It hadn't changed much since the last time he checked but it had seemed to speed up. He and Hermione had agreed to meet with Mr. Harvey Huntlinger to discuss the purchase of Slinky. The time of five-thirty hadn't seemed like it would be a problem. How long could it take? Apparently, at least an hour and fifteen minutes. That was due mostly to Mr. Huntlinger's insistence that they discuss the arrangements over dinner. Even that wasn't initially perceived to be a problem. Winky had accompanied them and was helping her sister in the kitchen. Assuming that they didn't have the opportunity to spend a lot of time together, Harry and Hermione both agreed to stay. Mr. Huntlinger was, to put it mildly, delighted.

"Oh, I just can't wait to tell all of my friends that Harry Potter had dinner with me," he gushed. Then, remembering his manners, said, "and his lovely wife as well, of course. I just can't believe it. But you must get that all the time, Harry. May I call you Harry? I don't mean to presume. I just thought that since you were buying the daughter of my house elf and she's the niece of your house elf, well, it's almost as if we're related, isn't it."

Harry nodded, not really listening. Ten to seven. He had to act. "Excuse me, Harvey," he said when he could get a word in. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Oh, of course," said a delighted Harvey. Harry wondered for a moment if he would put a red velvet rope across the toilet after they left. Harry went as quickly as he could to the designated privy. He pulled on his invisibility cloak and apparated immediately to Madam Pomfrey's office.

"It might take a moment for me to summon the power," said Poppy, obviously stalling for time. The woman sitting in front of her with a peg leg next to her on the floor was apparently starting to wonder if the stories were all some sort of a vicious prank.

Harry quickly entered the room and started to create a leg. The relief on Poppy's face was perhaps a little too evident.

"Is there something wrong?" asked the witch. She was half watching the leg take shape and half watching Poppy.

"Oh, no," said Poppy. "It just take a lot out of me. That's why I can only do one per day. There. How does that feel?" The woman got up and walked around a bit. As usual, it took a little time to get used to a real leg but it seemed to fit. Harry ran back to the office and apparated back to the bathroom.

Whipping off the cloak, he rushed back to the dining room. With a sudden realization, and with the simultaneous recognition of the irony, he had to say, "I'm sorry, Harvey. I forgot to go. Be right back."

By the time they finally returned to their rooms at nine-thirty, Harry was ready to hit the shower and then go straight to bed. There was something about overly exuberant people that tended to tire out those around them.

"Slinky," said Harry to the youngest elf that had accompanied them back, "Hermione and I live at Number 14 Grimmauld Place. There is a fidelius charm on the house. I am the secret keeper. This means that if you find you have to hire new suppliers, they will have to be told where to deliver their items by me. Winky can fill you in on the details. You are officially owned by us so I don't think there will be a problem accessing the house funds at Gringott's but if there is, be sure to let me know."

"Winky," he said, turning to the elder elf, "please take Slinky to the house. She can also choose to have her own room if she wants. I would also like for you to show her the Fortress of Solitude tomorrow morning when you have time. I think she should be able to come there if necessary."

"Winky is teaching Slinky everything she is needing to know about being Master and Mistress' house elf," said Winky. She looked like she was going to enjoy having a young elf to look out for.

"That's great," said Harry. Then, turning back once more to Slinky, he said, "Slinky. There is one more thing that is very important. I want you to always know that if you wish to be freed, you only have to ask. Winky is only our slave because she wanted it so much. I will never force you to be my slave. Do you understand?"

"Slinky is knowing what Master is saying," she said, "but Slinky isn't knowing why Master is mad at Slinky. Slinky will be a good elf and will never be deserving clothes." She seemed to be quite upset at apparently starting off on the wrong foot.

"I won't free you for a punishment, Slinky," said Harry, quickly. "I only meant that if you ever wished to be free, I would free you. It will be up to you." He then added, "I happen to know that being free doesn't make you a bad elf because the greatest elf I ever knew was free and he served me very well."

Winky smiled broadly at the complement to her husband and said, "We is going to Master's house now, Master." She took Slinky's hand and the two of them popped away.

Hermione and Harry started to get ready for their shower. "I still think she looks pretty young to handle a house the size of Grimmauld Place," said Hermione. She hadn't engaged very much in the discussion of the terms for buying Slinky. The only condition she asked for, and received, was permission for Slinky and Dinky to visit each other whenever they wanted. Harvey Huntlinger was basically a kind soul at heart so he agreed without a fuss.

"She has Winky to help when necessary," said Harry. "She'll be alright." His only concern was whether or not the quality of cooking at Grimmauld Place, something that had taken on legendary status since Winky took over, would suffer. He decided that they would visit this weekend.

After their shower, they took time to discuss the other interesting experience of the day; their first occlumency lesson with Tonks.

"I'm not sure I like occlumency," said Hermione. She was used to always having her thoughts prepared and organized before sharing them with others. To have someone, even Tonks, stroll around in her mind and see disjointed glimpses of just about anything she wanted was, to say the least, unsettling.

"You should have had a few dozen rounds with Snape," said Harry. "Believe me, Tonks is a piece of cake compared to him." After just a few minutes with Tonks, Harry was more sure than ever that Snape was just softening him up for Voldemort. Where Snape had violently attacked his mind, Tonks was subtly looking round. It was such a difference that more than once Harry found himself enjoying the sensation instead of resisting it. On the bright side, when he did try to resist, he shut her out much easier than he had ever done with Snape.

"You weren't a piece of cake to Tonks, though," she responded. Tonks had complained that Harry had, with just a few attempts, managed to shut her out so forcefully that it gave her a headache. Harry was at a loss to explain how this could be since he only succeeded in resisting Snape a handful of times.

"I think that was mostly luck," he concluded. "I really wanted to do that to Snape and I was lousy at it. With Tonks, it wasn't really that important to me one way or the other and she ended up on her bum half the time."

"We'll see how lucky you are with tomorrow's session," said Hermione. "I bet Mad-eye reads you like a scroll." She sounded a little too pleased with the prospect. It was a rare lesson that Hermione didn't come out of in first place. Tonks decided that Harry was either a lot better at occlumency that he thought or that she was slipping. She decided to have the next lesson at Grimmauld Place so that Mad-eye could put Harry though his paces.

Harry wasn't looking forward to that particular exercise. Of course he would have it easy next to the Death Eaters. It had been three days now since he had planted Nott's body with the allusions to a secret icy hideout. Voldemort's researcher's would have been able to find out something about the Fortress of Solitude that Minerva had mentioned to him. Harry and his team had found out that, unlike the south pole, the ice at the north pole was only a few yards thick. This was both good and bad news, Harry thought. It would not have the characteristic of the mile deep mine they had been using in Wales, which seemed to block out or at least reduce the ability of the arms to be traced. Instead, their proximity to the surface would make them stand out better to someone searching for them. After consulting with the elves on what was possible and safe for them to construct, they had built a waterproof room that was attached to the bottom of the ice pack exactly one hundred and thirty miles south of the north pole along the Prime Meridian. This was approximately eighteen hundred miles away from Hogwarts and five hundred miles away from any sort of town or settlement where the Death Eaters could take shelter. Naturally, it was elf warded against apparition and they had it ringed with detectors. To enter the room with the arms, the Death Eaters would have to then dig through thirty feet of pack ice and break into the room itself. By this time, of course, Harry and his elves would have arrived and captured them all. Also by this time, he suspected, those that weren't frozen to the ice would crawl up and kiss his feet for saving them. It was this pleasant thought that was on his mind as he finally fell asleep.

September 26th, 1997

Forty minutes into potions and Harry thought that the Death Eaters didn't have it so bad after all. Professor Triffle had been talking about their latest potion, the draft of senility, for nearly all that time and Harry thought he had some of the symptoms. Lack of concentration; yes. Decline in verbal skills; uh huh. Poor perception of the passage of time; was that today? Distorted priorities; he looked over at Ron. He was writing a note to Snape, begging him to come back and teach potions. Hallucinations; he was sure he saw Hermione, enraptured by every word Triffle said. Memory loss; well he sure didn't remember drinking any of the potion.

The day started to pick up when the three of them went down to their office. Hermione had a rare free hour and decided to accompany them instead of visiting the library. Martha came to join them when she noticed their presence.

"Good morning, everybody," she said, taking one of the spare chairs. "You can't be done already?" It was only ten o'clock.

"Morning, Martha," said Hermione. "No, just a free hour." She set her bookcase on the table and looked through the glass door to the elves. "Anything interesting happening lately?"

"That's why I'm here," responded Martha. "Souter Lighthouse was visited last night as well as Stonehenge. You were waiting for both of them, if I remember correctly." They had informed her on which sites were expected to be visited next and asked her to watch for them.

"That's great," said Harry. "Do you have the details for us yet?" All visits were recorded in detail so that any information that could be gleaned from just observing the maps would be available.

"Right here," she said, smiling. She handed over two parchments. Each was fairly short. Apparently, the Death Eaters weren't too active.

"Thanks, Martha," said Harry. He looked at the parchments. In each case, two Death Eaters apparated to the designated site and strolled around for about a half hour. Being nighttime, there was no one else nearby, either wizard or muggle. They then left.

"They don't seem to do much," said Harry, passing the notes to Ron. Another thought occurred to him. "If they apparate in, where do they apparate from or to?" He had never thought of that before.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him thoughtfully but didn't answer. Martha, on the other hand, did.

"I can't tell you where they originally start," she said, "but we see them passing through some of the other sites quite often. They usually just stay for a second. All we really see is a red name before it's gone. Never long enough to read it. I just assumed they used the known sites for intermediate apparation points."

Harry thought about that and it sounded reasonable. Most wizards could only apparate about one hundred miles or so. Why wouldn't they use some of the places they visited often to make their way to their assigned locations?

"You say they only stay a moment?" asked Ron. He had new interest in the subject. "How many times would you say a particular location gets hit per day?"

"That varies all over the place," replied Martha. "Sometimes several times, sometimes not at all." She looked concerned that she hadn't mentioned what she considered common knowledge.

"It's the elves that have been watching," said Hermione. "Do the same elves have the same maps when they are on duty?"

"Usually," said Martha. "Sometimes a different elf will show up for whatever reason but it is usually the same crew."

"Could they each give us an estimate for the average number of these quick stops for each site?" she asked.

"I can ask them," said Martha. "I can also have them keep track of the times they notice them. I'm afraid it happens just too fast to get names, though."

"Thanks, Martha," said Harry. "Try to have that information and the observed numbers ready for us by Monday afternoon, please. I don't know if it is important but it might help us figure out what they are doing."

"No problem, Harry," she replied. "I'm sorry I didn't mention this before. I just thought that it was normal behavior and we didn't have any names anyway."

"It's probably nothing," said Hermione. "I suspect you're right and they were just using the known points to get from here to there."

"Any hits on the icebox?" asked Ron. That was his colorful codename for the new arm storage chamber.

"Not yet," said Martha. "I do have it listed as a priority site for notification, you know. You'll be told as soon as anyone shows up."

"Just checking," said Ron. He hadn't wanted to imply Martha wasn't doing her job. He, like Harry, was looking forward to the arrival of the Death Eaters in the arctic. "That reminds me, Harry. Did you hear back from Scrimgeour yet?"

"Not yet," said Harry. "I just sent the letter yesterday, though." They had requested a meeting with the Minister of Magic. Hermione had researched the elf laws and the way wizards interpreted them and the way elves interpreted them and had written a few variations that would achieve their goals without arousing suspicions.

"Let's hope we have what we want before the Death Eaters freeze to death," said Ron, smiling. "I don't know if even you can apparate that far with a passenger."

"I don't either," said Harry. "I'm not eager to try, unless I'm sure." Harry was confident in his ability but eighteen hundred miles was a long way. It might be better to leave that to the elves.

"I take it you'll be hitting those two places this weekend?" asked Martha.

"Yes," said Hermione. "We wanted to check in at our house in London anyway. Winky's niece is taking over for her there and Winky will be taking over for Dobby here." Somehow, Winky replacing Dobby wasn't so bad since it would all be in the family.

"If you're going to London," said Martha, "you might want to do Parliament. That was checked last night, too."

"Do we have that researched, yet?" asked Harry, looking at his wife.

"As much as I plan to," she replied. "There is a lot of history there and I just have the overview. If we find anything, I can do more." It irritated her to be less than totally prepared but some of the places they were intending to visit were just too much for even her to be able to know everything about.

"Sure, why not?" asked Harry. "So far we are only checking the locations that we currently know about. I've finished the cells so we can start getting more prisoners anytime we want." Harry had finally gotten around to using the dimensional adjustment spell that he learned from Grampa to have the outsides of the cells all be about three feet wide with the insides being whatever he wanted. He only had to designate some empty space somewhere that could make up the difference. That abandoned coal mine they had found had turned out to be a gold mine for their uses.

"That reminds me," said Hermione. "I think I might have found the counterspell for the Death Eaters. It should allow them to think more clearly when we make our offers."

"That't great," exclaimed Harry. "Maybe we can get a little more out of them now than just answering our questions. If they actually helped a little, who knows what we could find out?"

"Great," said Martha. "More info to put in those bloody maps."

"Job security," said Ron. "Look at it this way. When we finally finish Voldemort, we'll all be out of work." He laughed.

"You have a point there, Ron," said Martha. "This isn't exactly going to be helpful on my resume."

"You just have to word it right," said Harry. "You are in a management position for an important project. You should be able to make that sound pretty impressive."

"Before we all start worrying about out pensions," said Hermione, "we should remember that Voldemort isn't dead yet and we aren't very close to making him that way."

"Thank you, Mary Sunshine," said Harry. Ron and Martha both laughed at this. Eventually, Hermione smiled, too.

"Let's see what we can do about that," said Hermione. "Who should we try out that counterspell on?"

"Let's do what's-his-name in cell 27," said Harry. "He seemed to be easy to get on our side."

"I would imagine you'd be easy too if you couldn't breath or are were falling from ten thousand feet," said Ron.

"The falling thing wouldn't bother me," said Harry, "but I can fly. It had a good effect on our friend, though."

"Why do I have this vision of us killing Voldemort and then spending twenty years in Azkaban for how we did it?" asked Hermione.

"I'm sure some people will complain," said Harry. "They'll say we shouldn't have done this or that and the Death Eaters have rights and all sorts of rubbish. Personally, if treating them too nicely caused one innocent death, it wouldn't be worth it. I'll take my chances in court."

"I don't think there's a jury in the world that wouldn't acquit you, anyway," said Martha.

"Thanks, Martha," said Harry. "I'm glad you feel that way."

"I don't know what way you are thinking," said Martha. "I just think they'd be afraid you'd incinerate them if they convicted you."

Harry, Hermione and Ron walked out to cell 27. They still wanted a few of the nice cells to look like nice cells from the outside as encouragement to the others. Although it was true that any cell could be made quite comfortable now that Harry had the enlargement charm figured out, nothing was as convincing as a readily available example.

Jordy Krillian watched them approach. It had taken Harry a little longer than promised to give Jordy his promised new arm. He had to calm down after visiting the Death Eater's hideout and finding the bodies of the previous occupants. Jordy's was the last of the old version limbs. Since Harry had joined with Fawkes, the replacements were virtually indistinguishable from the original.

"Jordy," said Harry, attempting to sound friendly and reasonable, "We'd like to talk with you for a few minutes. May we come in?" Besides the necessary incentives he had used to extract what information he could after McGonagall's capture, he had treated Krillian well and wanted to see how well Hermione's counterspell would work.

Jordy rose from his seat and signaled that they could join him. Harry apparated Ron and Hermione in with him and they all sat at Jordy's table.

"We haven't had too much time to chat, Jordy," said Harry. "If you've read the papers, you'll know that we were able to rescue Headmistress McGonagall and she has fully recovered. What wasn't in the papers was the fact that four of your friends who came on the raid are dead. Four others, besides yourself are now our prisoners. Bellatrix Lestrange, as you have also no doubt read, is dead. Your master was saved from a house elf only by her sacrifice. I went back to where they were. He didn't even bother to collect her body and she was one of his favorites. How do you feel about Voldemort, now?" He sat back to watch the response.

"Don't speak the name of my master," spat Krillian, jumping to his feet. Ron and Hermione had their wands on him in an instant but Harry just observed. "He will crush you all and then remove us from our captivity. I shall be rewarded for my loyalty." Clearly, he was still under the spell.

"Hermione," asked Harry, "could you please restore Mr. Krillian's perspective?" He hadn't moved but continued to watch Krillian.

Hermione already had her wand out so the suddenness of her response was a bit surprising. "Destorum Obligatus Semprous," she said. A flash of blue light struck Jordy and he collapsed to the floor.

This was apparently not the response that Hermione was looking for. Jumping to her feet, she rushed around and checked on Jordy's condition. He was conscious but not quite fully responsive.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione, a silly question in retrospect to a man she had just knocked to the floor with a spell.

"Dizzy," said Krillian, now closing his eyes and holding his head in his hands. His head was precessing about his neck as his bearings slowly recovered from gimbal lock.

"Don't worry," said Hermione. "That will pass in a few seconds." She looked to Harry and Ron with a clear "I hope" look in her eyes.

Jordy tried to get to his feet. Success was at a price. He stumbled to his bathroom and they heard him retching into the toilet. After about two minutes, he came back out, ashen faced and weak-kneed. "What did you do to me?" he asked, still clutching his head. He dropped onto his bed.

"Your master placed a spell on you that required unreasonable loyalty," explained Harry. "We hope that this will remove it's effects so that you can make better choices for yourself in the future."

Jordy slowly opened his eyes. He tentatively tried to sit up. After sitting for a few seconds longer, he rose and walked back to the table and sat in his vacated chair. "It's passing," he said. After a few moments he added, "I've never felt so sick in my life. You might want to check on how you're casting that spell."

"I intend to," said Hermione, chastened. "I'm sorry, Jordy. I didn't know it would have that result. How are you feeling now?" She was quite concerned and looked it.

"Better," he said, finally. "It's almost gone, now." He looked back at Harry and asked, "Why did you say you did that?"

"It was to make you think clearly, ironically," said Harry, smirking at his wife. "Voldemort put the spell on you when you joined. It makes you think he is infallible or something. A sort of loyalty spell."

Jordy thought about this for a moment. Harry noticed that he ignored the uttering of the name of the Dark Lord this time. "So what does that mean?" he asked.

Harry said, "Let me show you. I will repeat a question and we'll see how you react, this time. Your kidnaping of McGonagall has failed and failed badly. Of the ten of you who came to get her, nine remain. Four are dead and five, including you are captured. Bellatrix Lestrange is dead. McGonagall has been rescued from under his very nose and restored. You are in my hidden headquarters, surrounded by other captured Death Eaters and their guards. Do you think that Voldemort will be trying to get you back?"

Jordy sat silently, staring at them. After a while, he said, "That must have been some spell. I believed, I mean I was absolutely sure that he would come and reward me." He went back to his blank stare.

"You seem to remember everything, Jordy," said Ron. "When Harry took away your air and had you dropping like a rock, you weren't under the spell. Can you remember how that felt?"

Jordy thought about the question. "I can't say it felt any different. When we were falling and definitely when I ran out of air, I only wanted to do as you asked. It seemed to be the logical path to follow. Later, after I was safe for awhile, I wanted to please the Dark Lord. It felt logical as well, since he was going to come and save us."

"And now you understand your circumstances better?" asked Hermione.

"I believe so," said Krillian. "I am in a cell, apparently underground, and am unlikely to be rescued by anyone. I've tried to apparate and can't. Here I am and here I'll stay." He looked resigned.

"All of that is true, Jordy," said Harry. "You can, however, improve your conditions. You are already in the nicest cell we have but it can be enlarged and a few amenities can be added. We also have a recreational area for exercise and if other Death Eaters start to behave, small groups of you can get together for company."

"I see," said Jordy. "I take it there is a price for such benevolence?"

"A small one," replied Harry. "Just answer a few questions more fully than before. Use your knowledge and tell us something we didn't ask for. Help us and we will help you."

"What is it you want to know?" asked Jordy. Clearly, there was a reason that Voldemort used his loyalty spell.

"It's hard to say," said Harry. "We can't really tell you exactly what we are looking for but you need some information to be able to give us something useful." He thought for a moment. "I suppose we could start with why in the world are Death Eaters going all over the country checking and rechecking the same places?"

"That's no secret," said Jordy. "We do it because we have been ordered to do so."

"I think the information we are interested in is why you were ordered to do this," said Ron. "As far as we have been able to gather, you go to all these different places with different people and never do anything when you get there."

"That is mostly true," said Jordy. "We did have orders to observe the area and report anything unusual."

"And did anything unusual ever happen in one of your areas?" asked Ron.

"Not particularly," replied Jordy. "I had a few patrols where a building was being painted or a group of muggles was present when not expected. I don't know if anything was done with this information, though. It has been a while since I participated in one of those types of assignments. I did nothing else for the first few weeks. At first, I went with more senior Death Eaters and then I took new recruits myself. Eventually, I was assigned to Snape and I haven't gone on a sightseeing tour since."

Harry thought about this. Was this just some sort of training exercise that they were tracking? And if it was, what was the point? "Was your case the norm?" he asked. "I mean, do all new Death Eaters go to all of these different places as soon as they join?"

"As far as I know," replied Jordy. "I think I might have visited most places about three times or so and then I was never sent to any of them again."

"And you have no idea why?" asked Hermione. "Did you ever talk with anyone who questioned these orders or gave any theories on their purpose?"

"It never once occurred to me that there was anything strange about our assignment," said Jordy. "In hindsight, I can only conclude that it was because of that spell you removed. Like everything else the Dark Lord said or asked, it made perfect sense."

Harry stood up. He had enough for today. "Jordy, you have been as cooperative as can be expected, so far. I will now fulfill my promise. What improvement would you like to your conditions?"

Jordy thought for a moment. "I suppose release is out of the question?" he asked. Harry shook his head. "In that case, you mentioned a place to exercise. Could I get some time there?"

"That's reasonable," said Harry. "It's almost eleven o'clock. I'll leave word with Martha to have an elf take you there after lunch. So far you have earned an hour a day. Let me leave you with a little to think about. We want to know where Voldemort has been. If you think of any places you know of or have heard of, write them down. Your conditions may improve some more."

"I won't commit anything to paper," said Jordy. "I don't see you winning in the long run and I don't want any evidence of my betrayal left behind. I will think on it, however."

"Fair enough," said Harry. He didn't think that Jordy, or any Death Eater, would want to be too open in their cooperation. They had mostly joined for their own personal gain, not because of any great ideological calling, after all. Then another thought occurred to him. He was going to practice on Dougal but Jordy was already at hand, pun intended.

"Jordy," he began, "this is a freebie but I wanted to try something. Please uncover your left arm."

Jordy looked confused. So did Ron and Hermione, for that matter. "What are you going to do?" asked Jordy, slowly rolling back his robes.

"I have improved in my ability to restore limbs," said Harry. "I just wanted to see if I can fix the ones that I have already put in place."

Jordy held out his monolithic brown arm and waited. Harry looked at it and waved his wand, envisioning his desired goal. The arm briefly turned silver, it's normal state, and then shifted into a much more realistic form that would match the other side.

Harry lowered his wand as Jordy flexed his arm. "That's much better looking," he said, lowering the robes again. "Thanks."

"Thanks for being a lab rat," said Harry, smiling. "I only did a few other limbs the old way but one was a young boy and another was a recent bride. I wouldn't want them to have such an obviously false limb for the rest of their lives if I could help it."

Jordy said nothing and Harry and the others apparated back to their office. Hermione left for her eleven o'clock class and Harry and Ron stayed in the Fortress.

Ron went into the map room to view the display map of Great Britain. He was watching them in different ways, now. One at a time, he was seeing how a Death Eater started, like Jordy, to visit one different place a day. He would normally do this for two or three full cycles and then his trips would rapidly taper off to none. Ron tried to see the point. So far, he had no luck.

Harry stayed in the office. He had set the horcrux on the table and was walking around the room, experiencing it's trace from different angles. He walked out of the office and slowly backed away. He could distinctly sense it until the usual twelve or thirteen yards. After that, it started to fade. He noticed that it's presence did not drop off as quickly as a person's. It was just a slow dimming of his awareness of it. If he concentrated, he found he could still pick it out at the snake door. He didn't see where this would be that helpful. The difficulty in detecting it at such a long distance meant that it would probably be easier to do as he did before; just walk the grounds.

Putting the horcrux back in their safe, he joined Ron and Martha in the map room. "Martha," he began, "do we have a list of the names of all the Death Eaters you have recorded?" He wondered why they hadn't brought this up before. A simple directory would have at least some use.

"As a matter of fact we do," replied Martha. "It was sort of a necessity on our part. We had to make sure we tied the same Death Eater to his past travels or Ron couldn't watch just one at a time like he is now."

Harry briefly looked at Ron and the map and then asked, "May I see it, please?" He didn't want to disrupt their work but he wanted some information.

Martha walked over to one of the elves by Ron and spoke to him. He nodded and produced a book that surprised Harry because it looked bound. Martha took it from the elf and brought it over to Harry. "It's just an address book. I thought it would work because it's already divided alphabetically. We put in their names along with the earliest and latest times we have either observed them ourselves or they were identified by one of the prisoners. It been a big help in keeping things straight, with so many names to keep track of."

Harry said, "That's a great idea, Martha. Do you have a rough guess of how many Death Eaters you have listed?" This was the information he really wanted.

"I haven't counted since Monday but we had four hundred and thirty-some that weren't already captured or dead. I would say we picked up about a dozen or so new names this week."

"I see," said Harry. "So we have done some damage but he recovers fairly quickly. I'd like to take a few more out of circulation but we are finding out their names, at least, and from what I just found out from Krillian, the ones we can see on the maps are fairly new. The older names don't show up much except on Knockturn Alley." He then had a thought and added, "That reminds me; ask an elf to take Krillian to the exercise area for an hour per day. He's expecting one after lunch but after that, you can decide the best time. He was a good boy and gave us some more info."

"Sure, Harry," said Martha, writing herself a note. "I was wondering why you made that place since no one ever used it."

"Now that we have the loyalty spell figured out, it might be a little more crowded," replied Harry. "I wouldn't say Krillian was turning good like Dougal, but at least he could see where his future lay and who he had to please. Real loyalty is probably pretty rare with all but the top shelf Death Eaters."

"I suppose so," said Martha. An elf came up to her and quietly asked a question. "Excuse me," she said, "I have to get back to work."

Harry watched Martha work with the elf for a bit and then went over to join Ron. "What are you trying to find?" he asked, as Ron kept changing the names and moving through their period of recorded activity.

"I'm not sure," replied Ron. "It seems that we're missing an obvious reason for why they are doing all this running around. I'm hoping I can see some sort of a pattern or something." He went back to his reviews.

"Well, it's almost lunch time," said Harry. "Let's find Hermione and Honey and get something to eat."

They left the Fortress and went to the Head's Suite to wait for Hermione. Harry set out his books for their afternoon class while Ron fidgeted in his chair. Finally, Harry had his curiosity raised to a sufficient level.

"What's up, Ron?" he asked.

"What makes you think something's up," he replied, defensively.

"Besides six years practice reading you like a book, and the fact that you are squirming in your chair like you're covered in ants, nothing at all," said Harry.

Ron blushed but seemed relieved. "Well, I suppose I have to bring it up anyway," he said. "You know how we wanted to hit Souter Lighthouse this weekend?"

Harry said, "Yes, along with Parliament and Stonehenge."

"Right," continued Ron. "Well, Hermione has been to Stonehenge and we've all been near enough to Parliament but Souter Lighthouse is way up by Newcastle."

"Yes, I know," said Harry. "Remus and Tonks were going to get us up there, if you'll recall."

"Right," said Ron again. "Well, I was mentioning this to Honey and she said that her parents live near a town called Esh. It's near Newcastle and I was wondering if maybe, ah, we could, well..." He trailed off.

"Say, Ron?" asked Harry, "do you think that Honey would like to come with us? You could meet her parents and maybe spend some unsupervised time with her. What do you say? Please?"

"Thanks, Harry," said Ron, as his blush was offset brilliantly by a big, toothy smile.

"This will give you incentive to work on your occlumency," said Harry, smiling evilly.

"Why is that?" asked Ron, concerned.

"Because Mad-eye isn't exactly subtle," replied Harry. "You'd better be able to block your thoughts about your plans for the weekend or he'll know all about them, and most likely kid Honey about them."

"You don't think he'd tell her something like that, do you?" asked Ron in disbelief.

"Like what?" asked Harry, smiling. "I don't think I mentioned anything in particular about your plans. What are they, exactly?"

Ron turned away and said no more but Harry could feel that he was smiling.

The five of them arrived at Grimmauld place at five o'clock. Winky had accompanied them to see how Slinky was doing. Mad-eye, Remus and Tonks were all waiting for them. Honey had a small overnight bag since she, unlike the others, didn't have a supply of clothing there. Winky disappeared immediately.

"Good evening, everyone," said Remus. The social protocol was a bit uncertain with their group. Technically, it was Harry and Hermione's house but they spent most of their time at school these days. Mad-eye was the eldest fairly consistent resident of the manor but he wasn't all that sociable so it fell to Remus to act as host when company came.

"Hi, Remus," said Harry for the group. "You remember Honey Sweetwater, of course."

"Hello again, Honey," replied Lupin, noting her presence and luggage. "I see you and Ron have decided to continue your collaboration." Remus had, like everyone else present at the party at the Three Broomsticks, noticed just how well the young couple had gotten along.

"I suppose we have," she said, smiling. "It's strange, isn't it? We just met three weeks ago and now we're traveling around the country like a regular couple. It's like we've always been together."

"It's not that strange," said Tonks. "I felt the same way when we started to date. Of course that might have just been puppy love." She started laughing.

Remus rolled his eyes. "She just can't resist that joke," he explained.

Honey looked thoughtful. "I'm afraid I don't get it," she said after a few seconds.

"Oh," said Harry. "We might not have mentioned it before but Remus is a werewolf. Tonks likes to joke about it, perhaps a bit too much."

"Perhaps," said Tonks. "It must not bother him, though," she said. "He's signed up for the duration," she continued, holding up her engagement ring.

"A sense of humor is important," agreed Honey. "Ron knows how to make me laugh and I love him for it." She smiled up at Ron who took the opportunity for a quick kiss.

"Potter," said Mad-eye, gruffly. "Let's get on with this lesson that Tonks wants me to teach you." He stumped over to a small table with a pair of chairs. He sat on one side and indicated the other to Harry.

"This is Mad-eye Moody, Honey," said Harry. "Mad-eye, this is Honey Sweetwater, the new transfiguration professor and Ron's girlfriend."

Honey walked up and said, "Pleased to meet you, ah, Mad-eye?" Although appropriate, the name didn't sound like his mother gave it to him.

"Alastor, actually," said Mad-eye. "Everyone calls me Mad-eye, though. No idea why." He looked at her deadpan, the blue orb swirling in it's socket.

Honey stared at him, completely at a loss for a response. Harry took pity on her and said, "Well, let's get started." He sat in the chair opposite Mad-eye and allowed Honey to escape.

"Alright, Potter," said Mad-eye. "Tonks tells me that you don't so much shut her out of your mind as throw her out. I'm not a little girl so let's see what you've got." He immediately drew his wand and said, "Legilimens."

Harry wasn't quite prepared for the immediacy of the attack but managed to stop Mad-eye at the gate. In fact, that was almost how he perceived the conflict now. He envisioned himself standing on the stoop of the house of his mind. The door was shut and only he could allow anyone entrance. Mad-eye stood before him asking for entry. Harry decided to try something that he had felt able to do to Tonks. With her, he declined since he was unsure of what might happen. Mad-eye was experienced enough to take care of himself, though.

"Good evening, Alastor," he said in his mind. "I'm afraid my doors are locked."

"Locked for now, Potter," said the spectral Moody. "I have the key, though." He walked to the door and reached for the knob. It didn't open. He tried pounding on the door with his fist. Again, no results. Finally, he thrust the iron tipped end of his oak leg at the door. It shuddered but held fast.

"Let's try your place, Alastor," said Harry, putting his had on Mad-eye's shoulder. Instantly, they were both standing in front of an older, but once sturdy, house that had it's windows all boarded up. The door had cracks and dents but had not been broken.

"It doesn't look like you want company, Alastor," said Harry. He walked up to the door.

"My mind is my business," said Mad-eye. "No one has ever gotten in."

"That is the last time you will be able to say that, Alastor," said Harry. With that, he walked through the doorway as if the door was but an illusion.

Harry had no intention of intruding to a great degree. Privacy was something that he respected but he needed to practice this technique. He was in a great hall filled with paintings. Each depicted what was surely a moment of interest in Mad-eye's long life. He was glimpses of his school days. A few with young women who might have been his girlfriends or wives, Harry guessed. Many were filled with dark wizards, fighting for their life. Mad-eye was still here to have the memories so Harry guessed at the outcome.

After a few moments, the door opened and Mad-eye came in, completely in shock. "How did you do that, Harry?" he demanded.

"I have considered that question since I felt I could do the same with Tonks," replied Harry. "I believe it has something to do with Fawkes. I don't know if you were told the whole story but I merged with Fawkes to save Minerva. I seem to have gained at least a part of some of his abilities."

"I see," said Mad-eye. "I guess we can leave, then." He made to head back out the door.

"One moment, Alastor," said Harry. "I want you to try to throw me out of your mind." He stood perfectly still, seemingly not preparing for an assault.

Mad-eye looked at him and nodded. There was no wand in his hand but he waved his arms menacingly and uttered a few spells. They passed through Harry as if he wasn't there, which he wasn't. Mad-eye then went to the standard technique and tried to use the mental body he was in to throw the other mental body of Harry out the door. Although he could get a grip on him, it was like a school girl attacking a professional wrestler. He finally gave up and left by himself.

Harry walked after him and, from the porch of Mad-eye's mind, they both returned to the sitting room of Grimmauld Place.

"That was interesting, Potter," he said. "I don't suppose you have a better explanation, do you? I was able to keep Voldemort out the one time we went up against each other. That was when the boards went up on the windows, by the way. You just walked right in." He looked a little embarrassed as well as curious.

"I don't claim to be an expert on phoenixes, Mad-eye," said Harry. Then, as if to himself, he said, "or would that be phoenixi?" He shook his head clear of the distraction. "I have gained, as I said, a few of the powers of Fawkes, if only in a limited sense. We are using one of those abilities to perform our mission. It is definitely not up to the level that Fawkes had but it is better than nothing. As you know, I can't say any more than that. This mind thing, however, is probably along those lines. That was how Fawkes communicated. As to how I passed your defenses, they probably didn't apply to me since I am not really using legilimancy."

"Could you please let the rest of us in on what you're talking about?" asked Tonks. She was looking forward to having one or the other of them ending up flying across the room and didn't hide her disappointment well.

"Potter kept me out of his mind and walked into mine like he owned the place," said Mad-eye, equally irritated.

"But he didn't even have his wand out," said Hermione. She hadn't tried legilimency but knew the procedure.

"He didn't need it," said Mad-eye. "He met me at his mind and took me back to mine. I have no idea how but I suggest everyone here realize that it should remain very secret." His eye whizzed around, looking at them each in turn.

"I agree," said Harry, standing up. "This might turn out to be important. I don't want Voldemort to get a whiff of it." He walked across the room and poured a glass of water from a decanter.

"I guess that means the two of us need to get to work on our occlumency," said Hermione. She sat in the chair vacated by Harry.

"Alright," agreed Mad-eye, "but just remember, I'm in a bad mood." He drew his wand and began her session.

Legilimency was never intended to be a spectator sport. The only time something exciting happens is when someone successfully throws off an attack. Hermione was not able to do that to Mad-eye but she did put up a fair fight for a beginner. After a few minutes, Mad-eye withdrew and sat back. Hermione rubbed her temples with her hand and closed her eyes to relax.

Mad-eye said, "Not too bad, Potter." Apparently, he didn't care to distinguish by first name if his subject know who he was talking to. "You need to work on shutting down all of your thought processes, though. I had trouble on your main concerns but the little things came through loud and clear." Turning towards Harry he said, "You've got to spend your creative energy on something besides your wife's nightgowns if you're going to defeat Voldemort, Potter." He then cracked a rare smile. It didn't really work that well on him but the thought was there.

Hermione blushed but said nothing. Harry, on the other hand, said, "It was important to me, Mad-eye. My wife is very beautiful and I want to be able to hold her without freezing her, ah, nose off." Harry now blushed a bit, thinking about what he almost said.

"Ron's turn," said Tonks, trying to change the subject.

Ron gulped and tried to clear his mind. He sat across from Mad-eye but was still about a head taller. Mad-eye began. As the time wore on into the second minute, Ron started to blush furiously. Mad-eye stopped and paused to consider his judgement. Finally, he said, "Well, you have the opposite problem from Mrs. Potter, Weasley. Only one thing on your mind that I can see." He turned both eyes at Honey. Then, looking down at her bag, he said, "I think you have to pay Potter royalties for that idea, Sweetwater." She started to blush brighter than Ron. After a second or so, however, a slight smile crept onto her lips.

Harry had instructed Winky to only observe Slinky during the preparations for dinner that night. He wanted her to see where improvement was needed and he wanted to see for himself how Remus, Tonks, Mad-eye and anyone else from the Order who stopped by would fare. Neither Lupin nor Tonks had said anything the last couple of days so he didn't know what to expect.

Slinky brought in the salads first. They were not particularly varied but they were clean and trimmed properly. An assortment of dressings allowed everyone to adjust it to their taste. The main course was the big surprise. He had just asked Slinky to make a regular dinner. He remembered now that he suggested that she make something that she liked. Apparently, she liked pizza. Two large barbecued chicken pizzas came floating after her and set themselves on the table. They were already cut so Tonks, Remus and Mad-eye each grabbed a piece and started in. It seemed that they were used to this particular meal. The teenagers and Honey were also no strangers to pizza so they also went to work. To be honest, it tasted great. Harry figured that he could live off of it for at least two years. Then again, he was a seventeen year old boy. He would speak to Winky and have her teach her niece a few other meals so the older residents didn't go crazy.

Dessert was also good, although not quite what Harry would have chosen to finish a pizza dinner. Then again, brownies are always good.

"Now my curiosity is up." Harry was laying in bed next to his wife. Normally, this would occupy his attention to the exclusion of everything else. Tonight, however, a whim which lead to a last minute change of plans had, as he had just said, caused him to be curious.

"I think you're jumping to conclusions," said Hermione. "They've only been dating for three weeks. What makes you think anything is going to happen?" She was a bit surprised when Harry had Winky and Slinky assign Ron and Honey to adjacent bedrooms on the previously unused third floor.

"We were dating for five whole minutes before we were engaged," retorted Harry.

"I don't think they're going to get engaged," said Hermione. She thought about it and amended, "At least not in the same sense of the word." She started to smile a bit. "Personally, I think that something will happen. I don't know what, but something will happen."

"I have an idea," said Harry. "Putting together what we know about the two of them and the clues Mad-eye gave us, I would say that nothing too improper will take place, yet. However, I've probably mentioned once too often how wonderful it is to fall asleep with the woman I love in my arms. I think that will be the extent of anything for now."

"I sort of agree," said Hermione, "although I think whether or not the slots get used could go either way."

"Fine," said Harry. "Now that we have that sorted out, can we get some sleep?" He rolled onto his side, facing her.

"Sure," she said, kissing him and then rolling onto her side, facing away from him. Their slots were well broken in.

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay between chapters. At least they are long. I hope to have the next one done by Monday.

Dad


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40 - The Horcrux

September 27th, 1997

"Good morning, Ron. How was your night?" Harry and Hermione had walked into the kitchen to find Ron and Honey eating breakfast.

"That's a bit of a personal question, Harry," said Ron. The three teens, in on the inside joke, laughed. Honey, not knowing the background behind that comment, looked to Ron for an explanation.

"I'm guessing there's some sort of a story there, somewhere," said Honey. "Would you like to explain it to me, dear?" She looked at Ron expectantly.

"Dear?" asked Harry, before Ron could react or Harry could control himself. Not that he would, anyway. "It's dear now, is it, Ron? Next thing you know, you'll be calling her Honey. No, wait." He feigned confusion as Hermione and Honey shook their heads at his lame joke.

"It's sort of a long story," said Hermione. "The short version is that about twenty of our friends and family showed up in the hallway outside our room on the morning after our wedding and that was the first question Remus asked and the answer that Harry gave. It's sort of a running joke, now."

"I see," said Honey, thinking. About five seconds later, she deduced the underlying innuendo in the question and started to blush. Trying to save what remained of her dignity, she foolishly admitted to the lesser offense that Harry had guessed at the night before. "Well, I'm sure we didn't carry on like newlyweds. Ron and I just kept each other company for a while."

"Really?" asked Harry, thanking the gods for such a sweet opening. "About how long a while are we talking about?"

"Just until breakfast," said Ron, putting both Honey and himself out of their misery.

The rest of breakfast went fairly smoothly. Winky was working with Slinky, showing her how to make all of Harry's favorite breakfast staples. Harry was glad that Ron was around since Winky would cook an item first and then let Slinky try. For a while there, Ron didn't look like he could eat it all.

The next order of business was deciding on the sequence they would take in checking out the three sites they wanted to visit. It turned out to be predestined. Stonehenge opened at nine-thirty, Souter Lighthouse didn't open until eleven and Parliament was never open without an appointment.

"How does this sound?" asked Harry. "We all go to Stonehenge. Hermione has been there and she can side-along me and I can come back for Ron and Honey. Then Honey can take me to her parent's house and I can come back for Ron and Hermione. After we figure out how to get to Souter Lighthouse, we do it together. Since Parliament isn't open to the public without an appointment, I'll do it alone with the invisibility cloak. Ron and Honey can spend some time with Honey's parents and I'll drop Hermione off at her parent's house. I'll join her there after I'm done. We can all decide for ourselves what we want to do for dinner and lodging and we'll meet back at Grimmauld Place for breakfast."

"Isn't that likely to be a little dangerous, Harry?" asked Ron. He had on his concerned face that Harry knew was totally fake.

Playing along, Harry asked, "What's dangerous?"

"Spending that much time with Honey's parents," replied Ron. "What if they start asking embarrassing questions?"

"Like how was your night?" suggested Hermione.

"Yes, like that," agreed Ron.

"Don't worry about that," said Honey. "As long as I'm not having an affair with Harry, they'll be happy."

"So they won't mind that you're having ..", began Harry. Whap! Hermione hit him on the back of his head.

"Excuse me," said Hermione, politely. "I think we should get going. It's almost nine now." She got up and the rest followed her example.

After they put on their muggle traveling gear, Harry and Hermione covered themselves with the invisibility cloak and Harry apparated them outside. Hermione then took over and they found themselves on the road near Stonehenge. They ducked behind some trees and removed the cloak. Harry then went back for Ron and Honey. A few seconds later, all four of them were looking up the hill at the ancient stones.

"Why didn't you take us closer?" asked Ron. He had a point. They must have been at least a half mile away from the stones.

"We have to pay to see it," explained Hermione. She pointed at a small shelter nearby and said, "There should be someone in there that will take our money. We'll get little stickers for our coats so they know we paid."

"What do they do with the money?" asked Ron. Paying to see rocks didn't seem very logical.

"They use it for maintenance, I suppose," said Hermione. She didn't really get it either. Surely, these stone have stood for millennia without having anyone taking care of them. Did they think they would fall down without having the grass clipped around them?

"Let's go," said Harry. "Someone should be there by now."

They walked up to the small building from the back and went around to the front. A middle-aged woman inside looked up from her knitting just long enough to sell them four tickets to see an old pile of rocks. Good work if you can get it.

Unlike Dryburgh Abbey, Harry decided to walk the grounds in a series of concentric circles around the edifice. While he did this, Ron, Hermione and Honey tried to determine any other use that Voldemort might have for the place.

"Forget the Death Eaters," said Ron. "I can't figure out why anyone would want to come here. Paying for the privilege only makes it harder to understand."

"It's a great mystery, Ron," said Hermione. "After all this time, no one knows what it was used for or how it was built. People like a mystery." She continued looking around out of pure enjoyment.

"What mystery?" asked Ron. "It's clearly the work of either wizards or giants. We could set up one of these at the Burrow in about five minutes." He casually took his wand and moved one of the upper stones from one set of pillars to another.

"What are you doing, Ron?" asked Hermione in a frantic stage whisper. "These stones have stayed in the exact same position for thousands of years. You can't just move them around."

"Why not?" asked Ron. "No one will notice. Even if they do, it will make for a little variety."

Hermione looked at him but said nothing. Eventually Ron turned around and raised the stone he had just moved. "Now let's see," he said. "Where was this?"

"On these two pillars here," said Hermione, pointing. She was trying to resist killing Ron until they were safely out of here and everything was back to normal. That might be awhile.

"Oops," said Ron, as the huge stone hit a pillar. It teetered for a moment and then fell over.

"Ron!" shouted Hermione and Honey in unison. They both quickly looked down the road to see if anyone was coming. Apparently, this wasn't quite the tourist attraction they were lead to believe.

"Hold that stone up a little higher, Ron," said Honey. She could see that Hermione was about to blow. "That's it. Now hold it until I put this other one back." She flicked her wand and the fallen pillar rose back into position. "Now lower it gently, dear," she said. Slowly, the several ton stone fell back into place.

"There," said Ron. "All back, safe and sound. Are you happy now, Hermione?" He smirked at her. Surely, she was overreacting about a stone falling over.

"Ron," said Hermione, threateningly, "this is a world famous English landmark. I'd bet you real money that some idiot will be checking those rocks with a micrometer and will scream bloody murder when he notices that they have moved."

"We won't be here, then," said Honey, reasonably. "Really, do you think anyone will care?" Clearly she didn't.

With two on one odds and the damage repaired as much as they could manage, she decided to let it go. "It'll be fine, now," she said. "Please promise me something, Ron." She looked at him, waiting for an answer.

"Sure, Hermione," he said. "Anything you want."

"Please don't destroy anything else, today," she said. "I won't hold you to tomorrow. Just try to resist the urge for the rest of the day. OK?" She was calmer now but still half in shock from when the pillar went over.

"I can only guarantee till three o'clock," said Ron, seriously. "After that, we'll see." He smiled at her and she reciprocated.

"Keep an eye on him, Honey," said Hermione and she went to see how Harry was doing.

By this time, he was almost to the road on one side of his circle. The recent rains allowed him to clearly see his previous paths so he knew he had properly covered the entire area.

"Nothing," he said in response to her mute question. "Just a pile of rocks." Looking a little hopeful, he asked, "Did you guys come up with an idea on why Voldemort wants to visit this place?"

"Probably to see if Ron came by," she said, sarcastically. "He nearly knocked the whole thing down, just now."

"Really?" asked Harry. "No harm done, though," he said. "It's just a pile of rocks, after all. Who would care?"

Hermione bit her tongue and walked back towards the others. The four of them looked around one last time for anyone. No one was within eyesight.

"OK, Honey," said Harry. "It's time to take me home to meet your parents."

Hermione's glare made Harry wish he had polarized sunglasses. He quickly grabbed Honey's arm and she apparated the two of them to her parent's front stoop. Harry looked around. The small yard was surrounded by a high hedge so they had plenty of privacy. After memorizing the location, he went back to pick up Ron and Hermione.

When they returned, Honey opened the front door and called in. "Mom? Dad?" She waited a moment for a reply.

She was about to go in anyway when they heard a female voice call back, "Honey? Is that you?" Honey indicated that they should follow her inside before replying.

"Yes, Mom," she called. They were all in the house now and Mrs. Sweetwater was coming into the entranceway from a back hallway.

"I'm so glad to see you, Honey," said Mrs. Sweetwater, giving her daughter a hug followed by a kiss. "It's been a whole month." She looked at the rest of the group, apparently waiting for introductions.

"Mom," said Honey, "This is Hermione and Harry Potter. They are students of mine at Hogwarts."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Sweetwater," said Hermione, taking her hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," said Mrs. Sweetwater, smiling. She turned to Harry and said, "I'm very glad to meet you, Harry. Especially, now that I know the Prophet article was mistaken. Oh, the embarrassment. Well, you can imagine."

"I certainly can, Mrs. Sweetwater," replied Harry, thinking it would be quite a while before he forgot that incident.

"And this is Ron Weasley, of course," finished Honey. She stepped back so Ron could approach her mother.

"Honey's written me all about you, Ron," said Mrs. Sweetwater. "He is tall, isn't he," she said to her daughter.

"I suppose I am, Mrs. Sweetwater," said Ron, taking her hand. "It's very nice to meet you at last. Honey has only told me how nice you and Mr. Sweetwater are so I am looking forward to getting to know you a bit better." Hermione had coached Ron on a few ideas on what to say to Honey's mother and it paid off.

"Please call me Nesta," said Nesta. "It takes way too long to say Mrs. Sweetwater." She turned and started to walk away, calling out, "Come into the back room, everyone. Dad's out in his garden of course, Honey. I'll go call him in." She led them to a sunroom in the back of the house. Nesta didn't stop and went straight to the patio doors while Honey motioned towards a few chairs and a couch in the well lit, foliage heavy room. It was clear that at least one of Honey's parents liked their plants. Since Nesta was calling Mr. Sweetwater in from the garden, it was assumed that he was the enthusiast.

"Your mother seems nice enough," said Ron. He wasn't really sure what to expect. He assumed that the parents of Honey would have to be good people for her to turn out so well but you never know.

"Thanks, Ron," said Honey. "Both of them are really, well, sweet." She looked out to see if they were coming back.

Everyone sat down to wait but had to rise again almost immediately as Nesta led her husband into the room.

"Hi, Dad," said Honey, giving her father a hug and kiss like she had given her mother before. "I'm sorry to take you away from your work." She turned to the others and said, "Dad, this is Hermione and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They are all students of mine and Ron is also my boyfriend."

"Pleased to meet you all," said Mr. Sweetwater. "I'm Luke, by the way," he said, shaking each of their hands in turn. Stopping at Ron, he said, "So you're the young man who has swept my little girl off her feet, eh?" He gave Ron an appraising look.

"I guess so, er, Luke," said Ron, not really knowing if he should call him by his first name.

"That's Luke, not er Luke," said Luke, letting Ron off the hook. "Let's all have a seat so we can get to know you better." He immediately went to what was probably his favorite chair.

Harry jumped in. "Actually, Luke," he said, "We were hoping to put that off for just a little while. We have two other places to go to today and Honey thought you could help us out."

Both Luke and Nesta frowned at that. "You're not going to stay even for a while?" asked Nesta, heartbroken.

"Oh, of course," said Honey, understanding their concern. "We were hoping to spend the entire afternoon and evening with you, if that would be alright. Well, just Ron and I, that is. Harry and Hermione were planning on visiting her parents today, too. First, though, we need to get to Whitburn."

"Whitburn?" asked Luke. "Why on earth would anyone want to go to Whitburn?"

"It's business," said Harry. "We actually need to see the lighthouse. Have you ever been there?"

"I've been to Whitburn once or twice," said Luke. "Never too close to any lighthouse, though."

"Anywhere in the town would do," said Hermione. "We only have to stay a while and then Ron and Honey could come back here for a nice visit." She was trying to give them the hint that the sooner they started, the sooner they would return.

"I suppose we have time," said Luke, getting up. "I'll get the motor car."

"Wouldn't it be faster to just apparate there?" asked Harry.

"I suppose it would," said Luke. "If you are in a hurry, perhaps you should do that."

"I've never been there," said Harry. "That's why we stopped by."

"I'm afraid that I can't apparate anymore," said Luke. "Inner ear problem that started acting up a few years back. Sorry."

"I thought you took care of that," said Honey. She was seeing her one suggestion at the beginning of this trip as being the weak link.

"I did," said Luke. "I stopped doing it."

"Maybe Nesta could take Harry there and then he could take the rest of us," suggested Hermione.

"I've never been there," said Nesta. "It's only twenty or so miles. Why not just have Luke run three of you over and then he can drive back and the rest of you can apparate when you're done?"

"Sounds like fun," said Ron. He didn't want this to go on much longer, either. It would be better to just take what help they could get and move on.

"Three of us?" asked Harry. "Why not all four?"

"I'm afraid the old Austin Seven isn't quite up to that many at once," said Luke. "In fact," he said, glancing at Ron, "perhaps I should just take you and your wife and then the two of you can come back for Ron and Honey."

"That's fine," said Harry, hoping to get this show on the road, so to speak. "Anytime you're ready, Luke."

Luke went out back to the garage while the rest of them followed Nesta out front to wait for him. After a minute or so, they heard what sounded like a lawn mower coming around the corner.

Luke was driving a very vintage automobile that was probably more accurately described, as Luke had done, as a motor car. It was also a bit unusual for another reason.

"Did you leave it out in the rain or something?" asked Harry. This was the smallest car he had ever seen. It would be lucky to be ten feet long.

"Well, there's only the two of us, most of the time," explained Luke. "It also has character." He was right about that. The crank alone qualified it for that status. Combined with the fold-down windshield, side mounted headlights and avocado green paint job, it was definitely unusual.

"Perhaps I should wait, too," said Hermione. She had a good look at what could laughingly be called the back seat and decided that a short visit with Nesta would be very nice.

"Fine," said Harry, grudgingly. He got into the car next to Luke. "Anytime you're ready, Luke."

"I'll be back in a bit, dear," said Luke, kissing his wife goodbye, or as Harry thought, farewell.

He moved a stick on the floor forward and they lurched off.

To say that Esh was a small town would be an insult to real small towns. Esh was almost literally a bump in the road. After about a mile, they entered the town of Langley Park. Now this was a real small town since it had more than one street. After about a mile, they left Langley Park and got on a roundabout that led, to his horror, onto a real road. It was the A691 and Harry had just enough experience driving in real cars to know that on a real road like the A691, you needed a real car, not a toy one. Luke continued on, apparently not noticing the frequent honking and swerving of real cars and very real trucks coming up on them at a slightly higher speed than the forty miles per hour that this rubber band powered death trap could manage. By the third roundabout, Harry wasn't even sure if they were going in the right direction anymore. Thankfully, the engine was whining at so high a pitch that he couldn't hear whatever the lunatic besides him was trying to say. He had all he could do to prepare to apparate the two of them away when the inevitable crash occurred.

After about thirty minutes of terror, he noticed that they left the A690 behind and jumped to the A1231, followed closely by the A183 and A1018. For some reason they then got back on the A183. Harry thanked his lucky stars that he didn't have to use the road system on a daily basis and held on. Just as he was starting to understand the practice of ancient merchants to promise God to build a church if they just got home safely, they arrived in Whitburn. Luke pulled over.

"There you go, Harry," said Luke, cheerily. "Quite the ride, wasn't it?" He actually looked happy. Harry said, "Yes, indeed, Luke. Thank you." He made a note to tell Ron that insanity ran in Honey's family.

"I'll be off, then," said Luke. "I expect we'll see you later this afternoon." He waved and pulled out into traffic.

Harry watched him drive off and then looked around. The road was near the ocean at least. He started to walk to a nearby shop to see if they could give him directions to Souter Lighthouse when Luke drove back into view. He made a totally illegal u-turn and pulled up next to Harry.

"You say you're looking for a lighthouse?" he asked.

"Yes," said Harry. "Souter Lighthouse. It's supposed to be pretty big."

"It is," said Luke. "Get in. I saw it up the road a ways. I can't believe I never noticed it before."

Harry had reservations about riding in a car with a man who just admitted he never noticed an eighty foot tall, red and white striped tower but it beat walking. In short order, he was exiting the vehicle again, this time for the last time.

Within five minutes, he had found a secluded spot nearby and apparated back for the others. "Did you have a nice trip, Harry," asked Nesta in a friendly voice.

"Very," lied Harry. He didn't want to tip his hand in case he ever had the chance to trick Ron into a ride as a prank.

"That's nice," said Nesta. "When should I have dinner ready, dear," she asked Honey.

"I would say that we should be back in just a couple of hours or so, Mom," replied Honey. "It didn't take that long at the last place."

"That's nice, dear," replied Nesta. "I'll be looking forward to having a long talk with you, too, Ron." She gave him an appraising motherly look and waited for them to leave.

"Everyone grab an arm," said Harry. They did so and he took them to the lighthouse.

Ron looked around and said, "Wow, this is much better than the rocks. There's a view of the ocean and everything."

"It's a lighthouse, Ron," said Hermione. "Where did you think they'd put it?"

"How should I know?" he asked. He walked up to the sign at the entrance. It read "The National Trust. Welcome to Souter Lighthouse. The first lighthouse in the world that used an alternating current based light." It went on to list the hours and other bits of information.

"Hermione?" asked Ron. "What's alternating current?"

She could tell that he, like most purebloods in this situation, wasn't kidding.

"It's a form of electricity," she explained. "It means that the electrons change direction and flow backwards in the wires half of the time."

"What are electrons?" asked Ron, predictably.

"Little pieces of electricity," replied Hermione.

"And they don't always go the same way?" he continued.

"That's right," said Hermione. "In some circuits, they do and in some they don't."

"What's the difference?" asked Ron, curiously.

"Ronald," said Hermione, losing her patience, "how is it that you can go six years at Hogwarts and never ask one question in class but we come here and you ask me all sorts of questions like I'm a bloody electrical engineer?"

"I have a question," stated Honey, apparently to them both. They stopped their argument and looked at her. "I think that I have a bit of an insight on both of you and I was just wondering what it was that made you two ever even try to date?"

"Temporary insanity," said Harry, matter-of-factly. He walked past them up to the lighthouse.

Ron mouthed "He's right." to Honey and Hermione and the three of them laughed and followed.

When they entered the building, they found that they had to choose how much to pay. Harry was reading this notice and the strange explanation trying to figure out what the bloody hell "gift aid" was and why it was important that he paid it.

"Hermione?" asked Harry, "how much do I pay?"

Hermione looked at the sign and said, "It looks like four pounds each unless you want to pay more. If you do pay more, they get some sort of a refund from the government. It looks like a lot more than you pay in." She looked confused.

"So what does that mean?" he asked.

"Bloody hell if I know," she said, turning away from the sign to the young lady taking admission. "Just give her some money and let's get going."

Harry gave two twenty pound notes to the lady and she seemed happy so they went in and looked around.

There were all sorts of bits of machinery on display and notices explaining their purpose. The stairs to the top was an interesting spiral and there was a television at the bottom of the stairs showing what could only be the view from the top.

"Isn't it a little annoying for the blokes who work here to have people running around all the time," asked Ron.

"They don't have full time lighthouse keepers anymore, Ron," said Hermione. "They just come by once in a while to check on things."

"I'm sure I saw an advertisement for one in the Daily Prophet," said Ron. "I remember it because they only wanted women."

Hermione was curious so she asked, "Are you sure? In the Daily Prophet? What did the advertisement say, exactly?"

"I think it said that they wanted a woman to do lighthouse keeping," said Ron.

Hermione stopped and shook her head. "I'm sure that it said they wanted a woman to do light housekeeping, Ron." She stomped off. Ron winked at Honey who, getting the joke, laughed and gave Ron a very nice kiss.

Harry had moved to the staircase and had climbed the seventy-some steps to the top. The view was spectacular but there was no horcrux up here. He glanced at the huge array of lenses and wondered if they would be powerful enough to be able to read the fine print on a goblin produced agreement. Remembering the quite large area surrounding the lighthouse, not to mention the attached house where the lighthouse keepers lived, he descended again.

"Anything up there?" asked Hermione. She hadn't noticed Harry when he climbed up, being distracted by the plethora of odd trinkets and bits of equipment everywhere.

"Not what we're looking for," he said. "I'll go do the grounds. You lot can try to figure out what Dryburgh Abbey, Stonehenge and this place have in common." He walked outside.

Without any real hope for success, he walked through the keeper's house. It looked like a regular house. Harry noticed with a laugh that it was set up to show life in the nineteenth century but it looked quite familiar to anyone who was a witch or wizard. Candles and oil lamps for illumination. No television or other modern appliances. Old fashioned clothing. Harry was sure that Ron would have a hard time understanding what the fuss was all about. He walked back outside.

"Oy! Harry!" shouted Ron. He and the others were about one hundred feet away by a small building with the largest horn Harry had ever seen. The bell had to be twelve feet across.

Harry walked up to them. "Blimey, Ron. Do you think that would be enough to wake you in the morning?"

"He is hard to get going, isn't he," said Honey. She then realized what she had said and put her hand to her mouth.

"You might want to be a little more careful about that sort of a comment when you're around other people, Honey," said Hermione. "They might get the right idea." She walked away from the blushing couple to join her husband.

"I have to walk the area," said Harry. "You three might want to wait in the tea shop." He pointed towards the side of the lighthouse keepers house where he had noticed a small room for tea and snacks.

"Would it distract you if I walked with you?" asked Hermione.

"Not at all," replied Harry. "Just don't expect much conversation." The two of them walked off, hand in hand. Honey and Ron walked back to the tea shop to wait.

When they had traversed a reasonable distance, Hermione tapped Harry's shoulder and said, "When you find a good place for a break, let me know." She didn't want to disturb him but clearly wanted to talk.

Harry continued on for another twenty yards or so and then stopped to look out over the sea. It was a fairly windy day and the waves would be troublesome to smaller boats. "I'm listening," he said.

"I was wondering if we aren't, oh I don't know, corrupting our friends over there," she asked.

Harry laughed before looking at her. When he did, he noticed that she was serious. "What do you mean by corrupting them?" he asked.

"Well, not corrupting them, perhaps," she amended. "Maybe just making it too easy for them. Oh, I don't know. They seem to be taking things very fast." Hermione looked out to sea as well but wasn't really seeing it.

"Not as fast as us," reminded Harry. They were engaged before they started dating.

"It's not the same, Harry," argued Hermione. "We knew each other for six years. They just met. I know it's none of our business and they seem to be in love but are we encouraging them to rush into something by taking them on this trip and giving them adjoining rooms and everything? Sometimes having an obstacle or two to slow you down is a good thing."

Harry thought about it. Hermione is usually right about everything. Was he making it too easy for the lovebirds? Then again, if he and Hermione had decided to date instead of get married, how long would they have needed two rooms in the Head's Suite?

"I think the cat's out of the bag, anyway," he said. "They're both adults and can make their own decisions. Personally, if they aren't at least engaged by Christmas, I'll be surprised."

Hermione looked back towards their friends and had to agree. She nodded and they walked on, finishing the grounds.

Ron and Honey were sitting next to each other when Harry and Hermione walked into the room. Harry bought tea for the two of them. It was a cold day, after all. Sitting across from the other couple, he said, "No luck." That told the story for the search so far.

"Well we might have something," said Ron. He leaned forward to help conceal their conversation.

"What?" asked Harry, heartening a little.

"Well," began Ron. "We were discussing how lucky it was that Honey's parents lived nearby. I'm not sure how Remus was going to bring us here but if he hadn't been around, how would we manage it?"

Harry thought a moment but Hermione had the answer. "We would apparate as close as we could and then either fly in on brooms or take local transportation," she said.

"Exactly," said Ron. "Now, if you look at these places on a map, you'll see that they are spread out all over the country. We might not know about all of them, yet, but I think that if you were familiar with just the ones that are known, you could get near almost anywhere very quickly. Maybe they are doing what Martha suggested; using these places as intermediate points for apparating."

"You mean that is their only purpose?" said Harry, disappointed. "They were just training for rapid deployment to anywhere in the country?"

"To anywhere, from anywhere," concluded Ron. "They could be spread out all over and converge on one of these spots in just a few minutes. So far, they all have large open areas and are relatively secluded. If you were going to strike someplace, it would be an ideal marshalling location."

"Then what about Parliament, the Ministry of Magic, Buckingham Palace and places like those?" asked Hermione. "They wouldn't be very secluded."

"I'm not saying some of these places aren't doing double duty," said Ron. "I just think that Voldemort might just be setting up his own highways with them, that's all."

Harry thought about this for a while. "Oddly, I don't think that changes our plans that much," he said. "We should still visit each site and check them for horcruxes and anything else that might be of interest. If Voldemort is using them for intermediate apparition points, we should, too. If we see a large number of Death Eaters all of a sudden, we should be able to respond quickly."

"That should go for the commando elves, too," said Ron. "Dobby placed the original medallions. I don't know if any of the rest of them can find these places very quickly."

"Good idea, Ron," said Hermione. She had been jotting down anything of use during this conversation on a piece of parchment. Harry noticed an odd look from the tea lady. She was watching Hermione write.

"Hermione," said Harry, softly, "you might want to add ball point pens and a regular notepad to your list when we're out and about. It might be less obvious."

Hermione looked at her eagle feather quill and bottle of ink and blushed. "Perhaps you're right, dear," she said and discretely put everything away.

Harry stood alone outside Parliament. Ron and Honey were most likely enjoying dinner with her parents and Hermione was perhaps still trying to extract herself from the hug her mother gave her when she saw her.

Like most people who spent any amount of time in London, Harry had been within sight of the Palace of Westminster many times. He had never been inside, however and he needed a lift. While he could open any locked door with ease, he was not so sure about any alarms that might be set off. He decided to wait for a ride.

He didn't know it, but he was at the last door that anyone would use; the Sovereign's Entrance. Since the Queen wasn't even in town, he had a long wait. Fortunately for him, he was also near the Peer's entrance and a fairly new Member of Parliament from Uxbridge, Mr. John Randall, was off to his office to try to catch up a bit. Harry noticed the middle aged, wispy-bearded man stride by fumbling for his keys. Harry followed and, by maintaining his cover under the invisibility cloak, was able to slip through the doors.

He entered a room filled with portraits. Two were especially large; one of a naval battle and the other of some sort of a meeting during a land conflict. Just past a small room, he found himself in a room full of benches. This room was very elegantly furnished. The thick, plush leather benches were large and comfortably spaced and the woodwork extremely extravagant. What caught his attention, however, was the huge gilded backdrop to what he suspected might be the throne. It would be just like Voldemort to put a horcrux in something he couldn't take if he wanted to. The throne would work very well for that. Fortunately, he detected nothing here. Through another small room and a short hallway and he was in a great hall richly tiled and lavishly decorated with intricate carvings and several marble statues. Black leather upholstered benches lined the walls and a discrete sign near him indicated that this was the Central Lobby of Parliament. Apparently a place for constituents to meet their representatives. Harry walked around the large room, trying to concentrate on detecting a horcrux. Perhaps they were wrong and this could also just be a meeting place for the Death Eaters. This room was certainly large enough for a hundred or so.

Walking through another short hallway and small room, Harry found himself in a very large auditorium of some sort with row after row of green upholstered benches positioned very steeply up the walls. He was sure that he wouldn't want to trip in there. He walked through the immense chamber but felt nothing. Or did he? He thought that maybe he could feel something. Perhaps it was history he felt. This palace certainly had enough of it. He moved around a bit and could feel that it was beyond the walls in back. He checked but there was no door so he had to back track a little. Back in the hallways, he returned to the end of the building that he suspected the feeling came from and, sure enough, there it was again. He followed it to the very end of the palace and was about to go out a side door into a sort of sparse garden when he felt the position move. It was coming from a tower and it was above him.

Harry moved back into the palace and found his way into the bottom of what turned out to be a very tall tower. He guessed he could see up at least two hundred feet. He saw, as he had seen from time to time since he arrived, cameras and some sort of red lights in and on the walls everywhere but with his invisibility cloak, he could not be noticed. He walked up the steps and the sensation grew stronger. He had a horcrux in his sights.

After several flights, he came up to the bells. He was worried about this. What if the horcrux was Big Ben? He wouldn't get three feet and every auror in the country, both muggle and magical, would be after him. It got worse. As he passed the huge bells, he realized that they were the little ones. Before him loomed Big Ben. They weren't kidding. This monster was at least nine feet wide and seven feet tall. He came up to it's level, wondering how to get it down when he noticed that the horcrux was coming from a room nearby. He walked in and found an extremely complex mechanism that was slowly moving. A long pendulum was swingy very slowly. It seemed to make one swing every two seconds or so. The horcrux was somewhere in there.

Harry saw the beauty of it. Make a part of the clockwork of the most famous clock in the world a horcrux. Enthusiasts would give a year off the back end of their lives for the honor of oiling it. Any attempt to replace or repair a part is going to be front page news. He had sat in his Uncle's house many times listening to the news and the time on the hour was a live broadcast of the bell hanging across the hall. The bell that rang when this clock told it to. A one second difference would be noticed and almost immediately checked on. People might not look too closely at their watches when the quarter hour bells went off but Big Ben's word was law. That was the time. He felt himself wishing he was back in the cave with the inferi.

He tried to control himself. He didn't have to take it today. It might not even be in the mechanism. It might be something easy to remove without altering the time. He moved around, noting the direction from every point he could get to. He eventually noticed that it was not stationary. Harry looked around. Nothing was moving very fast at all. Nothing except...

"Oh, no," he muttered. It was the pendulum. The fifteen foot long, immensely heavy, totally vital pendulum.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41 - Adjustments and Plans

September 27th, 1997

"My, you two have been busy, haven't you," said Emma. Hermione had just finished giving her and Dan a rundown on their activities since the start of school. She had read about most of it, of course, from letters that Hermione had sent, but it was still nice to hear it first hand. She addressed Harry and said, "I really wish we could have come when you were so hurt after that train wreck but Hermione said you would be OK and we couldn't get in to see you anyway. Still, it was hard to stay away." She looked like she was still pretty upset about it.

"Actually, we are working on a solution to that problem," said Hermione. "Since Harry's aunt and uncle are going to have to be long term guests, Professor Flitwick and I have been trying to get around the muggle repelling spells. We don't think it will be much longer before we have something sorted out, at least in part. Then you can come visit." If the truth were known, Hermione would be much more inspired to work hard on the project if it was not for the vision of Uncle Vernon insulting everyone he saw with his comments about the unnaturalness of magic. If she had the hope of her own parents visiting, maybe she would be able to work a bit harder.

"That would be lovely, dear," said Emma. Dan and Harry had already used up the maximum male allotment of words for the day and just sat listening. The women, of course, had no such restrictions and continued on with their conversation. Ron and Honey had, as planned, gone back to her parent's house for the rest of the day. Harry's mind had wandered into hoping that Ron was ready to fly solo, as it were, with Honey's parents. Without either Hermione or himself to whack him in the head once in a while, he was prone to say some pretty stupid things when nervous.

"Harry?" said Hermione, looking at him. "Weren't you listening?"

Harry came around. "Oh, of course," he lied. "I just forgot who was talking or what they said." Dan laughed but the female part of his family didn't think it was funny.

"Well, it has been a long day for you, I suppose," conceded Emma, looking at her watch. "Oh, my. It's already eleven o'clock. Maybe we should let you two get some sleep."

It had been a long day and Harry had three long walks and one discouraging success. With his dilemma in front of him, he was only too glad to bid the Grangers goodnight and apparate back to Grimmauld Place.

"Good evening, Master. Good evening, Mistress," said Slinky when they returned. Winky was standing nearby to make sure her niece performed correctly but would not interfere unless needed. "Would Master or Mistress like a snack or drink before bed?" She stood ready to serve.

"Perhaps some ice water on the night stand," said Harry.

"Winky," asked Harry, "did Ron and Honey return, yet?" They had not made definite plans other than breakfast but he would like to get Ron and Hermione's input on retrieving the horcrux. Perhaps Honey would also be helpful since transfiguring a new pendulum was a definite possibility.

"Yes, Master," said Winky. "They is saying they is tired and is being in bed, Master."

"Thank you, Winky," said Harry. He didn't think to ask if they were in one bed or two.

"I guess it can wait until morning," he said to Hermione. He had only told her that he found a horcrux while they were at her parents. The details could wait until he would only have to tell the tale once.

"Give me a clue, Harry," said Hermione. "Why didn't you grab it and bring it with you? Is it being watched or something."

"Yes," said Harry, "by nearly everyone in England." He thought about that answer and amended it. "Actually, it runs something that is being watched. It's the pendulum to the Westminster Clock."

Hermione sat quietly, thinking. Eventually, she said, "I see what you mean. If we can't either destroy the horcrux in place or replace the pendulum with a perfect replica, the clock will be off and everyone in the country will know about it." She, like Harry, admired the genius behind the choice. "I guess he wanted to know immediately if it was taken. It might give him time to find it."

"My thoughts exactly," said Harry. He was getting excited about the discussion now, despite the hour. "I wonder if Ron is still awake." He turned to ask Winky to check but Hermione, interpreting his intentions, stopped him.

"I think you shouldn't be wondering if he is awake, but if he is alone," said Hermione, wisely.

Harry thought about it and agreed. "I suppose," he said. "Let's just let it go until breakfast."

Hermione agreed and they went to bed.

September 28th, 1997

The next morning, Harry and Hermione went down to breakfast and, as before, found Honey and Ron had preceded them. Unlike yesterday, however, only Ron was in his robe and pajamas. Honey was fully dressed. Since it was the custom at Grimmauld Place to breakfast before dressing, Harry felt compelled to comment.

"Didn't you get the news, Honey?" he asked as they sat down. "We eat breakfast in our nightclothes in this house. He pulled up a plate of bacon and cauldron cakes and dug in.

"I couldn't find my nightgown and didn't want to come down in just a robe so I got dressed," explained Honey, distractedly. She was finished with breakfast and was reading the paper while waiting for Ron.

Harry and Hermione both stopped eating. A second later, Ron also stopped eating but said nothing. Honey, realizing too late exactly what this bunch could deduce from the information she had foolishly provided, decided that silence was golden. Hermione mutely prayed that Harry wouldn't say anything but she was, as always, too optimistic.

"You lost your nightgown?" asked Harry, practically bursting with mirthful incredulity.

Honey was thinking. Perhaps she could pull this one out of the fire. "Well, I laid it on the chair next to my bed yesterday morning but when I went to look for it, it was gone." She hoped that would be the end of it.

"I can't understand it," said Harry in mock surprise. "Slinky." Honey and Hermione both closed their eyes but Ron was starting to grin, uncontrollably.

"Yes, Master," said the young elf. "What can I be doing for Master."

"Miss Sweetwater seems to have misplaced her nightgown," he said. "Would you know where it might be?"

"Yes, Master," said Slinky. "I is washing it while you is being gone yesterday and laid it out on her bed. I is then packing it for her this morning since she isn't needing it last night."

"Thank you, Slinky," said Harry. Turning to the violently blushing blond on his left, he said, "There you are, Honey. Nothing to worry about. It's in your bag." He then went back to his breakfast.

Hermione said, "I'm afraid my husband is a bit of a prat at times. Unfortunately, he picked it up from Ron and his brothers. Imagine breakfast with all seven of them and if you still love Ron, you'll be ready for anything."

"Don't forget Ginny," added Ron, finishing up his toast and coffee.

"I've already had a few doses of Ginny," said Honey, starting to get used to the idea that she no longer had any secrets.

"In that case, welcome to the family," said Harry. They all laughed and settled back to normal.

About a half hour after breakfast, with all of them now properly dressed, they met to discuss the previous day's activities. Winky had been sent to fetch Remus and Tonks from the Fortress which they had been holding down while the younger crowd went on their excursions. Once they had arrived, Harry had summoned them all into the sitting room.

Holding up an envelope he had received in the morning's mail, he said, "The Minister has finally answered my letter and has agreed to a meeting on Tuesday morning, at ten o'clock. We'll need to discuss that as well, today." He set the letter on a table. "However, before we start," continued Harry, "I'd just like to ask Honey one question. Did we every let slip what it was we were looking for all day yesterday?"

"Only about fifty times," said Honey. "You were looking for a horcrux, whatever that is." She seemed to be waiting for an explanation. Remus and Tonks shared a concerned look.

"I thought so," said Harry. "We weren't really planning on having anyone else know about that but I guess it's too late now."

"Well, we could have Tonks obliviate her," suggested Hermione. She wasn't too sure if that would be a well received idea.

"A whole day?" asked Honey in disbelief.

"If you cooperate," said Tonks, "or at least don't resist, I can usually just target the specific memories we would be looking for."

"I don't think that will be necessary," said Harry. "If Honey is going to be accompanying us, and I believe she will, she might as well know what we are doing."

"I agree," said Ron. "Luna already checked her out so she should be fine."

"Luna?" asked Remus. "How did she get involved?"

"She was able to figure out the true identity of Dougal in about three days," said Harry. "After asking her about that, she revealed that she can tell if you are good or evil and whether or not you are lying."

"I wondered how they got invited to your slumber breakfast," said Remus.

"I think you made another mistake, Harry," said Honey.

Harry thought for a moment while Honey smiled on, encouragingly. Finally, he said, "I give up. What did I let slip now?"

"You said that Dougal has a true identity," she replied. "That's news to me."

Harry sat stunned for a second before saying, "I did that on purpose. I just wanted to see if you were honest enough to bring it up. Congratulations, Honey. You get my vote to join our little society."

Ron said, "I agree. I don't really see any options, anyway. We found out yesterday that we're too thick to keep our secrets from her so we might as well let her in on everything."

"I also tend to agree," said Lupin, "but before you tell her your secrets, I would first tell her the truth about the risks. Fighting Voldemort is not an occupation that leads to a long life. We should explain what the consequences could be and then let her decide."

Harry got serious and sighed. "You're right, Remus," he agreed. After a moment to gather his thoughts, he began, "Without going into details until you understand and agree to the danger, I want you to know that I am the greatest threat facing Voldemort and he knows it. We are trying to kill him and he is trying to kill us. In fact, you are currently sitting with his number one, two and three main targets. Remus and Tonks are just as active in this fight but have managed to stay out of the public eye. Even so, they are at great risk by working with us. Dobby was completely unknown but still paid the ultimate price. If Voldemort wins, he will then move on to our entire families and probably our close friends. You are in danger by merely dating Ron. If the extent of your relationship were known, you would also be a target; probably in the top ten. His army of Death Eaters grows daily. I have never noticed the slightest mercy from either Voldemort or any of his minions. The chance of all of us surviving until Voldemort is truly dead is not good. Think carefully about this and let us know if you wish to proceed."

Before Honey had time to think, Hermione spoke up. "There is the other side, Honey," she said. "I was almost killed by a troll let in by a servant of Voldemort. I was petrified by Slytherin's monster which was under the direction of a soul fragment of Voldemort. I was attacked by dementors who also tried to kill Harry. I was almost killed by Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic. I have been kidnaped and raped for being Harry's friend. I had to fight against Voldemort on my wedding day."

"That's the other side?" interrupted Ron. "Isn't there a good side?"

"I was getting to that, Ronald," said Hermione. "Anyway, Honey. Despite all of that, I have never regretted my decision to marry Harry or be involved in this struggle. Minerva was ignorant of our activities and it didn't save her. Before her capture, two muggles that were completely innocent of anything against Voldemort died because their house was convenient for him. If I am going to die, I want it to be because of my actions, not in spite of my inaction. It is entirely possible that Harry or I will be widowed before this is all over. If that happens, so be it. I will enjoy our time together until the end. Of course, I can say all of this because I know the details on what Harry has hinted at. To put it bluntly, if we don't kill Voldemort, no one ever will. I don't want to live under his tyranny so I will dedicate my life to see that doesn't happen. In times like these, that is the good side. The ability to fight against eternal damnation for all mankind is worth a few risks and I doubt I will ever have a more fulfilling or important purpose."

Honey sat quietly. The rest of them remained silent; waiting. After a minute, she said, "I don't really know what to think. I've always known that you were fighting against Voldemort. The whole world knows that, of course. I guess I never really believed it was you or him, despite the "Chosen One" talk. Like everyone else, I felt it made a good story but thought that a lucky shot from a wizard in the right place at the right time would be more likely to take him out. To find out that a group of five people, three of whom are still students, is the hope of the world is a little hard to adjust to." She sat a moment longer before stating, "I'm glad I was able to visit with my parents, today. My mother had some advice. I think she was talking about Ron but it applies to this, as well. She said that I should listen to my heart. Well, my heart tells me that Hermione is right. I love Ron and I don't care who knows it. I will also do my best to help him and all of you in whatever way I can."

They sat silently for a moment. Hermione reached over and smacked Ron and said, "You're supposed to say something sweet now." Honey smiled for a second and then turned to face Ron, expectantly.

Ron looked at Honey and opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He leaned over to Hermione and whispered, "Like what?" Honey started to chuckle.

Hermione put her head in her hands and said, "Just stick with the basics. Tell her you love her."

"I love you, Honey," said Ron. They kissed

"And I want to marry you," said Harry.

"And I want to marry you," repeated Ron. They kissed, again.

"I'll let you know," said Honey. They kissed, yet again.

"Should we just give your nightgown to the relief effort?" asked Harry.

Both Honey and Ron failed to blush, this time.

Tonks looked at Harry. "You seem to spend a lot of time worrying about nightgowns, Harry."

Harry smiled and said, "I suppose I do." Then, remembering why they were there in the first place, he said, "Well, Honey. Ron can fill you in on the details later but the basic story is that the Daily Prophet has been correct on it's reporting for the last couple of years about the prophecy. I am the only one who has the power to kill Voldemort. The problem is that he is immortal. He has safeguarded his soul by creating a number of horcruxes. A horcrux is a vessel that contains part of your soul. As long as it remains intact, you can't die. Voldemort made six of them. Two are destroyed. We have the third and I found the fourth one yesterday."

"You did?" exclaimed Tonks. "That's great, Harry." Remus also looked ecstatic.

"Yes," replied Harry. "It might be a little hard to get, though."

"Well, the last one was hard, too," replied Ron. "I can't see this one being any worse."

"It's not dangerous like the locket," said Harry. "It's just in a spot that makes it so that Voldemort will know within a few hours at most, that it is gone. Probably quicker than that."

"Where is it, Harry?" asked Remus.

"The Westminster Clock Tower," said Harry. "It's the pendulum."

The room fell silent for a moment as that sunk in.

"I've been thinking about that," said Hermione. She had all night to work on the problem and hadn't wasted the opportunity. "It fits in with what Ron suggested a while back. Voldemort wants his horcruxes to still be in a secure location but a little more accessible in case he needs them. If I were Voldemort, I wouldn't care about the clock at all and would just take the pendulum and leave. On the other hand, if we do that, not only would he know about it almost immediately; we would be damaging a world famous landmark of England. He's probably counting on us not wanting to do that."

"I didn't know you could transfer the soul fragment from one horcrux vessel to another," said Remus. "Are you sure the pendulum is a horcrux?"

"I walked all around the clockworks," explained Harry. "I could sense the direction of the horcrux and I could also tell it was moving. The only thing moving was the pendulum and that was also where I could feel Voldemort's soul."

"That sounds pretty conclusive," agreed Ron. "Of course, we don't have to get it right now. As long as we know where it is, we can come back later. That's the downside of having an easily accessible horcrux; it's easily accessible."

"True enough," said Harry. "We still have two more to find and even the one in the safe isn't that close to being destroyed. The pendulum can swing for a while longer. We should all keep it in mind in case something suggests itself on how to take it without anyone knowing about it." Turning to Honey, he said, "Ron and Honey also came up with a possible reason for the Death Eaters to keep visiting the locations we have been monitoring. Honey, why don't you explain your idea."

Honey looked stunned. She was hoping to just listen in on the first couple of meetings. Harry wasn't going to let her coast, though. Seeing that they were waiting for her, she swallowed once and started with a disclaimer. "I'm no good at speaking in front of groups so bear with me."

"Pardon me, Professor?" asked Hermione, emphasizing the "professor". She was reminding Honey that she made her living explaining things to groups.

"Sorry," she said, rattled. "Well, Ron and I were discussing the similarities between Stonehenge, Souter Lighthouse and an old ruin that these three visited earlier. The primary usable features seem to be historic value, isolation and open spaces. We believe that perhaps one of the uses might be as apparition points. They are spread out over the entire country. By having the Death Eaters practice apparating around for a while, they would be able to go to any particular location in a hurry and have room and privacy to organize themselves once they got there."

"So how would, say, the Ministry of Magic or Buckingham Palace fit in with that theory?" asked Tonks. "They're roomy in spots but hardly isolated."

Honey looked to Ron for help and he obliged. "Not all of the places would be used for assembly areas. They might just be a point from one spot to another. There might very well be other reasons to visit them. We don't know. This is just a working theory, for now."

"It also ties in with what a cooperative prisoner has been telling me," said Harry. "He said, and our data corroborates, that it is new Death Eaters that take these tours. They go through the circuit once or twice with older Death Eaters and then lead a new recruit themselves. After that, they never do it again unless they need to go somewhere. That reminds me; Hermione has developed a counterspell to the one that Voldemort puts on his new Death Eaters. It makes them more reasonable and easier to deal with."

"What spell are you talking about?" asked Tonks. This had been a side project of the students and she wasn't involved or briefed on their findings.

"We found out the reason the Death Eaters are so unreasonably loyal," said Hermione. "Voldemort places them under a spell that makes him seem like the wisest person on earth. Everything he says or wants is brilliant and will bring good fortune to them if they obey. It doesn't work when they are in mortal peril, though. You probably saw how Krillian reacted to no air and falling from a great height. After a while it kicked back in. I found the spell in one of my books and was able to work out the counterspell. It makes them dizzy for a while but then you can reason with them."

"I'd like a demonstration, if you don't mind," said Tonks.

"Sure," said Hermione. "I planned on doing them all once we get back. We can do another before and after like we did with Krillian so you can see the difference." She made a note to remind herself.

"That would be great," said Tonks. "This could be big for the Ministry. We normally have to do the veritaserum route but that is fairly limited, as you know. We also have to get special permission to use it on a case by case basis. If we could get past that crazy "My master will reward my loyalty" mantra of theirs, interrogations would go much smoother." She looked pretty excited about this.

"Speaking of Death Eaters," said Ron, "we think that it is only a matter of time before Voldemort either removes the dark marks from them or at the very least, stops putting them on the new Death Eaters. If he did any analysis at all, he would realize that we can probably detect them that way."

"Do you really think he'd abandon the dark mark?" asked Remus. "That's been the trademark of the Death Eaters for decades."

"He might have no choice," replied Harry. "If he figures out that they're a liability, he'll drop them in a second. It's possible that he might just alter them. In any case, we should plan for when the current maps become useless and decide what we want to do before then."

Not surprisingly, Hermione had some ideas on this. "I would think that it should be easy to know if and when Voldemort stops using the dark mark. If we start seeing Death Eaters showing up on our maps with someone who is not a Death Eater, it would mean that the newcomer is not marked. When that happens, we should grab them both to examine the unmarked Death Eater to see if there are any other forms of control, identification or tracking being used."

"If they do have a new mark," said Remus, "we'd want to adapt to it as soon as possible. I think that we're more knowledgeable about that sort of thing than before so it shouldn't be a major problem, assuming, of course, that they use a mark at all."

"I think we might have other problems with the new mark," said Ron. When everyone was paying attention, he continued. "The original mark is used for identification and summoning them all to him. We know that he has also used it for tracking traitors such as Karkaroff and Draco. The tracking part wasn't very effective since he took months to find Karkaroff and even Draco was able to elude them for weeks by moving around. I think if he had to change the mark anyway, he would improve that feature."

"So you think we need another place to remove whatever new marks we find?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," said Ron, "and also to study them. If I were Voldemort, I'd probably figure this all out as well and just wait for us to capture a new Death Eater and track them back to wherever we take them."

Harry had an evil grin on his face. When he added an evil chuckle, Ron noticed.

"What have you got in mind," he asked, knowing that grin and beginning his own.

"Well," began Harry, "I happen to know of a place that would definitely not be around here and that it would be difficult for Voldemort or any of his Death Eaters to get to."

"Do I want to know?" asked Hermione, who also was able to recognize when her husband had a good one up his sleeve.

"The other Fortress of Solitude," he said. "I just need to check on a couple of things." Facing up a little, although he didn't know why, he asked, "Slider, could you come here for a moment?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider when he materialized next to Harry. "What can Slider be doing for Harry Potter?"

"Have a seat, Slider," said Harry. The elf was used to this informality from Harry by now and readily complied. "We were having a meeting discussing what we have discovered this weekend. When we got to some subjects that concerned elves, I realized that you should have been here all along. I'm sorry."

Receiving an apology was still new to Slider but he responded in the manner he had observed from wizards in similar situations and said, "That is quite alright, Harry Potter."

"Thank you," said Harry. "The topic we were just discussing concerned the new dark marks we expect Voldemort to start using. We'll need a place to study them that he won't be able to get to easily. I was wondering if the new room you built under the ice pack is fairly warm and dry."

"We is making the room dry, Harry Potter," said Slider, "but it is not being as warm as this room."

"Would it be safe to make it warm," asked Harry, "as least when someone was in it?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Slider. "We can be enchanting the room to being warm when it is being used by wizards."

"Wonderful," said Remus. "Slider, how big is the room? Would it be able to hold five or so wizards with a table and chairs?"

Slider looked around. "The room under the ice is being about the size of this room, Professor Lupin."

"That should be fine, "said Harry. Remus nodded. "Slider, could you see that a table and six chairs are placed in that room along with some parchment, ink and quills?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider, standing as if to leave.

"Please wait until the end of the meeting, Slider," asked Harry. "You should also know about the things we are discussing. Please comment if you have thoughts or suggestions on any of the subjects we bring up."

Slider was taken back by this. Elves seldom were included on meetings and were never asked for their opinions. "Slider will do as Harry Potter asks," he said, finally.

"How will we get to this place, Harry," asked Ron. "You said that eighteen hundred miles would probably be out of even your range."

"Elves or portkeys, I suppose," said Harry. He didn't know how hard it was to make portkeys but Dumbledore didn't seem to winded the one time he watched him make one.

"There might be a problem with this," said Remus. "I have been trying to think like Voldemort and Ron and think that if I knew that my Death Eaters were being tracked and went to the trouble of making a new dark mark, I would try to use it for more than guidance. I might set up a portkey to track a few of the new marks and then use that to get to any Death Eaters that turned up missing."

"That could be a problem," agreed Ron. "Portkeys aren't bothered by anti-apparition spells so they would come right into the room with us."

"What is available to prevent that from happening?" asked Harry.

"I haven't heard of any spells that can ward against portkeys," said Hermione. "How about you, Remus?"

"Nothing comes to mind," he replied. "I know the goblins can do it. Gringotts is safe from portkeys but I doubt that they would share that sort of information."

"No, but they might lend it," said Harry. "I bet they would shield it for us for a fee. It would still need to be accessible for at least the elves. Slider, can you check on this at Gringotts tomorrow? We need them to place an anti-portkey ward around the room under the ice that you and the other elves could still get through. We might also want to make it unplottable."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "I is asking the goblins when Gringotts is opening."

"It might be better to have Slider work with Bill on this," said Ron. "We want to be sure that Slider talks to the right people."

"That's a good idea, Ron," agreed Harry. "Slider, do you know Bill Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Bill Weasley is the wizard that is being hurt by the werewolf Greyback when the Death Eaters is entering Hogwarts."

"Great," said Harry. "Please talk to him tonight about this matter and then work with him on setting things up. He will probably know, but remind him that we wish this to remain as secret as possible."

"Slider will do as Harry Potter asks," said Slider.

"I suppose that we should move on to the meeting with Minister Scrimgeour on Tuesday," said Harry. "One topic we intend to discuss is the security at Azkaban. Our information indicates that Voldemort is picking up about a dozen new Death Eaters per week and we have identified about four hundred and fifty or so since we started keeping track. The number that we haven't picked up on our maps could be any amount but I don't think there are very many more since we monitor Diagon and Knockturn alleys. Most of these are newer names so I think he might want to get some of the old crew back."

"Do you have any ideas on how we can prevent that?" asked Remus.

"Well, I thought we could offer to take a few off of his hands," said Harry. "The old ones still use the regular dark mark and we know how to hide them. We might also be able to get some more information out of them from the time Voldemort first started hiding his horcruxes."

"Just a second," said Tonks. "Did you say you think Voldemort is picking up a dozen new Death Eaters in just one week?"

"Well, that's what Martha said," said Harry. "On average, that is. We can ask her for more specific numbers if you want."

"I think we had better," replied Tonks. "At that rate, they'll have twice as many Death Eaters as aurors by Christmas."

"He can't sustain that level of recruitment for long," said Remus. "There just aren't enough witches and wizards."

"What do you mean," asked Ron. "There must be thousands in England alone."

"There are, Ron," said Hermione. "That's not enough to support twelve a week going over to Voldemort. You live with magical people all the time so you think they're common. The truth is that being a witch or wizard is very rare. Look at our year at Hogwarts. When we were sorted, there were forty of us. If that's average, then the average population of the school should be around two hundred and eighty. We are currently at around four hundred and twenty so it must vary from year to year. Take five hundred as an upper end. Seven years worth of magical births are only five hundred people. Dumbledore was pretty old, even for a wizard, but he was only one hundred and fifty. I'll make it easy on myself and say one hundred and forty is the average age at death. Seven years is one twentieth of that. By multiplying five hundred times twenty we come up with an estimation of around ten thousand witches and wizards in England with any seven year span of ages being around five hundred."

Everyone stared at her with glazed over eyes.

"What?" she asked to the room at large.

"Right," said Harry, choosing not to comment. "I guess that twelve a week is unreasonable. The question then is how is he doing it?"

"I think you should grab a few from Diagon Alley and ask them," said Ron.

"Maybe this spell that Hermione discovered is the cause of this all," suggested Honey. She had not spoken since her original forced briefing but had built up enough confidence to risk another shot.

Harry recognized this and only delayed an extra half second to smile to himself before responding in a manner to encourage future participation. "That's a possibility, Honey. He might just be taking people that would ordinarily be likely candidates for recruitment and just hitting them with this spell to guarantee they join."

"They might not even have to be evil at all," said Hermione. "It could be as simple as grabbing people off the street, zap them with that spell and you've got your army."

"We can guess all we want," said Remus. "I think Ron has the right idea; grab a few from Diagon or Knockturn alley and try to find out from them why they joined."

"I'll get a few tomorrow," said Harry. He saw Hermione making a note, had a thought and laughed.

"What's so funny?" asked Tonks.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "I was just watching Hermione making a note and I couldn't help thinking of a shopping list. Pick up a dozen eggs, a gallon of milk, two loaves of bread and four Death Eaters."

They all laughed at this just as Mad-eye walked in the room. He looked around the room and then approached the table.

After a moment, he said, "It's a good thing I'm not the sensitive type. Usually, when someone enters a room and everyone stops laughing, it's you they were laughing at." His swivelling blue eye suddenly stopped while looking straight at Honey. Not being used to Mad-eye or his sense of humor, she turned white.

"We finished talking about you five minutes ago, Mad-eye," said Harry. He was used to the old auror and knew how to handle him. "Actually, we are done with discussing the one item we need to keep from everyone so please sit down and join us." He indicated a chair.

"I've got some time, I guess," replied Mad-eye. He sat down next to Remus. "So, what was the joke?" he asked as he pulled out his hip flask.

"I don't know if it would be funny without the last ten minutes of conversation, Mad-eye," said Remus. "The end was Hermione making out a shopping list for some household items and a few Death Eaters."

Mad-eye drank from his flask without a word. Putting it away, he said, "I guess you had to be here."

"Right," said Harry. "You're coming in on the tail end of the meeting, I'm afraid. Perhaps Remus or Tonks can fill you in later. We have to get back to school in a bit."

"I'm heading that way later, myself," said Moody. "I've got an appointment there this evening."

"This evening?" asked Harry. "Who with?"

"That's my business," said Mad-eye. "Nothing to do with the Order or you lot."

Hermione asked, "It wouldn't be at seven o'clock with Madam Pomfrey, would it?"

Mad-eye looked at her. "Er, ah, how did you know that?"

"Lucky guess," she said.

Mad-eye was caught dumbfounded, which was rare for him. "You've been here all weekend, right?" he asked.

"You met us when we got here," replied Harry. He wasn't going to give him any hints, either.

Moody sat there, thinking. "Did this elf tell you or something?" he asked, pointing at Slider.

"Tell us what?" asked Hermione. "You mean I guessed correctly? What a surprise." She smiled at him.

Moody thought some more before saying, "I can't think of how you figured that out. Care to let me in on the secret?"

Harry and Hermione both laughed. "Sorry, Mad-eye," said Harry. "I know all about the nightly appointments with Madam Pomfrey because I'm the one who puts the limbs back on people. She can't do it but I don't need any more publicity so we just act like it's her. You would have seen under my cloak anyway."

Mad-eye thought about that for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, I suppose you don't need another reason to have everyone trying to see you, do you? Good idea, though. Let's you help without the aggravation."

"Saved you a trip, at least," said Harry. "I'll do you right after the meeting. Don't worry; I'm getting the hang of it. I had one girl that went dancing the same night and she needed two legs."

"I won't hold my breath on that," said Mad-eye. "My dancing actually improved when I got the peg." Everyone laughed.

"I only have one more topic for this morning," said Harry. "It also concerns Scrimgeour. We have found that the elves follow wizard laws regulating their activities to the letter. There are a few letters we need to change. Hermione?" He looked at her expectantly.

"This is almost as secret as the other item we discussed," she began. "When Harry and Dobby went in to save Minerva, Dobby was able to attack Voldemort. Slider and Sleepy couldn't except under certain limiting circumstances. When we checked into this, Slider," she indicated the elf, "informed us that it was due to wizarding law. The law states that an elf may not attack a wizard except to defend his master or his house. Dobby was free so he was not subject to that law, in the opinion of the elves. Since then, and this is the top secret part, Slider and nine other brave elves have asked for and received clothes from McGonagall. This makes them free to aid in any attack we go on."

"That explains the cloak," said Moody. "I was wondering about that."

"Mistress Hermione is choosing how our cloaks is looking," said Slider. "She is saying that the color is hiding our blood."

"We're thinking of putting that on the recruitment poster," said Ron. "Join the Hogwarts Free Elves. They won't see you bleed."

"Anyway," said Hermione, in an annoyed voice, "I have written a few variations that should allow the free elves to apparate wizards without permission and to stun them on their own for capture. Would anyone like to hear them?" No one said a word or moved a muscle.

Hermione looked a little hurt but said, "Well, OK. We'll be trying to get Minister Scrimgeour to pass these revisions as quietly as possible when we talk to him on Tuesday."

"Which brings us to the end of the items that I wanted to cover at this meeting," said Harry. "Does anyone else have something to bring up?" He looked around the table. Everyone either indicated that they were done or sat quietly. "I guess we should have lunch, then, before those of us who are going back to Hogwarts head out. Mad-eye? Are you ready?"

"I've been ready since that idiot cut my leg off," he said with a grin.

Harry replaced Mad-eye's leg with one that looked remarkably spindly compared to the oaken stump he had before. He also put the large bit missing from his nose back so that he just looked like a jig-saw puzzle that had all the pieces.

"Thanks, Potter," said Mad-eye. "Pomfrey said something about a fee?" He reached back for his pouch.

"That's all right, Mad-eye," said Harry with a grin. "You deserve it. After all, you were one of my best professors." He knew that would get a rise out of Moody and wasn't disappointed.

"How many times do I have to say it?" he asked with great exasperation. "That wasn't me. I was in my bloody trunk all year. Every time I'm around a group of the right aged kids, they come up and ask me why I don't come back to teach and tell me how good I was." He took another sip from his flask and stormed off to the dinning room.

After lunch, they were sitting in the sitting room, digesting their dinner, when Harry had a thought. "Honey," he asked, "have you ever had training in occlumency?"

"Yes," she replied. "I never studied it to an advanced level but I have had some training in it."

"Now that you are in the inner circle, so to speak, perhaps you should study it with us," suggested Harry.

"That's probably a good idea," agreed Tonks. "You might be suspected of knowing something."

"Thanks," said Honey.

"I'm sorry," said Tonks. "I didn't mean it like that."

"That's alright," said Honey. "I knew what you meant."

"Do you have time to try your occlumency a bit so I can see where you are?" asked Tonks.

Honey looked a little nervous. "Well, I suppose so," she said. "Just don't spill what I'm thinking. OK?"

"Discretion is my middle name," said Tonks.

"Unfortunately, Lack-of is her first," said Remus, smiling.

"Very funny, Wolfy," said Tonks. Then to Honey, she said, "Are you ready?"

"I guess so," said Honey.

"Legilimens," said Tonks, waving her wand. She was locked into eye contact with Honey. Neither witch moved for about three minutes. Finally, Tonks released the connection.

"That was interesting," said Tonks. "Ron." Honey tensed up. "Can I do you again?"

Ron looked unsure. "I suppose so," he replied. "Why do you want to do me, again?"

"Curiosity," she replied. Sitting across from him she again said, "Legilimens." This time, she only held contact for about fifteen seconds.

"I thought so," said Tonks, triumphantly, after she put her wand away.

"What is it," said Ron and Honey together. They then simultaneously looked at each other and then back to Tonks.

"I won't say," said Tonks. "I will give you each a clue." Turning to Honey, she said, "Yes, he did." Facing Ron, she said, "Yes, she will."


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42 - Up North.

September 28th, 1997

Peter Pettigrew sat in the terminal of an airport in Norway. He would have liked to have known the name of the city except the people in this country seemed to like to put bulls-eyes in their words and he didn't know how to pronounce that particular symbol. He could relate to it, however. Just over a week ago, while waiting in their current headquarters in Little Haseley, the Dark Lord and Snape had returned unexpectedly from the safe house that they were using to interrogate McGonagall. Neither seemed pleased. That was strange since he had heard that everything had gone well. The muggles were dead. Potter was in Little Whinging, and they had captured McGonagall.

Wormtail had watched and listened while his Master interrogated Flinder. It turned out that despite the speed of the abductions, a matter of seconds at most, they had lost nine of the ten men sent. They weren't on the grounds of the school for twenty seconds before three wizards and a few elves had attacked them. Flinder had used McGonagall for cover and just made it to the forest and freedom in the nick of time. The others, apparently, had been lost. The Dark Lord looked fairly thoughtful (perhaps worried?) but said nothing to any of the rest of them.

Snape had used the time to retrieve something or other from his rooms and the two of them left again after about an hour. Snape returned alone just a minute or so after that. He was rushed and seemed to be muttering something about Bellatrix. He again went to his rooms and rushed out past the wards of the house carrying a small bag. About an hour or so later, Snape again returned alone. He busied himself gathering some Death Eaters together along with some medical supplies. Wormtail had gathered that Bellatrix had gone off on McGonagall and she was almost dead. Before they could return to the safe house, Voldemort himself came back, covered in dirt and debris, breathing hard as if he had just been in a fight. That is generally not a good sign.

Wormtail thanked his lucky stars that he was on the opposite side of the room. Like the other sycophants who were nearby, he had rushed to brush off his master and offer whatever assistance was required. Lingren was closest, however, and was rewarded by being crucioed. Voldemort must have been weakened because he didn't kill Lingren, although he still has a twitch in his leg from the damage. From the ranting that followed, he learned that Potter had shown up with an elf, destroyed the house, killed Bellatrix and recovered McGonagall. It only went downhill from there. The house had been warded against apparition by Voldemort, protected by the Fidelius Charm and made unplottable. Somehow, Potter had arrived just a few hours after the kidnaping and confronted his Master. It would seem that he thought a traitor was in their midst. Two of them were qualified for the position. Snape had betrayed Dumbledore and he, himself, had betrayed the elder Potters. The interrogation that followed still brought tears to his eyes when he thought about it. The Dark Lord had spent at least an hour, probing his innermost thoughts and recollections. His meetings with Halsfer were reviewed again and again. Finally, he had released him and started on Snape. That was at least entertaining to watch.

The really bad news, for Peter at least, came when Nott's body was found near Riddle Manor. McGonagall had revealed that he was captured almost immediately by Harry Potter and held captive in his hideout. The name of the place was the Fortress of Solitude although the Hogwarts Headmistress didn't have any idea of it's location. Nott had a few clues on him. One was a crude map showing the basic layout of the Fortress and a few notes about cold and ice led them to believe it was someplace very far to the north. He had apparently escaped and was heading back to the last place he had known of where the Dark Lord might be. A large tree had prevented him from discovering his mistake. Inquiries were made, of course, and last Friday a tantalizing clue had been uncovered.

In the early part of the century, some sort of a muggle hero who seemed to have probably been a wizard, had a secret hideout in the far north called the Fortress of Solitude. Many considered him myth, due to the outrageous claims that were made about his exploits. The Dark Lord, however, believed that the fact that McGonagall had given the same name and that Nott had come from that direction made further investigation into the place worthwhile. He had given Wormtail the charm to detect specific dark marks. They had chosen to use Monty Tracy as their target since he was on the team that captured McGonagall and was definitely hit by just a stunner according to Lingren's memory. He should still be alive and if Peter could get close enough, he should lead him right to this secret location.

So far, he had only had a few sporadic indications that Tracy was somewhere to the north. They had guessed that much from the ice and cold references. Now that he was in Norway, he had better luck. It still indicated almost due north but the signal was getting stronger. It was, however, still much weaker than it should have been. Where in the world was Potter's Fortress? He was on the trail, at least. The next stop was Svalbard. The broom flights to even this far north at this time of year helped for Wormtail to decide to take a muggle plane the six hundred miles to that frozen country. It was entirely possible that the Fortress of Solitude was there. The charm pointed directly at it. He would know soon enough; his flight would leave in one hour.

"So, is my aunt giving you any trouble?" asked Harry. He and Hermione were having an impromptu meeting with Poppy and Pomona Sprout. She happened to be in the hospital wing with Poppy when Harry and Hermione stopped by early that afternoon to let the nurse know she had a night off. Harry had fixed up Mad-eye in London.

"Not at all," replied the assistant headmistress. "In fact, she helped me clean out that small greenhouse on the end. I had been planning on doing that later this fall, anyway, since I only had two or three items growing in it. We just moved the last of it into Greenhouse Two and she was all set. She even agreed to let some of the students view how a muggle would set up a greenhouse after she has something to show." She smiled as she sipped her tea.

"That's great," said Hermione. "I know she seemed to be pretty excited about using a real greenhouse."

"She was," replied Pomona, "and that elf that brought her seemed eager, as well." Harry and Hermione had both suspected that Winky was interested in horticulture when she was able to provide Aunt Petunia with potted plants on short notice after they arrived. Now that they thought about it, they had noticed a distinct increase in the number of houseplants in Number 14 Grimmauld Place since Winky had taken charge. They assumed that Slinky would be instructed in their care.

"Aunt Petunia should be satisfied for awhile," said Harry. "Uncle Vernon, however, might take a little doing. He's been fishing the streams around here but he really wants to find a golf course. It turns out that you need to make a reservation of some type before you can play. Remus said that he would check into that. In the meantime, we need to decide how to provide for his security. An elf would be ideal but I don't think it would be right to take one away from their duties for the amount of time we're talking about."

"We should have plenty to spare," said Sprout, quickly. Then, after a moments reflection, she said, "If we take into account the ones that are already working for you, I'm not really that sure. Perhaps you should discuss this with Slider."

"What can Slider be doing for Mistress Sprout?" asked the Head Elf, predictably.

Pomona Sprout was basically a gardener. She had tilled her own rows all of her life. She had usually done so with a real hoe and would not resort to magic if she didn't need to. By virtue of being assistant headmistress, though, she found that she was on a different list than in the past as far as the elves were concerned. Any mention of an elf would draw a near instantaneous response. She had not grown as used to this as Minerva.

"I'm terribly sorry, Hermione," said Pomona, wiping the tea off the front of Hermione's blouse with her handkerchief.

"That's quite alright, Professor," said Hermione, drawing her wand and removing the tea and stain with one well chosen spell. She smiled as she remembered a time when she, Harry and Ron were dealing with the older witch's handiwork and she had to be reminded that she was a witch. Apparently, their handkerchief wielding Herbology Professor sometimes had the same problem.

"I'm actually the one with the question, Slider," said Harry. "My uncle is interested in pursuing an activity that is, in fairness, slightly more of a sport than the one he is engaged in at the present. Would you know if any of the house-elves are familiar with the game of golf and if they would be available to accompany him on a fairly regular basis?"

"Slider is knowing most of the house-elves all of their lives, Harry Potter," said the Head Elf. "We is all hearing about this muggle game but no elf is playing it while Slider is being Head Elf. Slider can be checking with a house-elf that he is not sure about if Harry Potter wishes."

"Could you, please?" replied Harry. "If none are trained, then I would need to know if any of the house-elves are available. I doubt that any of you are just standing around, in the way. Hopefully, someone will have time to get out and learn the game."

Slider's eyes lit up. "This is being great news, Harry Potter," he said with delight. "The elf Slider is wishing to check with is one that is not working with the other elves and is in the way, just as Harry Potter is saying."

"I don't think I've ever met a house-elf that matched that description, Slider," said Harry. "Is he really old or something?"

"No, Harry Potter," said Slider. "He is already Harry Potter's elf so Harry Potter can make him be playing golf without asking anyone." Slider seemed to be exceptionally pleased at the possibility.

"Already my ...," said Harry, coming to the one and only conclusion on the identity of the elf. "Oh, no. You don't mean Kreacher, do you?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Kreacher is just the elf you is looking for."

With so many utterances of his name, even the surly Kreacher had to come see if he could be of use.

"Kreacher is here, Master," he said sulkily, and then, under his breath, muttered, "Master is seeking Kreacher after many months of silence. Kreacher is wondering why."

"I'll tell you why, Kreacher," said Harry after having a sudden insight. "I am going to make you deliriously happy. You will be getting out of the kitchens and playing a game all day. You will be doing this with someone who hates me as much as you do. The two of you will be able to compare notes and decide who hates me the most and I won't care at all."

This speech left everyone in the room, including Kreacher, speechless. Harry had waited for some sort of a reply, but since there didn't seem to be one coming, he continued. "Kreacher, starting tomorrow, you will be enchanted to look like a muggle man. You will take my uncle to whatever golf courses he might request and then you will protect him from harm and assist him in any way he requests. I don't know if he will need you to play with him or just help with the equipment but you will obey his orders regarding whatever he decides. When he is finished with his game and on his orders, you will return him to a place we will show you. It is his home and you will respond to his calls as well as mine or Hermione's. You will not reveal or cause to be revealed the location of his home or anything about me or this school or anyone or anything related to my whereabouts or activities to anyone besides him unless I give you specific permission to do so. You will do as my uncle says as long as those conditions are met. He might want to do this every day. You will accompany him whenever he desires."

"Master wants Kreacher to play games with Master's worst enemy?" asked Kreacher, perplexed.

"Basically," agreed Harry. "I'm not sure that he's my worst enemy but he could give Voldemort some competition. I'll introduce you tomorrow and the two of you can be off having fun."

A thoroughly confused Kreacher bowed and popped away.

Slider, now used to the idea, at least, of offering his opinion when required, said, "Is Harry Potter being sure that Kreacher will be good at protecting Harry Potter's uncle? Slider is thinking that maybe another elf is being better."

"They'll be perfect for each other, Slider," said Harry, smiling. "They both like to complain so they should get along just fine." He turned to the group in general. "Do any of you have any idea how much the equipment for golf costs or how much you are charged to use the course?" No one seemed to have a clue. Shrugging, Harry said, "I'll give Uncle Vernon ten thousand pounds to start. Hopefully, that will be enough for a while."

Wormtail was in the capital city of Svalbard, a lovely town called Longyearbyen. Despite wearing a heavy parka, he was freezing. The natives, however, were walking around in just heavy flannel shirts. By a cruel twist of fate and timing, he realized that the autumnal equinox had just passed and the days would become shorter. If their information was totally accurate, and he now suspected that it might be, the one landmark that was known to be near the Fortress of Solitude, the North Pole, was already deep within it's permanent winter darkness. The charm still indicated that he should be heading north. In just a few weeks, this country would also be in perpetual gloom for months. Somewhere between here and the North Pole, Potter had established his headquarters. If he didn't find it soon, he probably wouldn't get another chance until spring. The Dark Lord didn't seem like he wanted to wait that long. With some misgivings, he approached a building that indicated, with signs in several languages, that it housed a guide service.

"God dag. Hva kan jeg hjelpe deg med?" said the young man sitting at a rustic desk.

"Bloody hell," replied Wormtail.

September 29th, 1997

Vernon Dursley watched impatiently as his wife performed an operation that he had witnessed hundreds of times during their marriage; washing the windows. It this case, however, it might just take her the rest of the day. They were in the greenhouse assigned to her and she wanted to take the opportunity to thoroughly wash and clean the entire building while she still had clear access to everywhere. Once she started to fill it's shelves and floor space, reaching into all of the nooks and crannies would become much more difficult. She didn't mind, however. This might be one of the smallest greenhouses at this school but the fifteen by thirty foot building was about to be transformed into her own personal heaven. Even as she washed away the cobwebs, she saw rows of flowers (both annuals and perennials), herbs, vines, bushes, vegetables and fruit trees blossoming before the eyes of her imagination. Beside her, working just as tirelessly, was Winky. Petunia had asked her to pick her up first thing in the morning and bring her and some cleaning supplies to the greenhouse. She hadn't realized exactly what "first thing in the morning" meant to a house-elf but she was anxious to get started so she didn't complain.

Complaining was Vernon's department. He didn't want to get up at five o'clock but the arrangements had been made for him to meet with his nephew here around seven o'clock. He knew from experience that his wife was sometimes taken to a different plane when cleaning and he didn't want to risk Winky being taken right along with her and forgetting to come and get him. The elf had been nice enough to bring along one of their oversized stuffed chairs so he was able to relax while Petunia rubbed the glazing off of the panes.

At five minutes to seven, Harry and Hermione popped into the greenhouse. Looking around, Hermione noticed the difference between the regular dirty panes and the freshly scrubbed ones. "Wow!" she said, astounded at the difference. "I see you aren't wasting any time in getting this place in shape, Mrs. Dursley."

Petunia smiled at the compliment and said, "Winky is certainly doing her share. Please call me either Petunia or Aunt Petunia. I believe either is appropriate."

Hermione said, "I have never heard Harry refer to the two of you as anything other than aunt or uncle so I will do the same for the sake of consistency." Looking around a bit, she asked, "Have you decided on the plants you wish to start first?"

"I have a few ideas," said Petunia, putting down her gloves and picking up a notepad. She started to go over the two pages of notes with Hermione. This was Harry's cue to speak to Uncle Vernon.

"We've found a golf club that has a shop where you should be able to buy new equipment, Uncle Vernon," he said, hoping his uncle wouldn't start anything. "It is called the Moray Golf Club. There's a restaurant and everything so you should be set for the day. I would imagine that you could get some tips on other places to play while you are there."

"How am I to get there and back," asked Vernon. He wasn't exactly trying to be polite but he didn't want to blow his chance at doing something besides fish.

"I have an assistant for you," said Harry. "Kreacher. Come here, please."

About two seconds later, Kreacher popped into view. "Master calls Kreacher?" he asked. "Is Kreacher to meet the wizard that hates master as much as Kreacher?"

"Yes," said Harry, ignoring the reference. "He is not a wizard, though. He is a muggle. Kreacher, meet Mr. Vernon Dursley, my uncle. Uncle Vernon, this is Kreacher." Neither made the slightest move to shake hands but simply stared at each other. "Well, I suppose you will grow on each other." He turned to the other group and called, "Hermione. Could you cast the spell on Kreacher, please?"

Hermione walked over followed by the other females and looked at Kreacher. "What did you have in mind?" she asked Harry.

"I was thinking something along the lines of Remus. About the same age as Uncle Vernon but who could pass as either a friend or assistant," replied Harry.

Hermione thought a moment and waved her wand while muttering an incantation. Harry and Hermione noticed nothing but Vernon and Petunia both moved their eyes to a point higher than Kreacher's head. They now saw a five foot, eight inch tall man in his early forties with brown hair and a mustache. He stilled looked surly but in a more normal way.

"Does he look normal?" asked Hermione. She hadn't done this particular spell before and since she couldn't see the results, had to ask.

"Can't you see him?" asked Petunia. She had noticed, even if Vernon had not, that they had not shifted their eyes to where she saw Kreacher's face.

"He looks just like before to us," said Hermione. "It is the same sort of spell that is on the castle. Only muggles are affected by it."

"Well, it seems to work," said Vernon, surprisingly acknowledging the utility of magic instead of complaining of it's existence. "The only thing we need now is a way to pay for all of this. Those coins you use won't work in the real world, will they?"

Harry ignored the term "real world" and replied to the problem. "I had Winky exchange some of my money at the wizard's bank," said Harry. He handed over a large envelope. "This is ten thousand pounds. Is that enough to buy new equipment?" He waited expectantly.

Uncle Vernon was dumbstruck. Where did his nephew get that kind of money? Of course, greed and a desire to be off took over and he said, "That should be enough for a while. It depends on if Kreacher needs clubs, too."

"It will be up to you whether or not you wish to play with him or just have him guard you," said Harry. "If it turns out that you both need new clubs, just let either me or Winky know and she will get you some more money."

"That will be fine, then," said Vernon, pocketing the money. "Let's get going, Kreacher." He reached out his hand.

"Where is Kreacher and Master's Uncle going?" asked the elf. He did not take Vernon's hand, yet.

"Winky has written the directions down in house-elf language," said Hermione, handing Kreacher a note. "We are working on the same for several courses but this was the nearest one with an equipment shop so we decided to start there."

Kreacher, now devoid of an excuse, grabbed Vernon's hand and popped the two of them away.

Odd Jonsen had no real desire to be flying so far north at this time of year. He had been quite prepared to ride out the winter when Peter had shown up at his office. There had been a bit of a communication problem until Odd's wife, Lena was called. She could speak English. This Peter Pettigrew seemed to be desperate to get quite a ways to the north. Odd had told him that the trip was too dangerous and he wouldn't attempt it for any amount of money. He changed his mind when Pettigrew produced a wad of thousand pound notes that could choke a polar bear.

He and Wormtail were flying north over the arctic pack ice. They left just after sunrise and had been flying almost due north for three hours. The snow chopper was properly equipped for this sort of service but the experienced pilot knew when to leave it and use more traditional means of travel.

"Vi blir nødt til å stoppe her, og fortsette på snøscootere," said the guide.

Wormtail hoped that he hadn't said, "It is too cold. We will crash soon and all die."

"We will have to use the motor sleds, now," translated Lena. She had decided to come along to interpret for her husband. She started to prepare the heavy coats and boots for the departure from the helicopter.

Wormtail knew that they were getting closer. The charm was locked on to Tracy's dark mark, now. While he had no means of detecting the distance they had to go, the direction was changing fairly noticeably when they veered off course. He estimated they were within one hundred miles of the Fortress of Solitude. It was at this point that he had to make a decision. His life might depend on it being the right one. If they got too close to Potter and tipped him off that his hideout was known, he could move, increase the fortifications or choose any number of other options. If he decided they were close enough for an assault and it turned out they were still a couple of hundred miles away, the assault team would freeze before they could attack.

"How far away from the pole are we?" he asked. He might just pull the plug now and hope for the best.

Lena consulted an instrument on the wall. We are at 86 degrees latitude. That should be about 400 kilometers from the nord pole."

Peter knew a kilometer was a little more than a half mile so that meant they were around 200 miles from the pole and probably closer to the Fortress. He nodded and they went on.

A short time later, Odd found a sheltered spot behind an ice ridge and set his helicopter down. He activated the homing signal so he could find it again and they loaded the snowmobiles. Peter had a hard time even moving in his thick parka but Odd and Lena didn't need his help. Soon, they were off again. This time, however, there was no heater to keep the Englishman warm. He did have his wand, though, so he wouldn't freeze. He was fortunate that the snowmobile was easier to drive than a car. Turn a key and twist the handle. Even a rat could handle that.

"Harry Potter," said Slider. He had popped into the Fortress of Solitude's office shortly after eleven o'clock. Harry, Ron and Hermione had just stopped into their office. Ron hoped to get out quickly and meet Honey for lunch. Harry and Ron were done for the day but Hermione, of course, had two classes that afternoon. Tomorrow would be different since they had an appointment with the Minister of Magic.

"Hello, Slider," said Harry. "What can we do for you?"

"Slider is talking to Bill Weasley like Harry Potter is asking," said the elf. "He is talking again just now and Master Bill is saying that he is making arrangements for Harry Potter to see Ragnok. He is calling when he is ready."

"That's great, Slider," said Harry. "Thank you for taking care of that for us."

Slider bowed and popped out.

"I want to take care of the portkey wards on the icebox as soon as possible," said Ron. "I have a feeling that we'll need it to be safe sooner rather than later."

"What makes you think that, Ron?" asked Hermione. She also wanted to get things moving but didn't know why Ron was in such a hurry.

"Voldemort is grabbing everyone he can get his hands on," said Ron. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday and if, as we suspect, he is just hitting everyone with that loyalty spell, he must know that it will only be a matter of time before either we, the Order or the Ministry figures out what he is doing and attempts to stop him. Whatever he has planned, it will happen soon."

Harry thought about this. If their estimates were correct about there being approximately ten thousand witches and wizards in Great Britain, and Voldemort already had about four hundred and fifty Death Eaters with a dozen new added per week, he would have a major advantage in any war. If you limit the magical folk who would be available to resist to those over seventeen and under one hundred, it got even worse. Ron was right; something would happen soon.

"Do you have any ideas on what would be his primary objectives with so many Death Eaters at his disposal?" asked Harry.

"Whatever it is," said Hermione, "it will just be the one time." She had also been thinking, of course, and had come to a conclusion that was neither strategic nor tactical, but realistic.

"I agree," said Ron, "but, just for the sake of argument, on what do you base your conclusions?" He waited for her answer, a smirk threatening to form on his face as he hoped he could, after six years of trying, finally get to successfully refute something she said.

'Well," began Hermione, up to the challenge, "from what we have been able to gather, no additional training has been going on in the new Death Eater ranks. They know what they know and only pick up anything new from those around them. Besides the apparition exercises, they just wait around and do what they're told. The loyalty spell limits their resourcefulness and fails completely if they are about to die. They will be used for a single major attack and then will probably not be necessary any more."

"What major attack are you thinking about?" asked Ron. He couldn't believe that she had come to basically the same conclusion that he had and wanted to see if the unavoidable conclusion was also the same. It was.

"Azkaban," said Hermione, flatly. "He picked up the willing followers from our generation during the last couple of years. All of his best veteran Death Eaters, however, have remained in Azkaban. I was wondering why he has been waiting for so long before attempting a breakout until we started discussing the turning of the dementors last year. Now it all makes sense."

"I agree," said Ron, "except I haven't made any sense out of the delay, yet. Could you let me in on that?"

"Sure, Ron," said Hermione. "Dementors damage their prisoners but don't really want to kill them. They need them for nourishment of their souls. When the dementors left Azkaban, the prisoners were taken care of by regular witches and wizards. Since our side are the good guys, they would have sought treatment for their prisoners and tried to get them back to normal."

"So Voldemort waited for the Ministry to do his work for him and now he plans to come get his cured and healthy, truly loyal Death Eaters," summed up Harry.

"Exactly," replied Ron, "and if his artificially loyal, but numerous temporary Death Eaters are killed in the process, he won't care."

They all sat quietly for a moment, thinking about this. They were disturbed a moment later when Martha came in and sat down.

"Hello, Boss," she said as she laid a couple of parchments on the table in front of Harry. "Here is the information you asked for and also some that you might want to see."

Harry picked up the first parchment. It had the name of each of the maps on it followed by a number. The title informed him that it was the best guess estimate of the number of times per day that Death Eaters had appeared at the site for just a second. Most were in the three or four times range but a few were as high as eight.

Martha saw which sheet he had picked up and supplemented it by saying, "We are also keeping an exact count per day on each map's report, now. It should give a more accurate view of any particular site. We will have a special monthly chart that will show both the times and dates of each official visit as well as the times and dates of these drop-ins."

"Excellent work, Martha," said Harry. He put down the first parchment and went to the next. It was a list of the new Death Eaters with the date of their first appearance on the maps. They were listed in order of discovery. "This is also just what we need," he said, showing the sheet to Ron and Hermione. "We were discussing the increase in recruitment over the weekend and were wondering how Voldemort could keep it up to such a high level. Now we'll know who to grab to find out why they..." He stopped, gaping at one of the names. "Oliver Wood?" he said in shock.

"Never!" said Ron, also staring at the name. It was their old quidditch captain. At least it was Harry's captain but Ron didn't worry about the distinction. "Oliver Wood, a Death Eater?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "It must be as we suspected. Voldemort isn't worrying about recruiting new Death Eaters. He is just grabbing anyone within reach." Turning to Harry, she said, "We need to get Wood and hit him with my spell. I want to see what he has to say."

Harry scanned the rest of the list. He saw a name or two he thought he recognized but none that he knew personally. "Martha," he said, turning towards her. "Put Oliver Wood on the primary list. I want him as soon as possible. He is fairly new so he should be on the tour tonight."

Martha made a note and started to get up. Harry stopped her.

"Martha," he said. "This extra list you decided to make on your own is a great help. If you have any other ideas, please let us know." He wrote a short note on a piece of parchment and said, "Winky."

"Yes, Master," said Winky when she appeared a few seconds later. She was holding a cleaning rag and had a scarf around her head.

"Please take this note to Gringott's and give the gold they give you to Martha," instructed Harry.

"Yes, Master," said Winky and popped off.

"What gold is this?" asked Martha. She was surprised at the suddenness of his actions.

"Your bonus," replied Harry. "The information from last week about the other uses for the sites, the alphabetical listing of the Death Eaters in that address book and now this list of their first appearance will greatly help out our investigations. I want you to know that I appreciate your being on the ball. Winky is bringing you a five hundred galleon bonus as a way of saying thanks. Also, I think you should probably be in on our staff meetings from now on. You have the best sense of the day to day movements of the Death Eaters and would probably have some good ideas."

Martha was stunned. "You're being too good to me, Harry," she said, smiling. "I won't be able to go back to my old job after all of this. The biggest bonus I ever got was ten galleons for not missing a day of work in six months. The biggest decision I ever got to make was the number of quills to order. I can't tell you what it means to me for you to show such faith in me." She looked like she was on the verge of happy tears.

"Don't worry about your old job," said Harry. "When we destroy Voldemort, you'll be able to buy your own shop with that bonus."

"By the way, Martha," said Hermione, "we also suspect that the newest Death Eaters won't have the same dark mark. If you start picking up some that seem to be by themselves in places that usually had a pair or are with someone that isn't in red, let us know about it."

"Will do, Hermione." Martha got up and went back to her office. Harry watched as she wrote Wood's name on a large placard on the wall. It listed all of the names that were intended for immediate notification if seen. She then started to go around to the elves, probably to give them Hermione's instructions.

"If we do find that a lot of the new Death Eaters are just ordinary people like Wood," asked Ron, "what do we do with them?"

"We fix them, of course," said Hermione. Then, thinking on the problem further, she added, "After that, I don't know. Can we just release them?"

"We don't have a way to tell if they chose to join up or were chosen," said Ron. "It might be a problem. In any case, they'll need to have their arms replaced."

"We can tell if it was their idea," said Harry. "Luna can tell. If she agrees, she'll have to interview them all."

"I'm sure she won't mind if we think most of them are good people and we can release them," said Hermione.

"We can't release them," said Ron, "at least not right away." At the looks he was getting from Harry and Hermione, he continued. "Until Voldemort has decided that we can detect the dark marks and has started using an alternate version of it, we can't tip our hand and have people he already marked suddenly walking around without the mark. He would stop suspecting and just know. It would also give away Madam Ponfrey's secret if they studied one of them closely. I'm not sure we can ever release them until it's all over."

"These are innocent people, Ron," said Hermione. "We can't just lock them up because they were forced to join Voldemort."

"We might have to," said Harry, understanding Ron's logic. "They won't need to be locked up like the Death Eaters, but they can't be seen. I think we can make some pretty nice dormitories on the other side of the snake door now that we can put all of the Death Eaters on this side." The spacial distortion spell was going to come in very handy.

"Harry?" It was Martha. She had opened the door between the offices and signaled for him to come over.

"What is it, Martha?" he asked, rising from his chair. Ron and Hermione followed.

"Oliver Wood is in the Shetland Isles, near Mousa Broch."

They had come close enough. Wormtail was watching his charmed dark mark indicator. It was changing slowly but observably as they headed due north. They must be within a few miles of the Fortress of Solitude. He was not prepared to get any closer. Raising his hand, he signaled his guides to stop.

After they had all stopped and gathered around him, he said, (shouted actually to be heard over the howling of the wind), "This is as far as we need to go. Give me a few seconds alone and we can start back." Odd and Lena had decided that their client's wealth made his purpose for this trip none of their business so they just got back on their sleds and moved off about a hundred yards or so and waited.

Wormtail reached into his parka and then into his robes and pulled out a pulsating golden sphere that his Master had given him. It was a powerful magical beacon that could only be detected by it's brother that the Dark Lord himself possessed. It had an extremely long range, though, and would lead a team of Death Eaters back by portkey when the time was right. Wormtail reductoed a small hole in the ice and placed the orb into it. He then covered it with some snow and got back on his sled. His orders were to kill anyone involved in his mission but Odd and Lena were the only guides he noticed in Longyearbyen. He might obliviate them, instead. If his Master was displeased, he could return and finish the job.

Oliver Wood was walking along the cliff tops near Mousa Broch, an ancient tower on a deserted island. His new friend, Kevin Longshadow, was showing the area to him. This was Oliver's third trip with his new friends. Each was important and his Master was wise and generous in letting him go. They had stopped along the way for a few seconds in several other spots but they were not his objective and therefore not important, at least for now. He was told that he would soon know all of these spots and would then train others to find them. The brilliance of his master was awe inspiring.

He wandered around, doing as he was instructed and committing the whole area to memory. In the distance, he saw two men and a woman come into existence. Several smaller people were with them, perhaps children, dressed in red. He turned to signal the new arrivals to Kevin when he saw one of the red cloaked children appear by him. Kevin, too, had company. Before he could draw his wand, he knew no more.

Peter Pettigrew was alone in his room at the Rica Spitsbergen Hotel. It was fortunate that they allowed pets. He removed a large boot from his suit case and set it on the table. With a flick of his wand, he transformed the boot back into an owl. He originally had two boots, of course. They were both sent from this hotel. The first carried the information that the Fortress of Solitude had not been found but must be even further north than Svalbard. He sent that owl as a precaution in the event that something went wrong on the flight he had arranged for this morning. This second owl would inform his Master that everything went well and the homing charm was placed. He had already missed the one flight out of Svalbard and would have to wait to return to the European mainland until tomorrow. After that, several hours of broom time before he would even sight Great Britain. With any luck at all, his master will launch a strike against Potter before he can return to participate. It wasn't that he was afraid of Harry Potter. Well, actually, it was.

"That is so cool," said Ron. "I wish Honey could see this." He was looking through the glass walls of the under-the-ice-pack chamber built by the elves to store their collection of Death Eater arms. It was now just after noon and the low-level rays of the sun were illuminating the relatively thin layer of ice that covered the Arctic Ocean to the south. This view would be unavailable in just two days but it was quite spectacular. The clear room was suspended just a few feet over the perfectly smooth surface of the water, attached to the ice overhead by huge, enchanted chains.

Normally, Harry and Hermione would dismiss such a suggestion out of hand. The fact that they, too, were mesmerized by the unique view gave Harry the urge to treat his friend. The macabre collection of arms stacked against the far wall notwithstanding, this was a sight worth seeing. Harry looked at his watch. It was just a quarter past twelve. Afternoon classes didn't start for another forty-five minutes.

"Slider," he said. "We may need assistance with the interrogation of these prisoners. Could you please ask Professor Sweetwater, Headmistress McGonagall and Martha Murphy to join us here?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said the red robed, head elf and, summoning two other free elves to accompany him, popped away. The elves had not yet enchanted the room to automatically heat up when occupied by wizards but the requested table and chairs were delivered late last night. A few warming charms would make the room temporarily cozy enough to discuss the new prisoners.

"Thanks, Harry," said Ron. He positioned the chairs around the table so they all had a view to the south. Oliver Wood and Kevin Longshadow lay unconscious on mats placed on the floor next to the boxes of arms. The two remaining elves guarded them. Harry and Ron had held onto the new prisoners while the elves had apparated the group to the northernmost Fortress of Solitude.

"Are you able to tell if they have additional marks or enchantments placed on them?" asked Hermione. She had already removed the regular dark marks and placed them with the others. Harry had taken on faith that Wood was no Death Eater and had already replaced his arm. He didn't know about the other man and had left him as is.

Harry walked over next to the two men, stooping down and eventually placing his hands on them. "I don't sense anything." Turning to Sleepy, he asked, "Sleepy, do you detect any sort of a magical signal coming from either of these two men?"

Sleepy performed a similar test as Harry and then stopped. She turned to the southeast and stared into the ice. "Sleepy isn't feeling anything with these wizards but Sleepy is thinking there is being something about a half of a wizards pop that way." She pointed her finger in the direction she was facing.

"What is it?" asked Hermione. She was looking in the same direction but had no hope of seeing anything, of course.

"Sleepy isn't knowing that, Mistress Hermione," replied Sleepy. "Sleepy is thinking it is magical but Sleepy is almost not feeling it."

"Are there any wizards or witches nearby?" asked Ron.

"No, Master Ron," replied Sleepy.

"Is it moving at all, Sleepy," asked Harry, "or near anything?"

"No, Harry Potter," answered Sleepy. "It is not being near anything or anyone and it is not moving."

Before they could think of any further questions, an elvish apparition pop startled them and Martha appeared with one of the elves.

She looked around and, instead of a greeting, she asked, "Where in the bloody hell are we?" She gaped out the sides of the room and was dumbstruck. Before she could regain her composure, Minerva and Honey had joined them with the other two elves.

The two professors joined Martha in peering into the seemingly limitless depths of what appeared to be an enormous ice cave. It was lit in only the one direction so they focused their attention that way. Ron joined Honey and offered her a chair. They sat arm in arm and enjoyed each other's company. Harry offered Minerva and Martha chairs as well and the group allowed themselves five minutes of wonder.

Eventually, Minerva said, "I appreciate the view, Harry. I suspect, however, that you had other reasons for bringing us here?" She looked at him, waiting for an answer.

"At the time, nothing that couldn't wait," he replied, honestly. "We have discovered something in the last few minutes that might require greater minds than ours." At McGonagall's curious glance at Hermione, Harry amended, "I meant greater minds that Ron and me."

"I see," said Minerva. "Well, we have thirty minutes until afternoon classes so let's get cracking."

"Well," began Harry, "the original reason we came here was to examine the latest Death Eaters we captured." He indicated the two wizards on the floor.

McGonagall looked over and then jumped to her feet. "Why, that's Wood!" she shouted. She rushed over to confirm her identification. Looking at Harry and then back to Wood, she asked, "Are you sure he's a Death Eater?" She clearly couldn't believe it any more than Harry.

"He had the dark mark," answered Harry. "We were discussing this whole situation last night. According to Martha, and she has the data to back it up, Voldemort is gaining a dozen new Death Eaters per week. We were guessing that he might just be grabbing anyone in reach and enchanting them to join up. I think that Wood proves that. Hermione discovered the counterspell to that enchantment so we can reverse the damage. We already removed Oliver's arm that had the dark mark and replaced it. We brought him and his friend up here because we wanted to check for any new types of dark marks when Sleepy detected something else about fifty miles to the southeast. That happened just before you arrived."

"I've got to start making more staff meetings," said McGonagall, holding her head. "Give me a second." She paused and thought about what Harry had told her. "OK. I think I've got everything except why we are here. This is the room at the North Pole, isn't it?" She thought it must be but wanted to make sure.

"Close enough," said Hermione. "We're about one hundred and thirty miles away from the North Pole. We figure that Voldemort will have to stop using the current dark mark and create a new one. When that happens, we don't want him to use a captured Death Eater to pop into the real Fortress of Solitude. We'll bring them here and check for a new charm before taking them back to the regular cells."

"Won't it be just as bad if he finds you here?" asked Minerva.

"We're working on that," said Hermione. "Ron's brother Bill is making arrangements with the goblins to ward this place from portkeys. Our elves can make it safe from apparition. We have a map on this place already so they would be coming in cold and detected. It would take them quite a while to dig down to this room. By that time, we could get everyone organized and attack."

"I see," said Minerva. "It seems you have everything under control."

"Except that thing Sleepy detected," countered Martha. She was used to keeping track of twenty odd elves and their activities so a group this small was a piece of cake.

"Oh, yeah," said Harry. "We need to check that out. Sleepy. Could you take me to that whatever-it-is?" He looked at her expectantly.

"Yes, Harry Potter," she said and held out her hand. Without thinking, Harry took it and they were off.

Approximately three-tenths of a second later, Harry was shouting, "Take us back!" at the elf. He hoped that his voice could be heard over the screaming of the wind. Even just after noon, the autumn climate near the North Pole was chillingly refreshing.

"Mother of God!" he exclaimed, upon arriving back with his friends. His glasses were already frosted over and he was shivering uncontrollably.

"In today's lesson," said Honey, glad to finally have the opportunity to return to Harry some of the grief that he had so cheerfully doled out to her over the weekend, "we have discovered that it is cold at the North Pole."

"Thanks, Honey," said Harry as Hermione defrosted him with some warming charms. "Bloody hell. You'd be dead in thirty seconds up here without proper clothing."

"Actually," corrected Hermione, "you'd take about three to four minutes to die. You would just pray for death after thirty seconds."

"Do we dare bring this thing here?" asked Ron. "If it is something to do with Voldemort, we need to know but I don't want him using our own stupidity against us, either."

"I'd rather look at it where it is," said Hermione, "but I don't know of any spells that would protect us from that kind of weather. We'd need really top shelf arctic survival gear for even a few minutes."

"Ron and I have the afternoon off," said Harry. "Maybe we could find some parkas."

"Excuse me, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Slider is able to be keeping the wind and cold away from a small area for a short time. Slider can take Harry Potter to see source of magic without Harry Potter getting hurt from cold."

"Really?" asked Harry. "That would be great, Slider." Looking around, he asked, "would it be possible for us all to go? It's hard to say who would know what this thing is."

"Slider can only make warm space for Harry Potter," said Slider. "Other elves would have to be taking other wizards and witches."

"I think that would be alright," said Harry. "What do the rest of you think?"

McGonagall looked at her watch. Twenty minutes until one o'clock. "I think we can take a quick look now to determine if it is dangerous, Harry," she said. "It might not even have anything to do with you or this place."

Ron looked unconvinced. "A magical item within fifty miles of here? It has to be related. Why would anyone come up this far north in the first place if they weren't looking for the Fortress of Solitude Annex?"

"Well, let's go find out," said Harry. "Slider, could you coordinate the elves and wizards and witches, please? Make sure everyone is protected."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider, glad to be allowed the opportunity to arrange this particular trip. If an inexperienced wizard tried to give specific orders, the chances of a catastrophe were high. Best to leave it in the hands of the experts. He summoned the other elves over and gave their assignments. One was to be left to guard the still unconscious Wood and Longshadow. In just a little over a minute, he signaled to Harry that he was ready.

"Please be giving the elf next to you permission to be popping you," said Slider to all the non-elves in the room. They complied and with a mass pop, they found themselves on top of the ice pack, at the location Sleepy had already identified and visited. The elves had each raised their hands and were muttering some sort of a spell. It was the first time any of them had seen an elf work at performing magic. Of course, this was pretty spectacular magic. A sort of merged collection of bubbles, but not bubbles, surrounded the group. It kept out the howling wind and the air inside was a fairly comfortable temperature.

Hermione noticed the difficulty the elves were having maintaining this level of protection and suggested they move on.

Harry didn't have to search for long. With his enhanced abilities, and at such a close range, he was able to find the orb in a matter of seconds. A summoning charm brought it through the loose ice that Wormtail had placed over it just this morning. He allowed it to fall to the surface of the ice without touching it. Everyone peered intently at the golden orb.

McGonagall and Hermione both waved their wands over the magically pulsing ball. Harry noticed that the wand movements occasionally matched. Within a minute or so, they both stopped and looked at each other for confirmation.

"Portkey target?" asked Hermione of her headmistress.

Smiling, Minerva said, "Of course, Hermione. Highly powerful and narrowly focused, though. It was meant to stay hidden until needed."

"It wasn't there for long," said Ron. "The ice wasn't frozen over it." Turning to the others, he said, "This ties in with everything. Voldemort has been gathering a great force for an attack. We thought it must be Azkaban. It might be for us."

"A possibility," agreed Harry. "Or both. He might want the Death Eaters we are holding as well as the ones at Azkaban."

"Harry Potter," said Slider. "Is we being able to go back to the arm room soon?" He was sweating, as were the other elves. Apparently, holding back the arctic wind isn't as easy as it looks.

"Yes," said Harry. "Just let me put this back, for now." He kicked the orb back into the hole and nudged the ice over the top. "Let's go, Slider." With another elvish pop, they were back in the chamber under the ice.

Harry signaled for Ron to follow and they went over to Wood and Longshadow. Picking up Wood, Harry said, "Let's go back to Hogwarts."

Author's note: Many thanks to Jiraiya for the correct Norwegian translations.

Dad


	43. Chapter 43

Sorry if you got some false positives on the chapter being up. The upload section isn't working and I had to google for help since this site apparently isn't supported anymore. Found a work-a-round.

Chapter 43 - Wood's Tale

September 29th, 1997

Upon returning, Honey asked Sleepy to take her directly to her classroom and Martha immediately directed another elf to set up the location of the portkey target with a detector/map pair. It was decided that due to the ambiguity on whether or not the dark mark would be used and also to the extremely slim probability that anyone would be in such a remote region by chance, any person within the area would elicit immediate notification of the principal teens. In the meantime, Hermione decided that Wood would be the perfect demonstration subject for her counterspell. 

"Slider," she asked, "could you please find Tonks and ask her if she could come to the Fortress sometime after four o'clock?"

"You're waiting until after four o'clock to help Oliver?" asked Harry. "Why not see if she can come right away?"

"I've got class," she explained, looking at her watch and grabbing her bookcase. "Why not just leave him unconscious until then? He won't know the difference."

Minerva graced her with an unbelieving stare. After a few seconds, McGonagall asked, "Why does Tonks have to be here in the first place? I thought you had discovered this spell."

"Tonks asked to see a before and after demonstration, Headmistress," replied Hermione. "She believes that it will help the Ministry with it's interrogations."

"I see," replied Minerva. "So we are going to leave a man, a man you know personally, I believe, unconscious for three or more hours and delay an important demonstration to a Ministry auror in order for you to attend class?" She was pretty strict about attendance but she had her limits. "Which class has such importance for you?"

"Ancient Runes, Headmistress," replied Hermione, beginning to blush. "Perhaps I could skip it today. It's just a review for the test on Friday."

"Perhaps," said McGonagall.

"OK, Slider," surrendered Hermione. "Please ask Tonks to come as soon as she is able. If she can't come right away, let me know when she will be able to join us."

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," replied Slider and he popped off to find the metamorphmangus.

Harry laughed internally at Hermione's maneuver to give herself a chance of still making most of her class.

After Slider had left in search of Tonks, Minerva asked Harry, "Do you know the name of the man captured with Wood? He also looks familiar, which is to be expected, I guess. I have been teaching for quite some time."

Harry could have asked Martha to see the records for Mousa Broch to find out this information. He went with the even more direct method of pulling out his personal relative map and, after reviewing it for a few seconds, said, "His name is Kevin Longshadow, Minerva."

"Longshadow," she said, thinking. "I think he graduated around ten years ago. Ravenclaw if I'm not mistaken. Of course a lot can happen in ten years but I don't recall him being a particularly bad child. Perhaps he is also just under this spell that you have detected."

"I tend to believe almost any new Death Eater is most likely in that category, Headmistress," agreed Ron. "To get the really good fanatics, he has to spend some time and effort on recruitment and incentives. His original Death Eaters were the result of years of additions. After he came back, he probably started with the same tactics. Of course a lot of them are gone now, one way or the other. From what we know of his training practices, any Death Eaters we see on the maps now, whether or not they are the trainer or the trainee, have probably only been on board for a few months at most. Longshadow is probably in that group."

"We won't really know for sure until Luna talks to them," added Hermione. "It may be just as likely that half of the ones we have now are victims, not Death Eaters. The cure to the loyalty spell is too new. We just haven't had time to disenchant them yet to find out."

"Which makes it that much more important that the Minister helps us to change the house-elf laws," said Harry. "I'd feel a lot better just capturing as many as possible rather than hurting or killing them."

"We might not be able to do that, Harry," said Ron. He had the look on his face that Harry had come to understand over the years indicated that he had a valid thought forming but hadn't quite finished. Harry waited. Hermione, who had just as much experience with Ron as Harry, also sat expectantly for what could be either brilliance or tripe. McGonagall, however, wasn't quite so patient.

"What exactly do you mean, Mr. Weasley?" she asked. In class, she had always demanded complete explanations when asking a question. It was unclear, at least to Harry, whether or not she would get one now.

"Well, Headmistress," began Ron, "If we wait until we get into a fight with them, it won't matter if they are real or pretend Death Eaters; we'll have to take them out. However, if we get them now, in a manner and time of our choosing, we might not have to hurt or kill anyone."

"That sounds like what Harry just said, Ron," said Hermione. "What's the down side?"

"The down side," replied Ron, "is we would have to tip our hand. If we get everyone that Voldemort sends out, he'll know we can detect his Death Eaters from a distance. If we just keep watching their movements, we might have to fight them, someday. Either way has good and bad points."

"I think the good point of not having to kill perhaps four hundred and fifty possibly innocent people would outweigh the good point of tracking them," said Hermione. "We haven't seen any new locations for them to go lately, anyway."

"We haven't taken enough prisoners lately to find any new locations," corrected Harry.

"It wouldn't work that well, anyway," said Ron. "We'd get maybe thirty or forty Death Eaters before Voldemort would shut the whole program down. He might just launch his attacks before either he or we are ready and really give us a blood bath."

"He could also decide that the entire program was compromised and move items of interest, such as the horcrux in the pendulum, to other locations," surmised Harry.

"So what do we do?" asked Hermione. "We can't just wait for battle and kill them like they were real Death Eaters."

"They are real Death Eaters, Hermione," said Harry, coldly. "They will remain real Death Eaters until you can disenchant them and Luna can clear them. Until then, they will kill you, me, Ron, Minerva and anyone else without mercy if that is what they are told to do. Never forget that. We will capture them if we can when the time comes but we can't second guess ourselves on whether or not they wanted to be there. That will just get us killed."

Minerva sat silently in shock as she watched this three-way conversation. Hermione seemed to be thinking the way that she would. She would remove the possibly innocent Death Eaters before they could get hurt. Ron, of course, realized that they wouldn't be able to do that for long and thought the information they were getting was more important than the few lives they might be able to save. In the long run, it might be information that prevented an all out war. Harry, who she now realized had become very much the veteran warrior with dozens of dead and captured to his credit, was mostly interested in keeping his forces safe and to hell with the other side. They were all correct, of course. She wondered which way they would choose?

It was into this impasse that Slider brought Tonks. As if by mutual consent, the three decided to completely drop their discussion and proceed onto their business with her.

"Good afternoon, Tonks," said Harry. "We're glad you could join us." He looked at his wife and added, "At least most of us are glad you could join us."

Hermione blushed and said, "Don't listen to him, Tonks. I'm glad we can proceed. I made an unfortunate comment about letting the subject of our demonstration remain stunned until after classes were over and everyone informed me quite clearly that it might not be the most moral of choices."

Tonks, fully aware of how seriously Hermione took her school work, decided to get on with the demonstration. Then she changed her mind and decided to play her first. "Actually, Hermione," she started, "If you had something else to do first, it would have been perfectly acceptable to leave him for a while longer. We do that all the time in the Auror Corp. If we take down a Death Eater just before lunch or something, we just stun them, go find someplace nice to eat and do the paperwork when we get back."

Hermione turned to the others in the room and said, "There, you see? It wouldn't have hurt anything to wait a few hours." When they all started to laugh at her she turned around to gain further support from Tonks only to find that she, too, was doubled up. Gathering that she had been had, she decided not to add to her humiliation and just went over to Wood. Pointing her wand at him, she said, "Enervate." She stepped back, holding her wand at the ready. The others joined her, noting that this could turn into a serious situation very quickly.

Oliver Wood came out of his imposed nap in pretty much the same way that Draco Malfoy and Orion Halsfer had, with reluctance and pain. The elves, Jumper in the case of Wood, didn't want to perform poorly on their first mission so, despite the warnings and training they had received, hit their targets with slightly higher than the moderate stunner they were capable of when they turned it all the way down. Harry walked over to their locker and removed the potion that would help him. He offered it to his old captain.

"Here, Oliver, " he said. "Drink this and the world will stop spinning."

Wood looked up, saw who it was and jumped to his feet. "Potter!" he cried and lunged for Harry's throat. Two stunners later, one from Hermione and one from Tonks, and Wood was out again.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that they have some standing orders," said Ron.

"It doesn't look like they have any plans on trying to capture Harry anymore, does it?" added Tonks. She was peering at Wood, trying to see some physical manifestation of his mental condition.

"I think Voldemort wants him dead and doesn't care anymore about who does it," agreed Hermione. "Shall we try that again? Maybe with a Petrificus Totalis to start?"

Everyone signaled their agreement and Hermione petrified Wood and then enervated him. She then freed his head and he started in at once. "Potter," he cried. "You have insulted my master. You must die for your insolence. I will kill you and the Dark Lord will reward me." He had the trademark manic gleam of a Death Eater in his eye.

"Now this is a typical Death Eater," said Hermione, indicating Wood. "Notice the total disregard for reality or their own safety. His only purpose right now is to kill Harry." She stepped back and offered to let Tonks have a closer look.

Tonks listened to the ravings of Wood for a few seconds before using the Silencio spell on him and turned back to Hermione. "He does seem like he's a bit under a spell. I wonder why the Ministry never suspected this before?"

"It was never this extreme in the past," said Harry. "The ones we captured earlier could talk to me and even be reasonable under the right conditions. I don't see Wood tolerating my existence, much less making a deal with me."

"I wonder why the change was made?" asked Minerva. She had been mostly watching the proceedings but felt it was a legitimate question.

"It was probably because of you, Headmistress," replied Hermione. "You heard Wood. Harry insulted his master. That must be from when Harry busted in with Dobby and interrupted your little chat. After such a total and humiliating defeat, Voldemort became, hard as it is to believe, even more angry with Harry. Since he has to cast this spell personally for it to apply to him, that venom would naturally carry into the spell. All of the new Death Eaters will try to kill Harry on sight."

"Why don't we release Oliver, now?" asked Harry. "I have a lot of fond memories of our games and don't want them ruined by him killing me."

"Very well," said Hermione. "The counterspell is Destorum Obligatus Semprous and it is quite hard on the recipient. After seeing how much more of a hold the loyalty spell has on Oliver and thinking about how Krillian reacted, I think it would be a worthwhile precaution to perform the counterspell in the presence of Madam Pomfrey."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Ron shrugged and Harry said, "I tend to agree." Looking at the older women, he explained, "Krillian is a Death Eater that came on the raid to capture you, Minerva. I questioned him with some results as long as he was scared of me. We used him as our test subject on Hermione's counterspell and it dropped him to the floor like a sack of rocks. He was nauseous and dizzy for about two or three minutes. He was able to make it to the toilet before vomiting, at least. If Oliver is even more under the spell than he, perhaps Poppy should be at hand."

"A wise precaution, Harry," agreed Minerva. "Slider. Could you ask Madam Pomfrey to join us, please?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Slider, and popped off to find the nurse.

"If the reaction is as severe as you are saying, we could also ask her about administering some potions before we cast the counterspell to mitigate the effects," suggested Tonks.

"I'm sure that Madam Pomfrey will have everything sorted out in no time," said Ron. "If she can keep Harry alive after all of his quidditch injuries, she can do anything."

About five minutes later, Madam Pomfrey had joined the group. "I'm sorry it took so long," began the elderly nurse, "but Slider said it wasn't an emergency and I had a young lady who had managed to turn her fingernails into, well, never mind. What assistance did you require?"

Hermione explained the situation with the Death Eaters and how her first experience with the counterspell had given her some concern. Poppy agreed that it would probably be best to have a trained healer present during at least the first few castings of that particular spell. She was not sure that she could or should prescribe any sort of preventative spells or potions without having observed the reaction at least once.

"It's not that it is a bad idea," she said to Tonks when the auror brought up the possibility. "It's just that I can't prepare a proper protocol for this situation if we are muddying it up at the start. I need to see one clean counterspell. After that, we can modify the situation as we see fit."

"We had better move Oliver into a cell with a bathroom," said Harry. "He will need something to vomit into and maybe a place to clean up a bit when it is done. We can use one of the cells that are naturally large so we can see the effects from all angles." He levitated Wood over to the cell two away from Krillian and apparated the two of them inside. Harry then returned to the outside of the cell and removed the Petrificus Totalis and Silencio spells. Immediately, Wood started in on Harry, throwing himself against the glass walls and accosting him with every curse he could think of.

"Do it, Hermione," said Harry, "before he can hurt himself." He stood back to make room for his wife.

Hermione, Poppy, Tonks and Minerva gathered around the cell. Hermione waved her wand and intoned "Destorum Obligatus Semprous". As before, the effect was total and immediate. Wood dropped to the floor and retched all over himself. He flopped onto his back and held his head as if to keep it from falling off. He soon went pale and started coughing as well as retching. This was definitely worse than it had been for Krillian. The third wave of vomit included a fairly large amount of blood so Poppy pulled a few vials from her bag and requested to be let in with him. Harry agreed but ordered Slider and Jumper to accompany her with instructions to remove her if Wood became dangerous.

Once inside, she waved her wand to remove the contents of Wood's stomach that had resurfaced. She then cast a spell or two to calm him down and give temporary relief. This gave her the time to cast a few diagnosis spells. Her guesses as to the potions she would need were mostly correct although she did have to send Jumper for her bag. After Wood had managed to ingest three nasty looking potions, he seemed to feel a lot better. Poppy helped him over to the bed and gave him a mild sleeping draft. She then had the elves pop her back to the rest of the group.

"Wood should rest for at least an hour," she said. "That was the worst reaction to a counterspell that I have ever seen. I would recommend that I be present at all future castings. I will need to brew some more of these potions, though. About how many people do you think I will have to treat?"

"It could be as many as five hundred or so," said Hermione. At Poppy's gasp, she added, "Not all at once, of course. We plan to use it on all of our current prisoners; that would be about thirty five. Most of these probably won't have this severe a reaction. Longshadow might, though. He will have to be next. After that, all captured Death Eaters will need to be treated to see who is really on the side of Voldemort and who was just abducted."

Poppy nodded. "I will start at once." She then had a thought and expressed it. "I would very much like to consult with Professor Triffle on these potions and any modifications he might suggest. He seems to know more about obscure potions, their variations, their alternate uses and methods of ingesting than any person I have ever met. He might be very helpful in preventing the response that we had with Wood. Could I speak with him?" She addressed this question to Harry. She, like Minerva, knew who was the boss in this situation.

Harry thought for a moment. He then said, "I would prefer to have him give you the information under our extended obliviate spell but he will, like you, need to be involved on a continuing basis, I believe. Please ask him to keep his information in confidence and do not mention the involvement of the three of us to him." He indicated Hermione, Ron and himself.

"Certainly, Harry," agreed Poppy. "I would like to talk to him before we do Mr. Longshadow. It will allow us to see if our proposed treatment provides better results."

"Of course, Poppy," said Harry. "I will put him in a cell like Wood's and enervate him."

"Thank you, Harry," said Poppy. She then asked Slider to take her back to her Hospital.

The remaining members of the group walked back to the office. Harry grabbed Longshadow and apparated into the cell next to Wood. He popped outside and enervated him. Leaving the restorative potion with Jumper with instructions to offer it to Longshadow, he enervated the Death Eater and apparated back to the office.

Harry sat in his chair. He looked thoughtfully for a few seconds before addressing Minerva. "Headmistress," he began, using her title because it was appropriate. "Tomorrow morning, Hermione, Ron and I have an appointment with the Minister of Magic. Something we have discussed several times this afternoon leads me to believe that Luna should accompany us to Diagon Alley. As you have no doubt heard, Luna is able to tell when people are lying to her, not unlike the ability of Tom Riddle. She has agreed for her part to help us when necessary and when I interview Oliver this afternoon, I will ask her to join me. She also seems to be able to tell if people are good or evil and to what extent. Hidden things are obvious to her. For example, she saw through Draco's disguise within a couple of days. We very much need her help to sort out the Death Eaters we capture and she has done so to a limited amount in the past but she is still underage. I would like to ask your permission to take her with us so we can explain her duties and the dangers involved to her father so that he can give or withhold his formal permission for her to help us."

"I understand, Harry," said Minerva. "Let's see. Her birthday is Saturday but she will still be only turning sixteen, I believe. While the occasional assistance that you have received from Miss Lovegood and perhaps others needn't involve such official parental notification, the duties you will have for her in the future, especially the extensive contact with potential Death Eaters, would lead me to believe that Mr. Lovegood should be involved. You have my permission, if she also agrees, to let her accompany you to London to consult with her father. When is your appointment with the Minister, by the way?"

"It is at ten o'clock, Headmistress," replied Harry. "I believe that if we leave just after breakfast, we will be finished with both meetings in time for afternoon classes."

"That's great," said Hermione. "We have double Potions tomorrow afternoon."

"Then again, it might take all day," said Ron, optimistically.

After Hermione and Minerva left to finish out the day with school related activities, Harry, Ron and Tonks went to the old B Block to adjust some of the cells to accommodate people like Wood, and perhaps Longshadow, who weren't Death Eaters but who also couldn't be released for some time. The family apartments could be used for now, of course, but they only had fifteen of those left and they wanted to save them for families. They might have hundreds of ex-Death Eaters and needed a comfortable place to keep them. B Block seemed to be just the place. Twenty-five cells were currently in place and Harry was able to use the spacial distortion spell that Dumbledore had taught him to make them large enough for ten men or women to live in each in relative comfort. They would have a proper door, of course, and the exercise area was at hand. They would have to leave that warded against apparation, though, due to the concurrent use by real Death Eaters that were cooperating. Winky would be in charge of transport to and from that facility. All in all, two-hundred and fifty cured but not freed ex-Death Eaters would be able to be accommodated. Tonks wasn't sure of the legality of holding witches and wizards that they knew were innocent.

"I know that releasing them would give away a lot to Voldemort," she argued, "but if they want to leave, are we going to hold them at wand point?"

"Once we start releasing them," explained Ron, "Voldemort will find out about it and probably grab a few to see why they stopped being his puppets. Once he does that, he will change his tactics again and we're back to square one trying to figure out what he's up to. He'll either hit them with another spell or maybe just kill them for turning on him. Other than not being considered kidnapers, there isn't a good reason for us to release anyone. They will be safe here and they won't be able to be used against us."

Harry sat listening. After Ron had finished, he thought about the arguments and said, "I think that we won't be holding anyone for years, Tonks. All secrets, especially military ones, are found out, eventually. After a while, it won't be a secret anymore and we can then release those that want to go. I think that we can do more than just keep them here. I would like to take those that are definitely on our side and want to help and train them like the house-elves."

"What?" asked Ron. "You mean make them servants?"

"No," said Harry, disappointed at his friend's lack of a grasp of the obvious, "I mean like we are training the free elves. Voldemort wanted to use them as an army. We can do the same only we would give them real training and offer them the choice."

"Now you're talking, Harry," said Tonks. "I was also thinking about what you and Ron were saying earlier about tipping your hand with taking the new Death Eaters from these sites you are monitoring. If you only grab them when they are visiting Diagon or Knockturn Alleys, then it wouldn't raise any suspicions about the other places, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't," agreed Ron. "Grabbing Wood and that other bloke, ah, Longshadow, would be considered just a coincidence. They might even think it had something to do with the Fortress of Solitude since the Shetlands are at the far north of Great Britain. As long as we don't pick up anyone from the other locations, they wouldn't be suspected of being watched."

"Ah, yes," said Harry. "The other Fortress of Solitude. I tend to agree with you that that locator charm wasn't there for very long. We need to decide how we want to respond when visitors show up."

"All I've come up with so far is the fact that it would be another opportunity to grab a lot of Death Eaters, both real and pretend, without drawing any attention to what we are up to," said Ron. "I don't have any idea on when would be the best time for Voldemort to attack or how many men he will bring. It all depends on whether or not it will be the only target or if he will coordinate it as part of a series of attacks. That's what I would do if I had the manpower he has accumulated."

"Nothing personal, mate," said Harry, "but if you came to that conclusion, there is a good chance that Voldemort did, too. He's still brilliant."

"There is one thing that Voldemort is that Ron isn't," offered Tonks.

"What's that?" asked Harry. He wasn't used to Tonks offering much during their strategy sessions.

"He's furious," replied the bubblegum coifed auror. "Look at Wood. It's like Hermione said earlier; Wood wouldn't be as intent on your death and have such a bad reaction to the counterspell if Voldemort wasn't absolutely beside himself with rage. We should anticipate a rushed attack and plenty of mistakes."

Ron and Harry thought about the implications of this. As usual, Ron came up with the practical outcome from the enemy's point of view. "We have always pictured Voldemort as a bloodthirsty megalomaniac with delusions of godhood but always under control, of himself as well as those around him," he said. "Tonks might be right, however. His image of invulnerability, so important to his own ego as well as maintaining the support of his upper ranks took a severe beating at the hands of an elf and a school boy. This was just the last of a series of defeats to his plans but this time it was a direct meeting between Harry and Voldemort and it was Voldemort who fled for his life. If he can't kill Harry, and soon, no witch or wizard will freely join his side."

"So you think he might just pull out all the stops on an assault on the Fortress North?" asked Harry.

"He might," agreed Ron. "It doesn't really make that much sense as solely being a response to the rescue of McGonagall, though. That was just last week. I'd like to see that list that Martha drew up showing the dates we first noticed each new Death Eater."

The list was constantly updated so Ron went into the elf office and asked Martha to see it. She picked it off a nearby worktable and handed it to Ron. He brought it back to the main office and took a new piece of parchment, quill and ink out of his desk drawer. Harry watched as Ron thumbed back several pages until he arrived at the location he was apparently looking for. He quickly went through several entries before writing down a number. This process was repeated several more times until he had completed the book as far as it had gone.

After briefly checking the numbers on his parchment, he handed them to Harry. "It's just as I thought," he said. "Most of the Death Eaters are probably legitimate evil types who chose to join. If we go back to our second hand information from those we captured, he started out the summer with a burst after Dumbledore was killed. Those were probably the ones that wanted to join but were waiting for the right moment. With the main strength of the light side dead, they probably thought that the time had come and signed on. He had others he had gained from the last couple of years as well as those that had come out of hiding from his last group. It looks like he averaged two or three a week which would be fairly normal."

"So why the big increase now?" asked Harry. "It sounds like he had three or four hundred available before we even got out of school."

" 'Had' is the operable word," said Tonks. "You have been doing a job on them since they captured Hermione. Just on your side, you have killed or captured over a hundred or so. That's a quarter of his army. And the way you did it might have caused a few to try to slip away."

"Exactly," said Ron. "He had to start using the spell on his new recruits because the old ones didn't want any part of you. They couldn't say that, of course, but he knew they would run at the first chance. Especially after the fiasco at the Burrow, only the truly loyal and the enchanted Death Eaters could be counted on."

"So when did the big recruitment drive start?" asked Harry.

"It looks like just after Hogmead," said Ron. "The numbers went from two or three per week to around seven or eight. They should have gone down. The dozen or so per week started after the Hogwarts Express. If you'll remember, that was when it was revealed that you, with a little help from Hermione, were mostly responsible for all of his major defeats during the summer. I think we have his number. He realized that he had to kill you but didn't want to waste any more of his good Death Eaters. The new ones, or in his mind the expendable ones, will attack us at the North Pole any time now. It might be part of a bigger attack or it might not. I could see an argument either way. If he waits until you are verifiably dead, he would have a much easier time of things at Azkaban. If he hits two places at once, thousands of miles apart, both would be harder to defend."

"Why just the new ones?" asked Tonks. "You'd think he'd want some of his better Death Eaters there to make sure the job is done right."

"Because he is having a hard enough time keeping them happy as it is," replied Harry. "The very fact he needs some temporary Death Eaters tells me that his regulars are getting fed up with being cannon fodder. Besides, this type of mission won't have a lot of subtlety. He'll want them to go in, find us and kill us. There might be a few observers from the regular Death Eaters but I doubt they will participate. It might be worth sacrificing the first wave just to see what our defenses are."

"You are starting to worry me, Harry," said Tonks.

"What do you mean?" replied Harry.

"The way you, and Ron for that matter, can just come up with these perfectly probable plans of what Voldemort might do next," she answered. "Do you just sit around thinking about what the most ruthless way to do something might be?"

Ron laughed. "I don't know about the 'ruthless' part but I am the brother of Fred and George. I shudder to think what they could come up with if unleashed."

"Don't I know it," agreed Tonks. "They are definitely a bad influence on my puppy. Mind you, he was a bit of a willing participant, but still."

"I want to hear all about it," said Harry. He needed some new ammunition to use against the werewolf. "Right now, however, I'm more interested in Death Eater attacks. We'll warn the Minister tomorrow about our suspicions. With our resources, I think we should just stick with our own battles. If we give the Ministry a warning about a possible attack on Azkaban and any specific information that comes up, that should be enough for them to hold their own. I think I'll still ask for a few of the old time Death Eaters, just in case."

"You might find him a bit more difficult to work with than before, Harry," said Tonks. She had a word-to-the-wise look on her face. Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't there.

"Why is that?" asked Harry. Ron also looked up, interested.

"He's been taking a lot of heat for letting you do as much as you do," replied Tonks. "A lot of folks thought that allowing the three of you access to sixty aurors like he did for the trap at Ron's place, was foolhardy."

"We caught dozens of Death Eaters and killed Lucius Malfoy at that trap!" replied Ron hotly. It was, after all, his idea in the first place.

"It isn't a matter of how effective you are," explained Tonks. "It was the fact that you are not 'officially elected or deputized representatives of Her Majesty's government', or some such rubbish. They aren't too happy about you having your own prisoners, either, although that's still speculation."

"At least none of mine have escaped," said Harry, sharply.

"Calm down, Harry," soothed Tonks, "I'm on your side, remember? This is just information you need to have before you expect Scrimgeour to be as reasonable as in the past."

"Why is this the first we've heard of this?" asked Ron. "Usually, the Daily Prophet would be all over a story like this."

"I think that Harry made a lasting impression on Mr. Cuffe during their last meeting," said Tonks who heard a reasonably accurate version through the auror grapevine. "He won't print anything about Harry without making absolutely sure that the facts and public are on his side. This place is still pretty secret, after all."

"I guess that explains the delay in setting up a meeting," said Harry. "He had to decide if he wanted to see us at all." Harry looked at Tonks. "What are the Minister's feelings about us?"

Tonks thought for a moment. She then said, "I haven't noticed anyone trying to hinder me when I'm checking on things or otherwise interfering at the Ministry. I think that Rufus is glad to have you but won't be too blatant about it. He is an ex-auror, after all. We usually only care about results."

"I was planning on meeting him like a normal person, tomorrow," said Harry. "You know; enter through the lobby and all that. I suppose if it will make it easier on him, I can still apparate directly into his office."

"I can tell you that he wasn't pleased the last time you did that," said Tonks, grinning. "He had his whole office checked for apparition targets and called in an expert to increase the wards."

"Was the expert a house-elf?" asked Harry, smiling.

"I don't think so," said Tonks. "I heard that it cost quite a few galleons and no self-respecting house-elf would take a knut."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem," replied Harry. "We'll just pop in at ten."

Harry, Ron and Tonks checked on Wood and Longshadow after the hour Poppy had prescribed had passed. Longshadow was awake and, while definitely not happy with his incarceration, wasn't as incensed at the sight of Harry as Wood had been. Even so, for the recovery of Oliver, it was probably a good thing that the cells were soundproof. Wood was still sleeping and they decided to give him at least another hour so that Hermione would be able to join them.

Ron and Tonks went back to the office while Harry stayed a while to observe both Wood and Longshadow. He hoped that his friend and former captain would be back to normal soon. He tried to shake it off as just a spell but the verbal assault had been so personal that he had to wonder if it wasn't at least partially Wood's own thoughts. As he thought about all the others who might be under the same spell, he started to review, once again, the steps they had taken to prepare for their newest captives. If Ron's analysis proved to be correct, perhaps as few as a hundred of only the very newest Death Eaters would be enchanted in the same manner as Oliver. The rapid ramping up of new recruits had only started about two months ago, after all. He smiled as he wondered how many times he could alter the cells in B Block before they flew apart from the stress.

Shortly after four o'clock, Hermione apparated back into their office. "Did you talk to Wood yet?" she asked, before she even set her things down on her desk.

"No," said Harry. "We wanted to wait for you and it looked like he could use the rest. That is one nasty spell."

"Don't remind me," said Hermione, glumly. "I thought it was bad cutting their arms off. I suppose that's still worse but at least they don't suffer. I may have to teach you lot how to do that counterspell."

"I'll do the next one," offered Tonks. "I want you to watch me anyway to make sure I can do it right." She was looking forward to re-interviewing some of the tougher nuts that they hadn't cracked, yet.

"Done," said Hermione. "Well, then. Are we ready to see if Wood has recovered?" She stood up. Harry, Ron and Tonks followed suit and the four of them walked down to stand before Wood's cell.

Wood was still sleeping soundly. Harry wondered about this before realizing that Oliver was in a soundproof room on a fairly comfortable bed. It was, after all, one of their cells usually reserved for 'good' Death Eaters. He was about to apparate into the cell and wake him when he remembered their plan. He turned to an empty part of the hall and said, "Slider, could you come here, please? Thank you." He hadn't finished the third word before the house-elf was standing before him, as usual.

"What can Slider be doing for Harry Potter?" asked Slider. He waited patiently, his previous activity apparently put on hold.

"I would like for you to ask Luna Lovegood if she could join us here, Slider," said Harry. "If she agrees, please bring her to us."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Slider and he popped away.

Tonks looked at Harry and asked, "Are you sure that you can keep with your plan of not releasing people like Wood, Harry? I mean, he's your friend. If he asks to leave, are you going to tell him he has to stay?"

"I know he's my friend, Tonks," said Harry, a little upset by the tone and subject. "I don't want to hold him prisoner but I don't want to see him recaptured or killed. We talked about this already. If you were Voldemort and all of a sudden the people you have enchanted start going their own merry way, what would you do?"

Tonks thought about this and, nodding her head, said, "I see your point. I just don't know if it will work out the way you want it to."

"Not much does," replied Harry.

A few moments later, Slider returned with Luna.

"Good afternoon, Luna," said Hermione.

"Good afternoon, Hermione," replied Luna, a little dreamier than normal. She looked around and saw the sleeping Wood and the animated form of Longshadow, pacing around in his cell, trying to discern it's weaknesses. Nothing seemed to confuse her to the point of asking a question, though, and she waited patiently for someone to speak to her.

"Hi, Luna," said Harry. "We wanted to ask a favor or two and to also discuss a trip we're taking tomorrow morning and why we would like you to join us."

"I have class in the morning, Harry," stated Luna.

"I know," said Harry. "Headmistress McGonagall has given her permission for you to join us if you agree. The help I need from you and the purpose of the trip are related. I would like your help interviewing Oliver Wood. Do you remember him?" He pointed at the sleeping man in the cell.

Luna looked at Wood and thought for a moment. "The name is very familiar and I think I recognize the face," she replied. "He was on your quidditch team, wasn't he?"

Harry wasn't surprised. Luna had proven her disinterest in quidditch on her famous try-out as announcer. He never understood why she even wanted the post. "Yes," he replied, "Oliver was the Gryffindor Captain for my first three years. He was a good friend and teammate."

"So why do you have him locked in a cell?" asked Luna. She knew how to get to the point.

Harry frowned. "He had the dark mark," he answered. "We are hoping that it wasn't by choice. Hermione has discovered that Voldemort has been placing a spell on his newest Death Eaters to compel them to think he is wise and powerful and that the best course of action they can take is whatever he suggests. She also found the counterspell. We used it on one Death Eater and he became more reasonable but he seems to have initially joined Voldemort voluntarily. When we brought Oliver here, he was only interested in my immediate death. Wood tried to choke me and had to be stunned again. Hermione cast the counterspell and Oliver became very ill. Madam Pomfrey has fixed him up for the most part and he should be more reasonable now."

"I'm glad that your friend won't try to kill you, Harry," said Luna. "You haven't explained why I am here." She looked at him expectantly.

"We need to know if Wood was an innocent victim or at least partially a willing participant," answered Harry. "You seem to be able to tell. This is also the reason why we would like for you to join us on the trip tomorrow. We think that anywhere from one hundred to five hundred people might be in Voldemort's army in the same condition as Oliver was. Veritaserum could be used but it isn't foolproof. It also limits us to simple questions and we need more of a complete discussion with some of these people. If you agree, we would like to take you with us to London and talk to your father about all of this. You are still underage and this would be a lot of exposure to Death Eaters so we thought we had better get his consent as well as yours."

Luna, for the first time in recent history, was nervous. She thought about what Harry was asking and looked at the two men in the cells. One was sleeping peacefully and would apparently wake as a normal wizard. The other seemed to be more of a trapped animal intent on murder. She wondered why they had only cured Wood but didn't ask. Finally, she voiced her major concern.

"Harry," said Luna, "am I to be the sole judge of these men? Would it be up to me to say this man is good and this one is evil?"

Harry didn't think of it that way but she was basically correct. He might argue Wood's case if she came down against him but Longshadow was a stranger. If Luna said he was a willing Death Eater, he would lock him up without regrets. "For the time being, Luna," said Harry. "If and when we are able to either turn them over to the courts or determine another way to know their hearts, you will no longer be put on the spot. I realize that you probably don't want to have this type of power but you are the best we have, right now."

"What will happen to them if I say they are willing Death Eaters?" asked Luna, still more focused than normal.

"They will be treated as the other Death Eaters we have captured," said Hermione. "Their situations could improve, though, if they were free to cooperate. These cells here are fairly nice, as you can see." She indicated the cells holding Wood and Longshadow.

"And what of those I say are innocent," asked Luna. "What will become of them?" She seemed to already suspect that immediate release wasn't too likely.

"We are still discussing that," said Harry. "We don't want to hold them but we may have to, for their own safety as well as secrecy."

"Why would you need to keep them prisoner for their safety?" asked Luna.

"When these two," said Harry, indicating their newest prisoners, "don't return, Voldemort will possibly check to see if they have returned to their homes. If they have, he will simply recapture them. At that point, anything is possible. He may re-enslave them. He may discover their new arms. He may kill them outright for turning on him. By their thoughts and memories, he may discover where our headquarters is, since he has been here before. It is just too risky all around."

"So why do you need me?" asked Luna. "It seems that both choices lead to the same result." She was logical enough for Ravenclaw, all right.

"The difference will be in the amount of freedom they have while here," said Hermione. "Harry has made the cells on the other side of the snake door into dormitories. They have doors and can leave them at will. If we end up with a lot of abducted Death Eaters, we will try to expand on their available activities. It isn't perfect but it is the best that we have until other solutions present themselves."

"The other reason we need you," said Ron, "is due to the limitations of veritaserum. As Harry said, it is only useful for finding answers to simple, specific questions and a real dialog isn't possible. If we had some wizards that were really good that were in Voldemort's strongholds for a while, they might know all sorts of things that we would never think to ask about. We have to be able to trust them, though."

Luna sat quietly. Hermione was watching her, waiting for her reply. As was normal with Hermione, a dozen different thoughts and concerns were flowing through her brain. One in particular took root and she queued it up to be addressed when they had received Luna's answer.

"I will try to help you, Harry," said Luna, "as I promised. I don't know if I will be able to wield the responsibility that you are entrusting to me, though. If I decide to stop, will you be upset with me?" She seemed truly concerned with his approval. This also was a new facet of the witch.

"I will understand," said Harry. "I have experienced the same sort of decisions that I am asking you to make and it never gets easier." The simple choice to choose this group or that group of Death Eaters when attacking in his animagus form had been similar to the decisions that Luna now faced. Basically, it would determine who would live and who would die.

"Thank you, Harry," said Luna. "Shall we interview your friend now?"

"I don't know why not," replied Harry and prepared to apparate them all, probably in groups, into Wood's cell.

"Do you think we could do Longshadow first," asked Tonks. "He would be less of a distraction and could be sleeping it off while we talk to Wood."

"I don't know if Poppy is ready with her potions," said Harry. "She wanted to consult with Professor Triffle and maybe come up with something they could take beforehand to make it less traumatic."

"That's only been a couple of hours, Harry," said Hermione. "I doubt that she has even been able to talk to Professor Triffle, yet, much less prepare anything they might have come up with."

"You're probably right," agreed Tonks. "Judging from the reaction Wood had, a dose or two of some sort of a potion would probably be a good idea. I guess I can wait."

"Why don't you do one of the other kidnapers?" asked Ron. "That first bloke was just a little sick. I don't think Voldemort turned up the power on that spell until after Harry and Dobby kicked his butt."

"That's a good idea," said Hermione. "Tonks and I can do that while you two talk to Wood. If I know you three like I think I do, the talk will be thick with quidditch in five minutes."

"True enough, I suppose," agreed Ron. "If he's back to normal, that is."

"Then again," suggested Harry, "he might have gotten over his fixation on all things quidditch and moved on to a more thoughtful and well rounded phase of his life." They all laughed uproariously at his joke. Wood had once come perilously close to suggesting that if Harry was killed on the quidditch pitch, he had better have caught the snitch first. Spending the past few years as a reserve for Puddlemere United had probably not dulled his obsession.

After the two older women left, Harry apparated Luna and Ron into Wood's cell. He was apparently feeling a little better because he woke at the sound of their pops. Looking up, he saw the three of them and he had a confused look on his face. "Harry?" he asked. He shook his head and looked at Ron and Luna but said nothing to either. His attention was focused on Harry.

He sat up and Ron pulled out his wand. Wood didn't seem to be totally back to himself and Ron didn't want to take any chances. Wood tried to gather his thoughts and, after failing miserably, decided to take the direct approach.

"What's going on, Harry?" he asked. "I know that just a while ago, all I wanted to do was kill you but I don't remember why." He looked at his left arm; the one that Harry already replaced. The mark was, of course, not there. "I joined up with the Dark, ah, You-Know-Who a few days ago but, again, I don't know why. I know I was given the dark mark but now it's gone. Was this all a dream? But then, why would I be here now?" He looked around and noticed the intently staring man on the other side of a clear glass wall. "That's Kevin," he exclaimed. Wood had to shut it down or loose what few marbles he had left. "Harry, can you help me?"

Harry sat in a chair next to Oliver's bed and tried to decide how to explain everything. "I believe I can help you make sense of this, Oliver," he said, "but it will take all of us working together for a while to understand exactly what happened."

Wood was agitated for a few more seconds before gaining control of himself. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, Harry," he said. "What's going on?"

"Well," began Harry, "we only have a working theory but you seem to be bearing it out. We, that is Ron, Hermione and a few others, have been monitoring the movements of hundreds of Death Eaters. From the ones we have captured and our own observations, we know that Voldemort's recruitment of new Death Eaters has taken an unlikely increase in the last couple of months. He's lost about a hundred or so of the willing ones and we think that you are part of a new program to replace them with unwilling ones."

"But I decided to join him," argued Wood, unbelieving as he was of his own words. "I was happy to sign up."

"You were hit with a spell that makes Voldemort seem like the smartest wizard in the world and all you would want to do is please him," said Ron. "When did you decide to join him?"

"I'm a little fuzzy on that part," said Oliver. "I was walking down Diagon Alley, you know, doing a bit of shopping. I think I was on my way to Quality Quidditch Supplies. The next thing I know, I mean the very next thing, I was sitting in front of You-Know-Who. Someone, perhaps him, must have enervated me. I've played enough quidditch to recognize the effects." He smiled and Harry joined him. How many times during games or practice has a bludger done a number on their skulls? "Anyway, You-know-who casts a spell and I suddenly realize I've been wasting my time playing games. My life's ambition should be to serve the Dark Lord and all of my dreams will come true." He was telling his story and even he couldn't believe it.

"So what's it like, you know, serving Voldemort?" asked Ron. "Did you get training or anything?"

"We, that is the ones in my group, there were about ten of us," continued Wood, "we were given general instructions on what was expected of us. For example, the number one rule was 'The Mission Comes First'. They used someone as an example. Let's see; it was Flonder or Flinter or something? Anyway, he left on a mission with his group. They said ten went in but he was the only one who made it back. He completed his mission, though and they said that was all that counted. After that, we were assigned our first guides. They took us to different parts of the country via apparition. We would stop in some places along the way for just a minute but when we got to the destination assigned to us, we walked all around so we would remember it completely. Our instructions were to also check whenever we were there to see if anything had changed. Once we memorized the place, it made it easy to use for a way point if the next place we went was in that direction. I went on three of these little trips. The last was to the Shetland Isles. Every time was with a new guide. The bloke next door is Kevin Longshadow. He was my new best friend. He said he joined up about a month ago. Seems he trained the same way as I was. Kevin said that when I had been to all of the places a couple of times that You-Know-Who wanted me to learn, it would be up to me to teach them to other new recruits."

Harry turned from Wood to talk to Luna. "Do you have any ideas yet, Luna," he asked. He didn't want to come right out and ask if Oliver was evil right in front of him.

"He is telling the truth, Harry," said the young blonde, "but it's a little hard to tell who's side he's on. He is telling the truth and he seems to be firmly on what I would call the side of 'good' but he is talking about willingly joining Voldemort." She thought for a minute and asked, "May I question him?"

"Of course, Luna," replied Harry.

"Oliver," said Harry, "I don't know if you remember her but this is Luna Lovegood. She is a very good friend and seems to have the ability to tell if you are lying or not and can tell if you are good or evil. We need her to check you out. It's nothing personal, you understand."

"Sure, Harry," said Wood. "I deserve some checking after what I did and said to you. I'm sorry about all of that, by the way. I think it was the spell talking." He turned back to Luna.

Luna looked at him and asked, "Tell me how you feel about Voldemort right now," she asked.

Wood looked unnerved at the question but came up with a response. "I resent his screwing up my life, at the moment," he said. "I missed a game and that hasn't happened before."

"When you arrived, Harry said you wanted to kill him," continued Luna. "Do you still want to kill him?"

"Of course not," said Oliver. "Harry's an old teammate."

"He's fine, Harry," said Luna. She got up. "If you aren't going to do the other one," she indicated Longshadow, "for a while, may I go? I have a date at six with Dougal."

"Sure, Luna," said Harry, "and thanks. We'll leave tomorrow right after breakfast but we hope to be back in time for afternoon classes." She nodded and Harry call for Slider to take her back to her dormitory.

After they left, he returned his attention to Wood. "So you joined last Thursday or Friday?" asked Harry. He wanted to get the timeline correct.

"It must have been Thursday," replied Wood. "We always had a practice scheduled for the Friday before a game so I wouldn't have been out shopping."

"How are things going with Puddlemere United, anyway," asked Ron, his quidditch curiosity activated.

"Well, I have some news about that," said Oliver, excitedly.

Before Wood could finish, Tonks and Hermione returned. She signaled for Harry to bring them inside. Harry popped out and brought them inside before sitting back down with Wood and Ron.

"You remember Hermione," said Harry, making introductions now that Wood was sane. "The other young lady is Tonks. That's her surname. She prefers it to Nymphadora."

"Who wouldn't?" asked Tonks, extending her hand to Oliver, who took it. "Pleased to meet you, Oliver."

"Likewise," said Wood.

"Anyway," interrupted Ron, "What's the news?"

"Oh," said Wood. "I was just told that I'll be alternating each game with Larry Wilson. He's planning on retiring at the end of the year and they wanted me to get some game time in."

"That's great, Oliver," said Harry. "When are you playing the Cannons next?"

"What did I tell you?" asked Hermione of Tonks. "Quidditch. It's all they can think of."


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44 - A Surprise at the Ministry of Magic

September 29th, 1997

Oliver was temporarily relocated to one of the apartments (they didn't have a pressing need to put him in a dormitory), and he was introduced to Winky. He would have free roam (via Winky) of the Fortress of Solitude but would not be allowed to leave or contact anyone on the outside, at least for a while. Wood didn't like the situation but agreed to wait to discuss it all until the following afternoon. After giving Oliver the past few issues of The Daily Prophet and the latest issue of Quidditch World, Harry, Hermione and Ron left to check on Longshaddow and to make sure that they were prepared for their meetings with the Minister and Luna's father.

Longshadow seemed to be in line with the other Death Eaters. He was slightly more agitated at the sight of Harry than the others but he wasn't the raving lunatic that Wood had once been. Since Madam Pomfrey and Professor Triffle hadn't finished their analysis of the various treatments available, they left Longshadow as he was for the time being.

"Do you have the revisions to those house-elf laws ready, Hermione?" asked Ron.

"They're already in my bag," said Hermione. "I read them to Slider and his interpretations of them are in line with what we want. Do either of you want to see them?" she asked, eagerly.

"No, thanks," said Ron and Harry together. They had made one attempt to understand her alterations but it was like looking at those pictures from their childhood where you tried to spot the changes. Ron was still convinced that she had copied one law verbatim and only told them that there was a difference to mess with their heads. She pointed out where the word 'is' had been changed to 'as' but he didn't see the drastic change in meaning that she alluded to.

"The trick," she had explained, "was working with the proper English of witches and wizards and adjusting it slightly to have the proper meanings to our more linguistically challenged little friends."

"I trust you, Hermione," said Harry, at last. He, like Ron, would never make either a good lawyer or politician. He decided to move on to the other matters they wished to discuss with the Minister.

"How much should we reveal about our knowledge of Voldemort's current plans?" he asked. They both knew what he was thinking. Tonks had mentioned that there were some who were less than thrilled that the Ministry was cooperating so fully with Harry and Crew. Their information was fairly important but if it would initiate a heated debate on it's meaning and usefulness, Voldemort would hear about it and alter his plans accordingly. For anything useful to come of it, their information had to be accepted and acted upon without question. That was, of course, just what Harry's critics in the Ministry didn't want to see happen.

"I think that if we just offer enough to warn them of a possible attack at Azkaban and request to take a few of the old time Death Eaters off of his hands, it will be enough for now," replied Ron. "We can mention the increase in Death Eater recruitment and our suspicions on their possible missions. We'll see how he reacts and compare that with the information we got from Tonks."

"And then adjust our tactics from there," agreed Hermione. "We might find Scrimgeour himself to still be reasonable. As long as we are the only ones in the room, he should be able to speak his mind."

"I agree," said Harry. "We have all day. If it seems that Scrimgeour is reasonable, we will be more forthcoming." He had a thought and said, "I think that Luna should join us with the Minister, if her father allows her to join us. She would be better at reading a politician than any of us."

"True enough," said Ron. "I would feel better if I knew that we were getting the straight deal from the Minister."

"Until we do, we can't give him too much information," said Hermione. "I hate playing a meeting with the Minister of Magic by ear but I don't see many options." The boys nodded in agreement.

Now, the time nearing six o'clock, Harry could only think of one more loose end to tie up before they could leave for supper.

"Winky," he called, leaning back in his office chair and hoping, futilely, he knew, that she might be too busy to answer.

"Yes, Master," she replied when she arrived a second later. "What can Winky be doing for Master?"

Harry's subconscious so wanted to avoid the topic he intended to pursue that his mind went briefly on a tangent related to her means of addressing him. All of the other elves, except for Slinky and Kreacher, called him "Harry Potter". Kreacher called him "Master" because he knew how much it annoyed him and Slinky called him "Master" because Winky was watching her like a hawk. Slider and the other Hogwarts house-elves all called him "Harry Potter". Ron was "Master Ron" and Hermione was "Mistress Hermione" but Harry was just "Harry Potter". Odd, that.

"Master?" asked Winky, looking at him in a strange way.

Harry snapped out of it. "Sorry, Winky," he said. "I just faded out for a moment. I wanted to ask if anything unusual happened today, ah, with my aunt?" He had added the last part to delay, however slightly, the real subject of this conversation.

"Mistress Petunia and Winky are working most of the day cleaning Mistress Petunia's plant house," said Winky. "All windows is being clean and pots of dirt is being on the shelves. We is putting seeds and cuttings in pots in the morning, Master."

"Great," said Harry. One down; one to go. "How did the day go for Uncle Vernon?" He had fantasized about how his uncle, who hated everything magical, and Kreacher, who hated everything muggle, would fare by being forced to endure each other's company. Kreacher, he suspected, would have the more difficult time of the two, being ordered to refrain from magic beyond transportation and defense. That could prove to be especially problematic if Uncle Vernon decided that golfing would be more enjoyable with a little competition. An angry and potentially violent house-elf swinging steel clubs that were only the correct length for an illusory version of himself could lead to trouble.

"Master's uncle is not returning from his game, Master," replied Winky.

"He's not back yet?" asked Hermione. "They left around nine o'clock. How long does it take to play a game of golf?"

"I isn't knowing, Mistress," said Winky. "Master's uncle and Kreacher is being at the golf place now. Winky can be asking them when they is returning, if Master or Mistress asks." She stood ready to serve.

"It doesn't matter, Winky," said Harry. "They might have spent a lot of time buying the equipment, I guess. If they aren't back by eight o'clock, let me know and we'll go collect them." Winky nodded and apparated away.

Harry apparated the three of them to their usual alcove just outside of the Great Hall and they joined the rest of the students for supper. As was now their custom, Honey joined them and sat next to Ron. As they sat down, Hermione noticed something unusual.

"Luna," she said. "I believe you told us you had a date with Dougal tonight. What happened?" Surprisingly, not only Ron and Harry looked to her for a response but they were also joined by Dougal.

"We are on our date, Hermione," replied Luna, patiently. "We are sitting together. Food is involved. That makes it a date."

"She has you there, Hermione," said Dougal. He was starting to really enjoy Luna's explanations for her thoughts and actions.

"I suppose she has," replied Hermione. She then remembered her question from a few hours earlier. "Luna, Headmistress McGonagall told us in passing that your birthday is this Saturday. It that correct?"

"Yes, it is," said Luna. "I'll be turning sixteen." She started in on her salad.

"Yes, that's what Head... Wait a moment. Sixteen?" asked Hermione. "That would make you more than two years younger than me. Why are you only a year behind us?"

"I'm not entirely sure," said Luna, thinking a bit. "Things were a bit confused my first year at Hogwarts. My mother had died a year earlier, you see, and Daddy was having a bit of a hard time with it. Somehow, I found myself here while I was still ten, but nobody said anything so I didn't worry about it."

This was fairly unusual. You weren't supposed to come to Hogwarts until you had your letter and that only came on your eleventh birthday. If your birthday fell early on into the school year, like it had for Hermione, you would be one of the oldest members of your class. How Luna had arrived, seemingly a full year early, was anyone's guess. Hermione went back to her originally intended question.

"Do you know how Headmistress McGonagall happened to know, seemingly off the top of her head, that this Saturday was your birthday?" asked Hermione. "There are slightly over four-hundred students in this school. I find it incredible that she can pull that sort of information out of her hat."

"It isn't as hard to do as you might think," said Luna. "You probably have trouble because your birthday seems to move around a bit."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Dougal. "How can her birthday move?'

"I'm not sure," replied Luna, "but last year it was on the nineteenth of September and this year it was on the twenty-first."

"Hermione's birthday is always on the twenty-first of September," argued Harry. He looked to Hermione for confirmation but was met by a sheepish grin.

"Actually," she said, "I meant to tell you but we were so distracted that week that I forgot. My birthday is the nineteenth. I didn't say anything because I wanted to see if you would forget it altogether or if you just had the date mixed up."

"So my choices were inconsideration or stupidity?" asked Harry. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't know how I messed that up."

"I forgive you," said Hermione, leaning over and giving him a kiss. "Just remember that Christmas is on the twenty-fifth this year." Everyone laughed.

"That still doesn't answer your question," said Dougal. "Exactly how did McGonagall know that it was Luna's birthday?"

"That's easy," said Luna. "We happen to have the same birthday." She took a bite out of her chicken. Swallowing, she added, "The year, of course, is different. I think she is going to be seventy-two this year."

"Is that all?" asked Ron. Honey smacked him on the back of the head for his remark but had to smile at it, all the same.

Harry had a sudden inspiration. "I think that I'll have a chat with Professor Sprout after supper."

"What about?" asked Ron. He was fairly well sated and ready for some light conversation.

"You'll have to wait, just like everyone else," said Harry, smiling at Ron. "Let's just say that I'll be killing about a dozen birds with one stone if Sprout goes along with it"

"Now you've got my curiosity up," said Hermione. "It's not that I don't trust you when you go off on these spur of the moment ideas of yours but maybe you should run it by me, as well." She looked like she thought that would be the prudent course.

"Nope," said Harry. "I want you to be as surprised as everyone else." With that, he finished his dinner and refused to discuss the topic further. After dinner, he made his way, alone, to the instructor's table and gathered Professor Sprout. With a few words, he had convinced her to step into a nearby alcove and they spoke for about five minutes. When they left each other, Sprout was smiling conspiratorially and Harry rejoined his group.

"It's all arranged," he said. "She'll discuss part of the plan with Minerva and one or the other of them will make an announcement sometime this week. It should be a lot of fun."

"You send shivers up my spine when you say things like that," said Hermione.

Around nine o'clock, Harry remembered his earlier discussion with Winky. Since she never forgot an order, he assumed that his uncle had returned from his first golf outing.

"Winky," he said into the air.

"Yes, Master," replied Winky. "What can Winky be doing for Master?"

"Am I correct in assuming that my uncle and Kreacher returned from that golf course?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Master," replied Winky. "They is getting back while Master and Mistress is being eating their suppers, Master."

"It's a little late to stop in tonight," said Hermione. "Do you know if it went well?" She knew that it wasn't all that late but she, like Harry, didn't want to spend any more time with Uncle Vernon than necessary. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, had started to become fairly friendly now that she had a major project to work on.

"Winky isn't knowing, Mistress," said Winky. "Master's uncle and Kreacher is arguing when they is getting back but they is also talking about leaving again in the morning. Winky is guessing that it is being good enough for Master's uncle to be wanting to do again."

"Well, we knew that they both like to complain," said Harry. "Maybe they can chew on each other and give the rest of us a break. Thanks, Winky. Are you working with Aunt Petunia again, tomorrow?"

"Yes, Master," said Winky. "We is being getting the plants in the pots in the morning." She seemed to be looking forward to it.

"That's nice," said Hermione. "I'd like to see more flowers around the castle. It always looked a little bare to me."

"Mistress Petunia and Winky is planning the types of flowers we is wanting to grow when it is being warm again. Hogwarts is being pretty, when we is being done."

"Save a few for Dobby's and my parent's tombs," said Harry. "I think they would all like that."

Winky nodded but remained silent. After a few moments, she asked, "Is Master or Mistress needing anything else?"

"I think we're good," said Harry, tentatively looking at his wife. Hermione nodded and Harry bade Winky good night.

After Winky left, Harry sat next to Hermione at their sitting room table. She was using her book holder, as usual, but seemed to be having a bit more trouble than usual. After watching her for a bit, he asked, "What seems to be the problem?"

Hermione stopped working for a moment and sat back in her chair. "I'm trying to find something that I know is in there but I can't figure out how to find it. On a few of my searches, I've seen a couple of books come up that had their titles written in runes. I think that I was in a hurry whenever this happened because I didn't check them out at the time. Now I have an assignment to find some document or map or something that is written in runes and translate it."

"You want to translate a book?" asked Harry. This seemed to be more of a project than even Hermione would normally attempt.

"Just a chapter or two," replied Hermione. "I thought that it would be very clever to do so since I'm curious about the books, anyway."

"So what's the problem?" asked Harry, feigning interest. Ancient Runes was one class that he saw absolutely no point to unless you planned to teach Ancient Runes someday.

Hermione showed him her book case. "Do you see any runes buttons?" she asked.

Harry now understood the problem. When Dobby had adjusted the case, he had added buttons for the alphabet and the numbers zero through nine. Finding a book that used none of these would prove to be difficult.

"So how have you been looking for it?" asked Harry. Hermione had been trying a lot of the buttons earlier that she had proclaimed to be useless.

"I'm trying to remember the searches I did before when those books showed up," answered Hermione. "The problem is I use this all the time." She sat back again.

"If it wasn't for the assignment," began Harry, "I'd just suggest you wait until they happen to appear. Beyond that, I can't help you."

Harry went over to his easy chair and read his potions book's chapter on their next potion; the Elixir of Cunning. The drinker would gain a temporary major boost of their ability to plan and analyze but at the cost of a permanent slight reduction in those same abilities after the potion wore off. Harry thought that this potion might be useful if taken at a critical time but since it took a week to brew and only had a shelf life of three weeks, it would be hard to have some on hand when you needed it.

When he was halfway through reading, he was disturbed by Hermione suddenly shouting, "I've got it!" She pushed one button and started to scroll through the books. Harry got up and walked over next to her. The books were a blur.

"How can you tell what you are seeing?" he asked. Truly, even Hermione couldn't read that fast.

"I just want to get to the end," she explained. "You can only scroll so fast, you see." As the slider reached the bottom of it's run, she started to look more intently. They were now looking at a row of books on what had to be the bottom shelf. All of the titles were numbers. "52 Weeks on a Broom" caught Harry's eye for a second before Hermione grabbed the other slider and the shelf zoomed by horizontally. Within a few seconds it had reached the end. The titles of these books were in undecipherable lettering.

"Are those the books you were looking for?" asked Harry.

"Those aren't runes," said Hermione with a sigh. "They're hieroglyphs."

"How silly of me not to have known that," said Harry. He watched as she slowly scrolled back from the end of the shelf. He did see a few books that he recognized as some sort of oriental writing.

"There," said Hermione, stopping. Three books were centered in the opening that had runic characters on their covers. One was fairly large with a yellowish leather cover. The next was extremely thin with a wooden binding with a few scraps of some sort of leather clinging to it in spots. It seemed to be the oldest of the three. The third book was in bound with a deep purple leather with gold leaf and jewel decorations.

"Now all I have to do is pick one to translate," said Hermione, excitedly.

To Harry, the choice was obvious. "I'd do the thin one myself," he said. "We have a lot going on and you don't need to spend the next three months translating an old book."

Hermione looked at him with a withering stare. "I know you'd do the thin one. So would Ron. I, on the other hand happen to like my school work. I also like the pretty purple book. I think that I'll translate it." She reached in and pulled out the purple volume and began to excitedly browse through it.

Harry, reading the tea leaves properly from years of practice, said "Good night"; kissed her and went to bed.

September 30th, 1997

The next morning, Harry and Hermione popped into their office to see if they had any significant visits happen during the night. As was becoming more the norm, only fairly new Death Eaters were spotted. Wood was in the office, reading the Daily Prophet. This wasn't unexpected since Harry had given him the run of the place (with the help of Winky, of course) and his assigned apartment wasn't currently well stocked with many periodicals.

"Good morning, Oliver," said Harry as he and Hermione entered the office and took seats for themselves. Harry had to use Ron's chair since his was occupied.

"Good morning, Harry; Hermione," replied Wood. "So you think I can get out of here this afternoon, right?" He seemed to be pretty eager.

"We said we would discuss what to do this afternoon, Oliver," corrected Harry. "There are some serious security and safety concerns that have to be resolved first." Harry saw Wood deflate, slightly. "In any event, it wouldn't be a good idea for you to return to any sort of a public life while Voldemort might be looking for you."

"Surely, that would be my choice to make," said Wood. He had been team captain while at Hogwarts and had been on his own for years. Having someone not yet out of school making major decisions for him wouldn't go down well.

"It's your safety but our security that is at stake, Oliver," replied Harry. "We are going to extreme measures to prevent Voldemort from finding this place. If he recaptured you and examined your memories, it would be very bad for us. You see, he's been here before. He would know immediately where we are whereas he is now searching for us almost 2000 miles from here."

Wood simmered for a moment before logic won him over. Nodding, he said, "I understand, Harry. If half of the rumors about you are true, you are a major thorn in the side of You-Know-Who. I would take the personal chance for just myself but I can't put you in danger just so I can play quidditch." Wood's last statement didn't sound quite as sincere as it could have but Harry considered himself lucky that Oliver would make the concession at all.

"We have some other ideas on how you can spend your spare time," offered Hermione. "We'll discuss them this afternoon as well. In the meantime, you can catch up on your reading, make use of the exercise area or visit with Martha."

"Martha?" asked Wood. "Martha who?" He hadn't been in any condition for formal introductions until after Martha's shift was over.

"We had better introduce you," said Harry. "The last time she saw you was when you were still a raving lunatic. I don't want her to have a heart attack if she comes in and sees you out of your cell."

Harry got up and motioned for the others to wait in the office. He walked over to the apartment building and knocked on Martha's door. After a few moments, her door opened and she appeared, holding a piece of toast.

"Good morning, Harry," said Martha. "Am I late for work or something?" She looked at her watch to confirm that she wasn't.

"Not at all," replied Harry. "I wanted to let you know that we have cleared Oliver Wood as being a victim of Voldemort and not one of his men. Do you have a moment to come over so I can introduce you?"

"The office is a full twenty paces from my front door but I suppose it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience." She popped the last of her toast in her mouth and walked over to the office with Harry bringing up the rear.

When she entered, Martha said, "Good morning, Oliver. Are you feeling better, today?" She walked over and offered her hand.

Wood stood up and, taking her hand, said, "A bit, Martha. Are you a permanent resident here, too?" They both sat down while Harry looked on in confusion.

"Do you know each other?" he asked.

"We met in school," explained Wood. "Not really friends, I guess. Just acquaintances." He blushed a bit as he said this but otherwise said no more.

Martha smiled a bit, as if in thought, but she, too, said nothing.

Hermione said, "I don't have to be Luna to realize that there's more here than you two are letting on but unlike my husband, I understand that it's none of my business."

"That's why she married me," said Harry. "She wants to know what's going on, too, but is too polite to ask." Turning to face both Martha and Oliver, he said, "So. Do you want to let us know the real story here?"

Wood turned bright red at this but Martha was unfazed. "Well, it's nothing, really," she explained. "Back in my seventh year, I was blessed with a precocious second year boy who had a huge crush on me." She indicated the incandescent Wood. Smiling, Martha continued.

"He would take every opportunity he could to speak with me. I received anonymous presents of candy and flowers. Finally, in early February, he declared his love and asked me to the Valentine's dance."

"I didn't declare my love," objected Wood. "I just said that I liked you and asked if you would like to attend the dance with me."

"And did you?" asked Harry, turning to face Martha.

"No, I didn't," she answered. Looking Wood up and down, she added, "Of course if I had know how he would turn out..." Wood's blush, which had started to fade, returned. It was joined a moment later by a weaker version from Martha.

Harry didn't know what to say for a moment. He decided to change the subject. "We have to head up to breakfast," he said, rising. Hermione joined him. "We'll discuss our options this afternoon but you can think a bit about something we are considering. If we end up with quite a few of you that didn't want to join Voldemort and we conclude that it would be too dangerous to just go home, we thought that you could all organize into a fighting unit for us. We have other fighters but the more, the merrier."

Wood pondered this suggestion. Smiling, he said, "I suppose if I can't go home, it would make sense to use my time to fight the bloke who was preventing it. I'll give it some thought, Harry."

"Thanks, Oliver," said Harry. Waving to both Wood and Martha, he and Hermione left for breakfast.

Arriving just after eight-thirty, they sat down in their usual places. Their friends were engaged in their regular post-breakfast activities. Luna and Dougal were having some sort of a conversation that, after close observation, Harry realized made no sense at all to Dougal but that he was enjoying nevertheless. Ginny and Neville were having a more private discussion that seemed to make Neville nervous. He was leaning a bit away from Ginny as she scooted ever closer. Normally, this would have caught Ron's eye but he was busy arranging a snogging session with his girl for that afternoon. Honey happened to have the last hour free and they would use the time before the majority of the students finished their day to good effect.

After a bit, Luna noticed Harry and Hermione. "Good morning, Harry. Good morning Hermione," she said, happily. "Will we be leaving at nine o'clock exactly or could we go a bit earlier?"

"It doesn't really matter, Luna," said Harry, looking around to see who was within earshot. Lowering his voice and leaning in, he said, "Our main meeting starts at ten o'clock but we could leave a bit earlier if you wanted to spend some extra time visiting your father."

"That would be very nice, Harry," said Luna. "I'd like to leave as soon as the three of you are finished with your breakfast." She glanced at Ron, who was working on what happened to be his fourth helping of cauldron cakes.

"You're going to London?" whispered Dougal. He realized, even if his girl didn't, that such a trip was probably fairly secret.

"Oh, yes," said Luna, happily. "We are going to see my father and then Harry, Hermione and Ron will be visiting with the Minister of Magic." Facing Harry with a serious look on her face, she added, "I've brought a few extra cloves of garlic in case you forgot yours."

"Thank you, Luna," said Harry, cheerily. Under his breath, he muttered "Don't ask," to the rest of the table. Harry was in on the fact that Luna believed the Minister of Magic was a vampire. "Actually, we were hoping you could accompany us to see the Minister, as well."

"I suppose I could," said Luna as if she met with Scrimgeour every day. "Do you want me to check him out as well?"

'Sharp as ever' thought Harry. "Yes, Luna," he said, "We know he is under a lot of pressure and we want to be sure he is telling us the whole truth."

"I'll do my best," said Luna.

"Will you be back in time for our date at noon?" asked Dougal. He remembered her explanation of how last night's supper had also been a date.

"I don't know," replied Luna. "It would all depend on how long it takes with the Minister. Harry told me that he expected to return in time for afternoon classes, though."

"Unless something unexpected comes up," responded Harry, "I believe we will be back in plenty of time for lunch." Harry contemplated the odd but apparent fact that Dougal, né Draco, the once proud and arrogant son of Arch-Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and facilitator of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, was now totally entranced (in the non-magical sense of the word) with a girl who was arguably the least sought after and unfathomable female in the school, with the possible exception of Professor Trelawney. It was strange how true the old saying that life is what happens while you are busy making other plans turned out to be.

"So, is it for some big, important reason that you need to see the Minister of Magic or something a bit less momentous?" asked Ginny. She had finally finished her business with Neville, it seemed.

"You wouldn't believe how boring it's going to be," said Ron, grimacing.

"Hey!" said Hermione, a bit too loudly. Quietly, she added, "I worked for almost five solid hours coming up with those modifications, Ronald. I'd appreciate it if you didn't describe my hard work as 'boring'."

"Unfortunately," added Harry in a whisper, "that's about all we can say about it. It's 'boring', but top secret. At least out in the open like this. Sorry."

Such a sudden ending to their conversation left a bit of an uncomfortable vacuum in the group. Since they all had finished their breakfast, including Ron, those heading for London left the rest with their farewells. They returned to their favorite alcove and, adjusting themselves properly so that Harry could make a long distance apparition with three passengers, popped to the offices of the Quibbler.

It was still a few minutes before nine o'clock so the elderly receptionist had yet to arrive. Linus Lovegood, however, could be heard working in his office. Luna lead the way and walked right into his private office without so much as a knock. She was, of course, his daughter and could do that sort of thing.

"Hello, Daddy," she said, beaming at him as she ran around his desk into his automatically opening arms.

"Luna," he cried, giving her a welcoming hug. He gazed at his daughter for a few more seconds before noticing that she was not alone.

"What's happened?" he asked, understandably. It was unusual, even for Quibbler standards, for so many students to suddenly appear in London at this time of year, and on a school day, as well.

"Good morning, Linus," said Harry, offering his hand. "We needed to see you and, as we were going to be in the neighborhood anyway, hoped that this would be a good time for you."

Linus took Harry's hand and shook it, distractedly. "Always a good time to speak with you, Harry," he said. "I see you have also brought your lovely bride. Good morning, Hermione."

"Good morning," replied Hermione. "The photos from our wedding were very good, all things considered." She had her dress torn to pieces while riding Harry into battle.

"Let's say they were interesting," suggested Linus. Turning to Ron, he said, "You were at the wedding, too, I believe. A Weasley, of course but the first name escapes me."

Luna jumped in and said, "This is Ronald Weasley, Daddy. I used to have quite the crush on him." This comment caused Ron to blush, of course.

Linus offered them chairs and got down to business. "Now, Harry," he began. "What exactly is it that you needed to talk to me about?" He looked at his daughter, perceiving that it involved her.

"Well, Linus," started Harry, "we have found on a couple of occasions that Luna has been uniquely qualified to offer assistance with the activities in which we are currently engaged. At the time, her help was spontaneous and immediately necessary. She now has the opportunity to help us on a long term basis. I don't mean to be rude but the exact nature of her help should remain secret. I can say that it will involve discussions with captured Death Eaters who will be in a cell and under armed guard while Luna is in their presence. Every effort will be made to ensure her safety but the unexpected can happen. It would also make her a higher priority target for Lord Voldemort if he found out that she was aiding us. For her part, Luna has pledged her help. She is underage, though, and we wanted to ask for your permission to allow her to join us."

Linus sat back in his chair, thinking. The jovial demeanor he had assumed when they arrived was gone. In it's place was a troubled countenance that seemed to look back at past tragedies as well a future dangers. Eventually, he spoke. "I don't know what to think," he began. "I have done everything in my power to prevent just this sort of a decision. You have no doubt heard about the state of the country during He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's first time in power. Hope was fading everywhere. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gathered more power and followers every day while the light side faded. My lovely wife, June and I, had tough choices to make. We could flee the country, fight openly against You-Know-Who or try to lie low and hope for a miracle. In the end, it was two miracles that helped us choose to stay in England. The first was the birth of our daughter. The second was your defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named a short time later. Although the cost was high, especially to you, the rest of the wizarding world rejoiced as you only can after great suffering has been eliminated. Everything seemed to be returning to normal and for nine years, we had peace. The Quibbler during that time had more of a political slant and tended to hold those in power in the government and business to account for their actions. That all ended when my... when my wife...had her accident." Linus paused here and poured himself a glass of water. Luna gave him a squeeze on his hand but otherwise didn't interrupt.

A moment later, Linus continued. "After my wife, Luna's mother, died, I was devastated. My world was shattered and I had no anchor to hold onto. I think I must have drifted in and out of sanity for a time because I only have vague memories of a few specific events. It was probably much worse for Luna since she had not only lost her mother, watched her die, actually, but had also lost most of her father. I was useless to her for almost a year. I had just enough of my mind left to write to Hogwarts to see if Luna could start a year early. I assumed that my letter found it's way to Professor Dumbledore. He was the one who wrote back, at least. Luna would be allowed to attend that fall and I was then free to rebuild my life. I changed the Quibbler from a legitimate alternative newspaper into a sensationalist tabloid. I found that the more bizarre and outlandish stories distracted me from my real problems. I protected myself with my work. I infected Luna with my escapism as well. We spent a few summers happily searching for totally fabricated creatures across the continent. I felt that by building our own fantasy world, the real world would never again intrude and we could be happy again. Even when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned, I hoped that we would be safe from harm. The only time I allowed myself to risk my new life was when I published your account of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I didn't want to do that, you know. I knew that it would make some take notice of the Quibbler that I would rather have remain ignorant. The problem was that I had lived through those times before and sticking your head in the sand would do no good against You-Know-Who. People had to realize there was a danger or they would not take any steps to protect themselves. I didn't push the point, however, since I wanted to protect myself and daughter. My fantasy life was finally shattered a year and a half ago when Luna and the rest of you found yourselves fighting Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic. The fact that Luna could have been killed was such an anathema to me that I tried to pretend that it was an isolated event. That was proven to not be the case when last Spring, she joined with you again when the castle was invaded. You now tell me that she has helped out a few more times and you want even more."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. He was trying to decide how to respond when Linus continued.

"I have spent the last six years trying to protect both Luna and myself from further harm. We have hidden from the world and sought peace. In the end, the world found us and would not be denied. I believe she has had a much better father figure in you, Harry, than I have ever shown. I taught her to run and hide. You taught her to stand and fight. You tell me that she has offered her help to you. I know in my heart that the only way to bring an end to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.is for people to fight against him, regardless of the outcome. My daughter has worthy friends and I give my consent for her to help them." Now giving them a faint smile, he added, "Just try to keep her safe and away from the Death Eaters as much as you can."

"I will do my best to protect her," said Harry. "As I said, she will be well protected when they are near."

"What about ex-Death Eaters, Daddy?" asked Luna. "I hope I am allowed to be near them."

"What do you mean, Luna?" asked her father. "I don't think I've ever heard of any ex-Death Eaters except Professor Snape and he didn't turn out to be trustworthy."

Harry, sensing a long and difficult conversation between Luna and her father about her new boyfriend, said, "I believe you two need some privacy. We'll go check in with some friends and pick Luna up just before ten o'clock. Please remember that almost anything that Luna will tell you must remain secret. In fact, it would be better if no one knew we were here at all."

A few seconds later, Hermione, Ron and Harry were in Fred and George's office in the back of their store. Through the large window in the door, they could see Lee Jordon and a pair of witches in the process of magicing assorted goods into packages, sealing and addressing them. These were stacked onto a pallet. Though a doorway that lead into the next store, they could see several other pallets just like them apparently awaiting shipment.

Harry, not wishing to be seen by the unknown witches, quickly put on his invisibility cloak. It was decided that Harry and Hermione would wait in the office while Ron, being a Weasley and thus having the appearance of a vested interest in stopping by, went to find Fred or George.

"They seem to be doing exceptionally well, don't they?" commented Hermione. She had done some quick computations and deduced that they were packing about a box per minute with no signs of slowing down.

"I'd have to agree with that," said Harry. "I wonder how the retail store is doing?"

"I would assume that it is also quite busy or either George or Fred would be back here helping with the owl order business," said Hermione, logically.

It turned out that she was correct. After a good ten minutes, Ron and a very harried looking George returned to the office. George quickly pulled the shade on the window and Harry was able to remove the invisibility cloak. George sat down and poured himself a glass of butterbeer before remembering to offer some to the rest of them. Hermione, sensing that George could use a break, distributed the glasses.

"Thanks, Hermione," said George, leaning back in his chair. "I can't wait until November. Mind you," he amended, "I appreciate the business but the Halloween rush is incredible this year. Everyone wants their party favors, you know. Canary Creams, Owl Howlers, Toad Jump Fizzers... " He waved his hands to indicate everything else," all just flying off the shelves." He then got down to business. "So what brings you lot to London on, unless I've completely lost it, a school day?"

"We had an appointment with Scrimgeour," explained Harry. "We need him to help us out a little. A few other errands that we can't really talk about here. I wanted to check in with you and Fred to see if you had anything new up your sleeves that might be helpful. I also wanted to warn you that those maps might be useless soon and we would need a complete redesign when we discovered how the Dark Marks would be replaced. You might not have time to work on that now, I suppose."

George looked at Harry seriously. "Harry," he said, "we still have locks on the doors. If we can't find time to work for you we'll close the store for a month. We'll find the time to help you, mate. Just let us know what you need."

"I can't expect you to close your store to help me," exclaimed Harry. "You're doing great, it seems. Remus should be able to sort it out."

"We will all sort it out," said George, firmly. "We owe you everything, Harry. We're just nineteen, you know. A slight delay in making our fortune won't hurt a thing. Come to think of it, it's too late to delay making our fortune. What I'm trying to say is, just do what you need to do and we'll help as much as we can." He got up and peeked through the window. Pulling his wand, he performed a quick silencing charm and sat back down.

"We don't really have a lot of new combat goods but I have one item you might like. It's a force multiplier. They come in sets up to ten." He pulled open a desk drawer and removed two small orbs. Handing one to Ron, he said, "this is just a small demonstration, mind you, but with more, the results are incredible." Tapping his orb with his wand, he said, "Multiplixus."

Instantly, a third Weasley appeared in the room. He was definitely a Weasley, the hair and physical structure were unmistakable, but he didn't seem to be a Weasley they were familiar with. Taller than George but shorter than Ron, his demeanor seemed to be slightly cocky but in a confused sort of way.

"He's designed to blend in with any group. The way it works is, the physical characteristics of the people holding the orbs are blended into a new image. His actions," George waved his wand wildly, resulting in a moderate wave from the pseudo-Weasley, "will mimic whatever both of the donor parties are doing at the time."

"That's fantastic," said Hermione, reaching out and putting her hand through the illusion. "They won't be able to fight but they can draw fire from the rest of us."

"It won't work on Voldemort," said Harry," but the average Death Eater would believe it, I suppose." At the confused and, in George's case, hurt looks, he explained. "I can tell that it isn't a real person. I can sense it, you see. Voldemort will probably have the same ability. That doesn't make it less useful, though."

"I guess that it shouldn't surprise me that you can see through it, Harry," said George. "Anyway, it will make only one phantom per pair but you can be part of as many pairs as you want. For just two people, you can only have one but with three of you, you get three phantoms; with four you would get six and so on. The most you can get is forty-five phantoms with a group of ten. They would all look different than each other but still look like they were part of the group since they would sort of match two real people."

"They're great, George," said Harry. "We'll take a set and try it on our commandoes." At George's look, Harry said, "I'll explain another time. Let's just say we happen to have ten fighters who can take on almost anyone as it is. If you can make them look like there are over fifty of them, the Death Eaters will leave boot prints on Voldemort's back as they try to run away."

George opened the door a crack and, waving his wand, summoned a set of the orbs from the shelves. Handing it to Harry, he said, "If you are training your own troops, we'll try to work on some more combat related items. It's not our usual cup of tea but we can do it."

"Thanks," said Harry, reaching for his money pouch. "How much are the orbs?"

"They're free," said George, "and if you leave a knut, I'll tell Mum on you."

They all laughed. "Anything but that," said Harry. Looking at his watch, he shouted, "Bloody hell! It's five to ten!" Bidding George goodbye, they apparated back to the Quibbler office.

Luna was sitting in a chair next to Linus. They both looked up when Harry and crew arrived but neither seemed to be surprised. Luna gave her father a hug goodbye and went to take her position next to Harry. With Luna and Ron each taking an arm and Harry holding on to Hermione around the waist, they popped into the private office of Minister of Magic Scrimgeour. Harry noticed immediately that there was another, unexpected and unwanted guest in the room; Dolores Umbridge.

Spinning around quickly and drawing his wand, Harry was surprised that he didn't see the hated hag. The sensation was unmistakable, though. He continued his scan of the room and finished by facing the Minister of Magic. He needed time to gather himself together and think.

"A bit more jumpy than usual," said Rufus Scrimgeour. "Nerves starting to give out?" He didn't seem to be overly concerned about the possibility.

"Just normal paranoia, Minister," retorted Harry, his eyes still unfocused as his Fawkes-based senses checked and rechecked the room. "I find the less I'm at ease in new locations, the healthier I remain."

"A fair point," conceded Scrimgeour. Turning to Hermione, he said, "I understand that I have you to thank for the counterspell that Sergeant Tonks demonstrated yesterday, Mrs. Potter. As a former Auror, I attended the show as well. It will, no doubt, allow us to have more productive interrogations with a few of the Death Eaters we have captured."

"Thank you, Minister," said Hermione. "It has helped us with our projects, as well." She still had some residual bad feelings about Scrimgeour but the kind words helped her to forgive him, if only a little.

"No doubt it has," agreed the Minister. "I believe that I have not yet been introduced to this young lady," he said, indicating Luna.

"Oh, sorry, Minister," said Harry. "Minister Scrimgeour, please meet Miss Luna Lovegood. Luna, I would like to present the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour." Luna and Scrimgeour shook hands briefly.

Luna said, "Pleased to meet you, Minister Scrimgeour. I've heard a lot about you." Harry noticed that she had placed her unused hand in the pocket of her robes while she was talking to the Minister. He wondered if she was clutching the garlic or maybe a cross.

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood," replied Scrimgeour, politely. Looking back to Harry, he asked, "Now, what exactly is the purpose of this meeting?" He sat in his chair and indicate the others should do the same.

"Before we get to the main reasons for our being here," said Harry, "I'd like to know how many people you have informed that we would be seeing you."

"Well," began Scrimgeour, "since you didn't mention anything about it being a secret, I scheduled it as a normal meeting. My staff would be aware of it, of course, to prevent scheduling others in this time period. As far as specifically telling someone outside of my office that you were expected, I don't believe I've told anyone."

"Thank you, Minister," said Harry. "Before we proceed, we need to discuss and act upon the reason that Luna has accompanied us. You may not be aware, but a certain Dark Lord seems to want me dead."

Scrimgeour laughed. "It seems that I've heard about that somewhere," he replied.

"Yes," said Harry. "Anyway, it seems that Luna can sense a couple of things about people. For one, she can tell if you are leaning more towards good or evil and to what extent. Her other ability is to tell if she is being lied to." Harry intentionally paused here to simulate a reluctance to continue that he did not feel. "It is nothing personal, Minister, but I'm afraid she will have to ask you a few questions."

Scrimgeour seemed to be neither amused nor insulted. As an auror, he was taught, by Mad-eye Moody as it turned out, to practice the art of constant vigilance. He reasoned that if he were in Harry's shoes, he wouldn't trust anyone either. Still, he was the Minister of Magic and Harry was, technically, still a school boy.

"And if I refuse?" he asked, to maintain control of the meeting and to stall for time to think up a better response.

Harry turned to Luna. "What do you think so far, Luna?" he asked. He faced Luna but was watching the Minister out of the corner of his eye.

"I think that he is slightly darker than you, Harry," said Luna. "He is still more good than bad, though. I don't think he seriously intends to refuse your request that I question him."

"In that case, Minister, we should stop wasting each other's time and proceed. We both have a lot to discuss." He had a flash of an idea and acted. "Before we start," he said, "I think we should check Luna's reading ability with some questions that have obvious answers, just to make sure we don't make any mistakes."

This caught Ron and Hermione by surprise. Luna, however, didn't seem to find this request the least bit out of the ordinary. Harry said, "Luna, please ask the Minister some specific questions. Perhaps you could ask the number of people in the room."

Luna nodded and said, "Minister. Counting yourself, how many people are in this room?" She stared intently at him.

"I make it at five," said Scrimgeour.

"Ask him if he has anyone taking notes on this conversation," commanded Harry.

"Do you have anyone taking notes while we are talking?" asked Luna.

Scrimgeour looked a bit uneasy at the apparent slant to the question but again answered. "No, I don't have anyone taking notes of anything."

Harry spun around and cast a powerful stunner at the wall behind him. A loud thump was heard and an indentation was seen to appear in the wall.

"Accio invisibility cloak!" cried Harry. A cloak flew across the room and landed in his hand. Dolores Umbridge's body lay before them, quite unconscious.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45 – Taking Umbridge

Still September 30th, 1997

Scrimgeour had his wand out a moment after Harry drew his. Years as an auror had conditioned him to react instinctively. Fortunately, he controlled himself a beat before he stunned Harry. Recognizing the real threat in the room, he came around his desk and examined his Senior Undersecretary. Wasting no time, he pulled up her left sleeve. She bore no mark. Scrimgeour got up and looked towards his office door.

"Just a moment, Minister," said Harry. He had perceived that the Minister was about to call for aurors to take Umbridge away for questioning. "I'd like to question her before the people who follow the rules have their turn." Harry smiled at the momentarily confused look on Scrimgeour's face until the Minister, too, smiled in turn.

"Perhaps it would be best if we both question her now," suggested Scrimgeour. "I have you scheduled as the last meeting of the morning. We have almost three hours until my one o'clock appointment."

"Just one moment, Minister," said Hermione. Facing Luna, she asked, "Did the Minister answer the last two questions truthfully, Luna?" They obviously weren't answered accurately but she wanted to see if Scrimgeour believed what he had said.

"The Minister wasn't lying to me," replied Luna. "I don't believe he knew that Professor Umbridge was in the room." She looked at Harry with an unusually inquisitive expression. "You seemed to know she was here the moment we arrived, Harry. How did you do that?"

"I'd rather not say, at the moment," said Harry, glancing uncomfortably at Scrimgeour. "I'll tell you when we get back to Hogwarts."

"I'm not your enemy, Harry," said Scrimgeour, "although my choice in staff might lead you to believe otherwise. Speaking of which..." He stooped down to look closer at Umbridge. She had received the full force of a Harry Potter stunner and would not recover for quite some time.

"Minister," said Harry. "Do you have any Veritaserum in this office?"

"Unfortunately not," replied Scrimgeour. "It's a regulated potion as I'm sure you're aware."

"In that case, Minister," said Harry, "please secure this room against any unwanted interruptions or eavesdroppers. I'll go to our headquarters and fetch a bottle."

"Will do," said Scrimgeour without mentioning, or even considering, that Harry was going to once again bypass his anti-apparition wards to procure an illegal item that would be used in the presence and with the tacit permission of the Minister of Magic.

"Pick up some Polyjuice Potion, too," said Hermione. "She might have intended to meet someone after our meeting."

"Okay," said Harry. With a twirl and a pop, he was gone.

"I think I should get a refund from that fraud," muttered Scrimgeour as he walked to his door and, opening it, called out to someone that he didn't wish to be disturbed and asked them to have his floo temporarily disabled. He then cast what Hermione recognized as a silencing charm on the room. A few moments later, Harry returned with the potions.

Ron noticed that Harry had brought three potions, not two. Examining them, he asked, "You brought a pain killing potion for her?" He knew that Umbridge would awaken with a massive headache but he didn't feel sympathetic enough to care.

Harry shrugged. "Between the stunner and the wall, she might not be in shape to be questioned without it," he explained. He walked over to the lump that was Dolores Umbridge, picked up the wand that was near her body and pocketed it. Pointing his own wand at her, he said, "Enervate."

A low moan was heard as she started to regain consciousness. This quickly escalated into an annoying whine as she started to sit up. "My head," she whimpered as she opened her eyes. She had rolled over in the process of righting herself and was now facing the corner in which she had been hiding. "Where am I?" She looked around a bit and noticed Harry.

"Potter," she snarled. "You've attacked me, you little brat. I'll have you arrested for this." She stopped talking for a moment to allow her eyes to refocus.

"I'm afraid that you're the one who will be arrested, Dolores," said Harry.

"How dare you address me in such a manner. I'm the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic," said Umbridge. "You're just a schoolboy. I'll have you sent to Azkaban and not even your little bitch of a girlfriend will be able to save you."

"That's 'witch'," said Hermione, "and I'm his wife now." She walked around to stand next to Harry.

"Yes, I know," sneered Umbridge. "Managed to trap a pureblood, didn't you, you little mudblood freak." She reached into her pocket.

"Looking for this?" asked Harry, pulling her wand out of his pocket.

"Give that to me!" she shouted. She reached for her wand which Harry placed back in his pocket.

"Yes, give it to her," said Scrimgeour, mockingly. "We could do with a laugh. Dolores Umbridge against Harry Potter. The shortest duel of the century."

"Minister," she cried, clearly missing the sarcasm in his voice, "thank goodness you're unharmed. I was worried that these children might do something and tried to be in a position to protect you."

"Boy, are you a lousy liar," said Luna.

"My feelings, exactly, Miss Lovegood," said the Minister, under his breath to Luna. He turned a friendly face towards Umbridge. Indicating one of his side chairs, he said "Come and have a seat, Dolores. You should rest a moment after your ordeal."

"Thank you, Minister," she said as she staggered towards the indicated chair. She glanced evilly at Harry as she sat down.

Scrimgeour returned to his chair as Ron, Luna and Hermione took the remaining side chairs. Harry summoned one of his spare chairs and sat down directly in front of Umbridge.

"Now, Dolores," began Harry.

"I've told you already, Potter," said Umbridge, "you are to address me as Senior Undersecretary Umbridge or, if you prefer, Professor Umbridge."

"I'll be addressing you as Assistant Muck Bucket Scrubber if you don't start answering a few questions quickly and completely," stated Harry, sharply. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for her response.

"How dare you talk to me in that manner?" she asked in her most affronted tone. Turning towards Scrimgeour, she asked, "Minister, don't you think it would be prudent to call a few aurors to take these miscreants to a holding cell until they are tried and sent to Azkaban?"

"Certainly, Dolores," said Scrimgeour. "Harry, could you do the honours?" He sat back and enjoyed the show.

Harry pointed his wand at Umbridge and asked, "Dolores, do you see the kitten that we glued to the ceiling?"

Umbridge looked up, aghast, and exclaimed, "You what?" She maintained that position as Harry put his wand away and walked over to retrieve the Veritaserum.

"Should I be worried that you even thought of saying you glued a kitten to the ceiling?" asked Hermione as Harry picked up the bottle.

"I had to say something and it was all that I could come up with," explained Harry, realizing too late that he wasn't helping himself. With careful attention to his task, he let three drops fall into the open mouth of Umbridge. Putting the bottle down, he released her head from the effects of the petrification charm.

Harry waited a few seconds for the potion to take effect. When he saw her eyes glaze over, he asked, "How many times have you used the invisibility cloak to spy on Minister Scrimgeour?"

"I am not sure," she replied. "I have not kept track." At this, Scrimgeour sat up and paid full attention.

"Have you done this more than ten times?" asked Harry. He could at least narrow it down.

"Yes," came the immediate reply.

"Have you spied on the Minister more than twenty times?" was Harry's next question.

"I am not sure," replied Umbridge. "I might have done so."

"About twenty times, give or take," said Harry to the room at large. "What have you been doing with the information you have learned?"

"I have been giving most of the information to Rita Skeeter, Bertram Aubrey, Tiberius McLaggen, and Bertie Higgs," said Umbridge.

"McLaggen and Higgs?" said Scrimgeour in disbelief. "I've been on hunting trips with both of them. I thought we were friends." He obviously needed a moment to compose himself. The potion, however, wouldn't wait so Harry pressed on.

"Are they the only ones you have been spying for?" asked Harry.

"No," came the simple, but truthful, reply.

"Who else have you been giving information to," he asked.

"Professor Snape," she replied.

The room was suddenly silent as a tomb. No one spoke or even moved. Breathing itself seemed to be temporarily suspended. Harry, suddenly having his extreme dislike for the witch in front of him multiplied by his hatred of Dumbledore's murderer, could speak no more. He went back to his chair and sat down.

Ron walked over to Umbridge and asked, "What sort of information did you pass on to Snape?"

"He was interested in everything that the Minister was working on but always asked specifically if anything to do with Harry Potter was discussed," she said in the characteristic monotone achieved with Veritaserum.

"What have you told Snape about Harry?" asked Ron.

"I told him that Minister Scrimgeour has some sort of a working relationship with Potter," she replied. "I have told him that a pink-haired witch seems to be the liaison between Potter and the Minister. I told him that this witch found out about a murder of a Ministry official some time ago. I reported on a spell that was demonstrated by that witch yesterday. I told him that Potter has many Death Eater prisoners."

"Is that all?" asked Ron.

"That is all that I was able to tell Professor Snape about Potter," said Umbridge.

"How long have you been giving information to Snape?" asked Hermione.

"I have been giving what information I could to Professor Snape for about five days," she answered.

"How did you come to start dealing with a wizard that you knew was a murderer?" asked Hermione.

"He called on me one night last week," she began. "He explained that McGonagall and Potter had concocted that ridiculous abduction story to undermine the Ministry and bolster their public image. He needed to know anything I could find out about Potter in order to put both him and McGonagall in their place. I also wanted to do that since Potter was responsible for my troubles at Hogwarts and McGonagall seemed to be supporting him."

Ron looked at Hermione and said, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." He turned away from Umbridge.

"Why did you spy on Minister Scrimgeour in the first place?" asked Hermione. The had enough on her crimes. She wanted to know the motives.

"He was responsible for the fall of Cornelius," she said, sounding a little hurt.

"What did you hope to accomplish?" asked Hermione.

"I hoped that if Minister Scrimgeour were brought down, either Cornelius or someone who could restore his name would be put in power," she said.

Harry had recovered enough to ask one more question. "When and where were you going to give information from this meeting to Snape?" Okay, so it was two questions.

"I expect to see Professor Snape sometime tonight in my home," she replied.

A thought crossed Harry's mind that was so shocking he had to ask about it. "You aren't dating Snape, are you?" The two of them engaged in typical dating behavior was almost an emetic thought.

"Not yet," replied Umbridge, "although that may happen soon. He has stopped by every night and he always seems quite eager to talk to me."

Shaking off that line of questioning, Harry asked his final question. "Does Snape come alone when he visits you?"

"Yes," said Umbridge. "I have given him access to the floo in my sitting room so he has no need for further protections."

Harry turned to Minister Scrimgeour and asked, "Minister, are you able to find her address without the involvement of anyone else?"

Scrimgeour pulled out a drawer on his desk and looked at a sheet of parchment. After a moment of scanning the page, he said, "Yes. Here she is; about the tenth from the top." He handed the sheet to Harry. It was a list of Ministry officials that might need to be summoned on short notice. Harry copied the address on a scrap of parchment and handed the original back to Scrimgeour.

"The question now becomes 'What do we do with her?'," said Scrimgeour.

"Our elves have a neat trick they can do with a stunner," suggested Ron, remembering the cannon balls bouncing down the hill.

"Don't tempt me," said Harry. "Not that I wouldn't pay good money to watch, but I think we just need to hold her for now."

"Why would you need to hold her?" asked Scrimgeour. "I can have her locked up for a couple of years at the very least for what she has done."

"The problem is two-fold, Minister," said Harry. "The first part is that her knowledge that we were here, that I detected her immediately and that Luna can sense good and evil are all things that we wish to remain as secret as possible. The second part is that our information leads us to believe that an attack on Azkaban is imminent."

"I just read a report from our own intelligence people that indicated that You-Know-Who has decided to abandon his captured Death Eaters and concentrate on recruitment," countered Scrimgeour. "Of course, that was based on information that is now obsolete. Your discovery of the loyalty spell explains the rapid increase in disappearances and defections much better than the convoluted theories that were presented to me."

"Exactly, Minister," said Harry. "Hermione also believes, and we tend to agree with her, that the initial reason to enlist the aid of the Dementors was simply to get them out of Azkaban. He hasn't used them very much considering they were one of his first priorities. We feel that their departure was just to give the Ministry time to heal his forces for him. The new enchanted Death Eaters will be used to get his old ones back and then the survivors will probably be discarded."

Scrimgeour considered this. He wasn't Head of the Auror Office for nothing. He could see the tactical and strategic consequences as clearly as Ron. He said, "After that, the experienced Death Eaters would be able to control the Dementors, Inferi and whatever else he can come up with without the hassle of his having to be directly in control of everything. We had noticed, by the way, the reduction in ability of some of the Death Eaters that we had caught in regards to spontaneity and cunning. If he can recover his old followers, he would be much more of a threat."

"That leads us into one of the reasons that we wanted to see you, Minister," said Harry. "Without causing you any more grief by working with us, we thought that it might be prudent to transfer some of the old guard Death Eaters into our facilities. That would give us a broader and more experienced base to try to find out the information that we need but would also prevent Voldemort from being able to get everyone even if his raid on Azkaban were successful."

Scrimgeour nodded. "I agree in principle. I'll see what I can come up with that would pass as a reason for moving some of them that wouldn't arouse suspicions. I'd just do it by Executive Order except my so-called friends have apparently been undermining my authority to the point where I don't have enough political power at the moment to withstand much scrutiny."

"Don't take too long, Minister," said Ron. "If Voldemort already knows that we have discovered his loyalty spell and that we can counteract it, he might not wait very long to attack."

"I can't do anything immediately," said Scrimgeour. "It would be too obvious if I met with you and all of a sudden fifty Death Eaters are transferred." He thought for a moment. "I think that I could have some sort of a story in place and begin transfers in a week or so. Without my personal spy," he indicated Umbridge, "I should be able to pull something off."

"A week is a long time, Minister, " said Hermione. "Umbridge revealed the loyalty spell information to Snape last night." She then assumed a contemplative look for a second and then said, "Unless, we use the hag to give him a reason to wait." She turned to Ron.

Ron looked back and asked, "Why do I spend most of my time thinking 'If I were Voldemort...'?" Everyone laughed. "Let's see," he said. "If I were Voldemort and I found out that my methods for enforced recruitment were not only discovered but reversible and I had already strongly believed that my Death Eaters were able to be detected within a certain range, I would probably attack immediately before things got even worse. The question we have to answer is 'What would make Voldemort wait?'. As Hermione pointed out, we have direct access to his inner circle with the help of Umbridge. We need to feed him some information that would make him believe that it is in his best interest to wait."

Scrimgeour, who was listening to all of this said, "The other question you have not asked that may help is 'Why does Voldemort want to attack Azkaban?'" After a brief smile, he said, "It sure feels good to be able to say 'Voldemort' without everyone coming unglued around me. That was one thing that Dumbledore and I agreed on. I could never get any of the sheep working here to agree, though."

"Things are starting to get better at Hogwarts, at least," said Hermione. "It still freaks out people outside of our circle when we say it but more are getting used to it. As to your question, I assume you know that Voldemort wants to attack Azkaban to recover his old Death Eaters. I think I see where you are going. If he thought that they were already gone, he wouldn't have any reason to go there."

"So we get Umbridge to tell Snape they have already been moved?" asked Harry. "Why would they be moved?"

"To have the counterspell cast on them and then to be reinterviewed," replied Ron. "He'd also be getting conflicting reports on whether or not they have actually been moved. He'd spend a week just trying to find out if and where you sent them. In the meantime, you could increase security at Azkaban and if a few of his Death Eaters didn't come back from the secret location, who would know, or even care?"

"Oh, there would be some who would know and care," said Scrimgeour, tiredly. "It is one of the most puzzling parts of public service in a time of war; there are those who will compromise national security for political gain. After I leak the story of moving known Death Eaters someplace secret for further interrogations, a half dozen members of the Wizengamot will make public demands that the location be made known and all that is found out discussed in open session." He waved his arms wildly above his head as he said this.

"But you'd have to be insane to agree to that," exclaimed Ron.

"Of course," agreed Scrimgeour, "and they know that. I'd refuse and they would then say I was hiding something, which, of course, I am. The purpose of the exercise would be to weaken me so that one of their favorites might be made Minister of Magic the next election."

"I'm glad I'm not a politician," said Harry. "I'm afraid we'll have to leave handling the Wizengamot to you, Minister."

"Speaking of handling the Wizengamot," said Hermione, "we have a few, well, adjustments that we would like to have made to some existing laws."

"What sort of adjustments?" asked Scrimgeour, skeptically.

"Fairly minor ones, I assure you," said Hermione. She handed him her list. "This is very secret and the changes would have to be made in as ordinary and routine way as possible to avoid notice but the results would be dramatic on our end."

Scrimgeour looked over the list. "I don't understand. Some of these look like you're merely correcting the punctuation. How can that help you so much?"

Harry looked at the others. He had decided during this meeting that despite past encounters, Scrimgeour, above all else, wanted to see Voldemort brought down. He looked to Ron and Hermione to see if they agreed.

The elder teens glanced among themselves for just a second before reaching their consensus. Ron said, "I think that a limited explanation would be okay, Harry."

"I agree but I just want to get one more vote," said Harry. "Luna. You have heard everything that everyone has said. When it comes down to it, can we trust Minister Scrimgeour?"

Luna did not answer right away. Instead, she addressed the Minister of Magic. "I have seen a great deal of how Harry and his friends are fighting Voldemort and I have guessed more than he suspects about his ultimate goals. I believe that in the end, it will be a battle between Harry and Voldemort that will decide the fate of the world. My question for you is this: Will you help Harry, even if it causes you troubles here at the Ministry?"

Minister Scrimgeour looked at Luna thoughtfully. Eventually, he said, "Miss Lovegood, I have been Minister of Magic for about a year and a half but I was an auror for almost a quarter of a century. I have a limp and many of my friends and colleagues are in their graves because of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I will do what I can to help Harry and his friends fight Voldemort just as he has already helped me and it will be the ones who oppose us who will have the trouble."

September 30th, 1997

Later that evening

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the sitting room of Dolores Umbridge, waiting for a visit from Snape. Her house, like that of most reasonably established or well-to-do witches or wizards was fairly isolated from her nearest neighbors. It was, however, just the sort of place Harry had expected. The house was ringed by flowers and bushes, her property border circumscribed by a white picket fence. He had a vague memory of overhearing a story told to Dudley by his aunt when a very young child about just such a house which was the home, ironically enough, of a sweet talking but evil witch.

Cookies and cake were set out in anticipation of Snape's arrival along with some mead. Hermione was wondering exactly what odds she would have given this particular scenario yesterday when they were planning their trip. She wished that Snape would hurry up and get here. It was not, however, for the reason that Umbridge would have the same desire. Dolores Umbridge had lowered her standards to the point of Snape out of desperation. Hermione, on the other hand, just wanted to stop being Umbridge. She had been obligated to take two large doses of the polyjuice potion already and if Snape didn't arrive soon, a third would have to be consumed. She comforted herself with the thought that she was having a better time than the real Umbridge. Harry had told her how, after taking her back to their headquarters, he had decided to give Filtch a thrill and threw them both in the same cell. She thought that this could be considered cruel punishment but she wasn't sure who would be considered the victim.

Harry was sitting on one side of the room, his wand resting on his knee and his invisibility cloak covering him. He was reviewing the major aspects of his meeting with the Minister from the discovery of Umbridge to Scrimgeour agreeing, in the end, to allow twenty of the original Death Eaters to immediately find their way into Harry's care; the most notable being Fenrir Greyback. Greyback was one of the oldest and most feared of the group and Harry had high hopes that he would have valuable information regarding the past movements of Voldemort. After a suitable cover story was fabricated, a further thirty Death Eaters would join them. This would bring Harry's share of the old guard up to about a third. The transfers would take place that night with the help of the Hogwarts Free Elves. Much to Hermione's annoyance, the changes to the house-elf laws were able to be made by Scrimgeour himself through executive order since it only involved minor adjustments to property laws and didn't legally affect any 'real' people.

Ron sat in a chair on the other side of the room, also with his wand on his knee. His thoughts revolved around his current obsession; mainly that he now had his own invisibility cloak.

As the clock on the mantle approached eight o'clock, the fireplace beneath blazed forth with green light which reflected eerily across the crystal kittens lining the nearby shelves.

Hermione immediately rose from her chair and, grabbing the platter from the table, said, "Good evening, Professor. Do sit down and have one of my cookies." She held the plate out to Snape. Beyond this greeting, which Hermione had the foresight to ask their former Headmistress about before Umbridge was taken away by Harry, they didn't have a real firm idea on how their conversations usually progressed. Hermione decided the most realistic, although least enjoyable demeanor she could assume would be of the slightly overeager spinster that had found a live one.

Snape looked down his greasy nose at the still slightly warm cookies. They were chocolate chip; his favorite. It had been months since he had last tasted any. With any luck at all, he would have the whole tray. Trying to not show too much enthusiasm lest the aging blob in front of him get any ideas, he smiled indulgently and took one. "Thank you, Headmistress," he said as he took a seat next to the fireplace.

Hermione smiled and set the rest of the cookies down, taking one for herself. "I have some milk in my icebox if you would like some," she offered. Hermione tried to smile warmly. It wasn't easy, considering to whom she was speaking.

To the surprise of the teens, Snape agreed. "That would be very nice. Thank you, Headmistress."

"Please call me Dolores, Severus," said Hermione, heading out to the kitchen.

"Certainly, Dolores," replied Snape, smiling thinly. He nibbled on his cookie while contemplating the situation. Clearly, Umbridge had shown interest in the last couple of days in pursuing a more intimate relationship. He had not seriously considered reciprocating until now. He might have a limitless supply of treats if only he could do something about her appearance. He considered sprinkling her with pixie dust and making her beautiful. In her case, of course, it would take fifty pound bags.

Harry and Ron (and Hermione for that matter) were all surprised at the friendly attitude of Snape. Surely he wasn't really interested in Umbridge romantically, was he? Hermione busied herself in the kitchen, retrieving glasses and the promised milk. In the living room, Snape walked over to the desk in the corner, borrowed a quill and some ink and wrote a comment on a scrap of parchment that he had pulled out of his pocket. He stared at it for a moment but before Harry could move into a position that allowed him to read it, Snape had already put down the quill and the parchment was back in his pocket. A few moments later, Hermione returned with the milk.

"Here you are, Severus," she said as she handed him his glass. Snape looked closely at her for a second before taking the glass.

"Thank you, Dolores," he said, sipping the milk. "Were you able to attend the meeting between Potter and Scrimgeour?" He munched on the cookie.

"I did manage to, well, 'listen in' on their conversation," she said, adding just a hint of secretive glee.

"What was discussed?" asked Snape, simply.

"Well," began Hermione, "they discussed that new spell that the mudblood came up with that did something to turn the Death Eaters against You-Know-Who. It seems that it doesn't work on all of them the same. Potter said that some of his prisoners didn't show any change at all and remained loyal."

"Interesting," said Snape, never taking his eyes off of her. "Was Granger able to offer some possible solutions to that problem?"

"No, she didn't," said Hermione.

"That's surprising," said Snape. "She is usually the first to jump to her feet with the answer to any problem. Perhaps she isn't quite as smart as she thinks she is."

This caught all three teens by surprise. Hermione, staying in character but still rattled, said, "No doubt, Severus." Trying to change the subject a little, she said, "They do intend to cast the spell on all of the Death Eaters currently in Azkaban, anyway."

"Do they?" asked Snape. "What do they hope to achieve?" He sat back in his chair.

"I'm sure I don't know, Severus," said Hermione, "but they are moving them to a new location to do it."

"A new location?" asked Snape. "Why not leave them in Azkaban? Surely, that would be the logical and most secure location."

"That's what I thought," said Hermine, agreeably. "They seem to think that there would be some in the Ministry that would interfere with the interrogations if they were conducted in a known location. The Minister said that he has a secret detention center that he could use for that purpose."

"Do you know where this detention center is located?" asked Snape.

"He didn't say," said Hermione. "Potter said that he has a place he could take them, as well."

"I see," said Snape. "Was that the purpose of the meeting? Merely to discuss a spell and the interrogations of a few Death Eaters?" He didn't look like he believed that to be the case.

"No," said Hermione, lowering her voice and leaning closer to Snape. They had discussed before Snape arrived that a further and more important purpose for the meeting with the Minister might have to be conveyed. Since they didn't want to mention house-elves at all, they came up with an alternate reason. "Potter suggested, and the Minister agreed, that it was too dangerous to have the older Death Eaters remain available for rescue. With the number of Death Eaters that You-Know-Who has lost lately, they think that he might try to get some of his old ones back. The Minister and Potter have agreed that sometime late next week, after they have been interrogated for this one last time, they will all be permanently obliviated." She leaned back in her chair, waiting for Snape's reaction.

Snape sat as if in thought for a moment. "How does he expect to get permission from the Wizengamot to do something so, ah, illegal?" he asked, finally.

"They don't intend to tell anyone," said Hermione. "I think that Minister Scrimgeour must be under some sort of a spell from Potter. I knew he was ambitious from the way he overthrew Cornelius, but I can't believe he would be so ruthless without some sort of outside influence."

"Possibly," agreed Snape, "although it won't matter to the Dark Lord."

Hermione was so surprised by this comment that she actually looked it. Snape asked, "What seems to be the matter, Dolores?"

"I'm just a bit surprised, that's all," she replied. "Why wouldn't Vol, I mean You-Know-Who care if his older Death Eaters were permanently obliviated?" She hoped that her slip had gone unnoticed.

"Because the newer Death Eaters are performing very well," answered Snape. "Now that we know that Potter can overcome our recruitment spell, it is merely a matter of keeping him away from them until the time is right." He paused a moment before continuing. "I do have a question along those lines, Dolores," he said, leaning closer. Hermione also leaned in. She realized that in a private residence, there was no point to leaning in to talk but she also realized that Umbridge wouldn't think of that.

"Yes, Severus?" she prompted. She tried to look helpful.

"We had two of our men fail to return last night," said Snape. "They were not in a highly populated location and it would be unlikely that they would be discovered by chance. Did Potter mention anything about capturing anyone yesterday?"

Hermione had a split second to make her decision. She hoped that it was the right one. "Yes," she said, "he did mention that he had stumbled on two Death Eaters while en route to his headquarters. I don't believe that he mentioned where they were found or how they were recognized." She hoped that would be specific enough to lead Snape into believing that the Fortress of Solitude was a real place while being vague enough to protect their secrets.

"If he didn't give any details, why did he bring it up at all?" asked Snape. He was looking at Hermione as if to divine any deception.

"It was just in passing," lied Hermione, nervously. "The Minister had made a comment about how Harry had been on vacation and he said that he had captured two Death Eaters just yesterday."

"I see," said Snape. "Is there anything else?" He looked at her expectantly.

"Nothing," said Hermione, relieved that she might be able to end this encounter. Her nerves were starting to become frazzled.

"Very well," said Snape. "I shall return tomorrow night. I might have some news that will interest you." He stood and stepped towards the fireplace.

"I'll look forward to seeing you again, Severus," said Hermione. She followed him over to see him off.

Snape grabbed a small handful of Floo Powder and almost threw it into the fire before stopping to make one last request. "I was wondering, Dolores," he began, taking a subdued stance, "if I might take a few of your cookies to share with the others. We so seldom get home-cooked food, as you can imagine, and it would mean so much to them." He smiled and waited for her reply.

Hermione, stunned for just a moment, went over and gathered up the tray. She handed it to him at a total loss for the appropriate comment to make in this situation. Snape, with a strangely knowing smile, thanked her and left.

Author's Note: I must acknowledge the source of the comment about needing fifty pound bags of pixie dust to make Umbridge beautiful is taken from the comic strip Broomhilda by Russell Myers. It was too good to pass up, though.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46 – Preparing for Battle

Still September 30th, 1997 but only for a while longer

Late that night, Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting in their office, discussing the day's events with Tonks and Remus. "Well, I'm still glad that we won't have all of the original Death Eaters in one location," said Harry. After their conversation with Snape, it appeared to be less likely that an attack on Azkaban would take place. This did have the effect of bringing up another question.

"So what is the point of the forced recruitment, then?" asked Ron. "I was sure from the way they were, or actually, weren't giving the new Death Eaters any sort of decent training that we were correct in our assumption that they would be used for some sort of major battle with their overwhelming numbers and that would be it. Azkaban and the Fortress are the only logical choices. I suppose that portkey beacon would tend to suggest that he is still planning to hit the North Pole, but why so many recruits?" He scratched the red stubble on his chin. "I just don't get it."

"There is, of course, the possibility that Snape wasn't being entirely truthful with Umbridge," said Hermione. "He might have been feeding her some false information in the fairly likely event that she was caught spying on Scrimgeour."

Ron thought about it. "I think you might be right," he said. "Even with an invisibility cloak, sooner or later, someone will detect you. It might be as simple as Mad-eye stopping by for a chat or someone like Harry with unusual abilities." This thought cheered him considerably. "I'll bet you're right, Hermione."

"That's usually the way to bet," agreed Tonks. She and Remus were summoned to the Fortress immediately after their meeting with Scrimgeour because Tonk's close involvement with Harry was now definitely known to Voldemort. This meant that she wouldn't be able to be seen in public in her normal appearance for quite some time. She was known to be engaged to Remus so he, too, would have to maintain a heightened level of concealment.

"So will you continue to meet with Snape?" asked Remus. "It is entirely possible that he will know through other sources when Umbridge fails to arrive at the Ministry tomorrow. If it appears to him that she is still somehow collecting information, he will become curious as to the means."

"I wouldn't risk it for more than a day or so," said Harry. "It doesn't sound as if there is much advantage for us. We can't trust anything he says, anyway. At the very least, though, we'll have to go back one time and attempt to capture him."

Remus pondered this and said, "I think that I would do that, Harry. There are too many things that could go wrong with trying to maintain a long term deception. Just capture him and get it over with."

"Do you think that you and I should be there for the capture?" asked Tonks of her future husband. "Snape is a formidable duelist."

"We haven't decided for sure that we will attempt a capture during the next meeting," reminded Harry. "He said something about having important news tomorrow. We might want to let it go for one more day."

"Actually," said Hermione, "he said he might have some news that would interest me. That could be anything."

"Harry and I will be there under invisibility cloaks," said Ron, "and the elves are just a call away. I don't think we would be in too much danger."

"We wouldn't," agreed Harry, "but Hermione would be the only one visible, a foot shorter and two feet wider than normal. Still, I don't know what Snape could do with both of us having our wands on him all the time. If he pulls his out, he goes down. Agreed?"

"That sounds reasonable, I guess," said Remus. "Just be careful."

"We will be," assured Harry.

"On to the next subject," said Hermione. "Now that Tonks has been positively identified as working for us, the two of you should lay low for a week or so, at least."

"I can still disguise myself," objected Tonks.

"Yes," agreed Hermione, "but anyone new who shows up just after you disappear would be suspect. I think a week or so would throw off anyone watching for your return under different forms. It would also give the two of you time to work on a new project that we just started."

"A new project?" asked Remus. "Aren't you busy enough, what with school work, replacing limbs, training elves and fighting Voldemort?"

"I've actually cut back on the limb thing," said Harry. "Madam Pomfrey gave me tonight off and said she only has four new cases scheduled over the next two weeks. I guess we're catching up."

"They'll probably still trickle in for quite some time," said Tonks, "but I'll bet you're glad to have some of your nights free." She winked at Hermione.

"It was never a problem," said Hermione. "I'm proud of Harry for all the people he's helped." She leaned over and gave him a kiss.

"You mentioned a new project," stated Remus. "What is that, exactly?" He wanted to stay focused and get to bed at a reasonable time.

"Well," said Ron, "we were thinking that if we start disenchanting some of these newest recruits, they wouldn't really have many options other that staying with us. Hermione asked Oliver Wood about the possibility of starting up a fighting force of these blokes that could work for us. Strictly volunteer, of course. It would be one more resource we could field if necessary. We talked to Oliver this afternoon and he agreed that he'd like to join up since it is unreasonable to assume he could just pick up his life where he left off without Voldemort noticing."

"So maybe the two of you could take charge of that group, talk with Oliver and come up with some training and options about when they would be used instead of, or supporting, the elves," concluded Harry.

"Sounds good," said Remus. "I'll talk with Wood in the morning."

"You'll be able to start recruiting by Sunday," said Hermione. "Madam Pomfrey and Professor Triffle think they have the potion figured out so that we'll stop being so hard on the Death Eaters when we disenchant them. It'll take a few days to brew, though."

Although it was the original topic and purpose of the meeting, it was now fairly late so they decided to forgo viewing or discussing their new prisoners until they had time, tomorrow. Remus, however, didn't look too happy at the prospect; he was in no hurry to meet Fenrir Greyback, again.

October 1st, 1997

The next morning, Harry and Hermione awoke early. Dressing quickly, they headed down to their office. They wanted to inspect the new prisoners and make sure that the elves knew that this group needed to be watched with more attention to security than the more recent enlistees. This was especially true for Greyback.

"Did you remember to place extra anti-apparition wards around the cells of the new Death Eaters?" asked Harry when he noticed Slider, apparently also engaged in checking to make sure everything was up to speed. He realized a moment later that asking a house-elf if they had done something that they were asked to do was fairly insulting. If Slider felt a bit vexed at the question, he hid it well.

"We is doing as Harry Potter asked," he said. "We is making sure that none of these dark witches and wizards is getting out."

"Thanks, Slider," said Harry. "Sorry for asking but I'm just a little on edge with these particular Death Eaters. Voldemort has been a little more secretive and selective in his activities this time but these Death Eaters were the ones who went around indiscriminately killing anyone they chose. I don't want to see that happen again."

"I is understanding, Harry Potter," replied Slider.

"Thank you, Slider," said Harry. "Did any of them cause any trouble during the night?"

"One is hitting Jumper when Jumper is bringing his supper, Harry Potter," said Slider.

"Is Jumper alright?" asked Hermione, looking around to see if he was nearby.

"Jumper is not being hurt, Mistress Hermione," replied Slider, "but we is making that wizard not move when we is going into that wizard's room."

"That sounds like a wise precaution," said Harry. "Who was the wizard that caused all of this trouble?" He thought he could guess.

"The wizard's name is Fenrir Greyback, Harry Potter," said Slider to no ones surprise.

"Let's go see Mr. Greyback," said Harry. He took Hermione's hand and they walked through the snake door to the cells of the new arrivals. Slider followed silently.

Fenrir Greyback was awake and alert, despite the early hour. The loss of his left arm had surprised him but he had too much survival instinct to worry about an arm while the rest of him was still in danger. He was pacing his cell, examining every part of it for weaknesses to exploit. His four months in captivity didn't show as much as it should have, partly due to the absence of Dementors, but mostly due to his extraordinary recuperative powers, one of the few positive side effects of being a werewolf. The glass walls did frustrate him, however. He could put a sizable dent in quarter inch thick steel but the clear walls of his cage took his worst abuse without showing any signs of buckling.

The Potters and Slider approached the werewolf's cell confidently. As they slowed to assume their chosen observational positions, Greyback lurched towards the cell wall with all of his strength. A hollow 'boing' could be heard but nothing else. Any noise from the inside, of course, would not escape due to the silencing charm. Harry and Hermione jumped back a bit involuntarily out of surprise but Slider had stepped forward with his hand raised. After no further act of hostility was forthcoming, Harry and Hermione stepped back up.

Harry removed the silencing charm and said, "Greyback. You have made a severe mistake. You have struck a house-elf. If you assume that you have rights to protect you from retribution, then you have made two mistakes. However, if you behave from now on, I will be merciful and limit your punishment to having your food restricted to one loaf of bread and one gallon of water per day for two weeks. Further acts of violence, of course, will be dealt with harshly."

Greyback laughed, heartily. Harry could feel that he meant it, too. "Bread and water, Potter?" he asked. "Is that the best you can offer me?" He looked at Hermione. "No. I see you have better. Keep her from harm until I break out of my fish bowl. I like my meat soft and juicy." He lunged at the glass again. This time, however, neither Harry nor Hermione flinched.

"You delude yourself, Fenrir," said Harry. "If ever you are in danger of escaping, I will kill you to prevent it." He tried to project the certainty he felt so that Greyback would understand and believe him.

"I see you've learned from the old fool's mistakes, Potter," said Greyback. "Good. I despise weak opponents." He walked over and sat on his bunk. It creaked under his weight. "So, boy; are you going to tell me why I am here or should I guess?"

"It's usually the evil villains in bad novels that explain everything to the hero of the story but in your case, I'll make an exception," said Harry. "Basically, you are here to prevent Voldemort from reclaiming you. Although you seem to be relatively unscathed, your fellow Death Eaters needed some time to recover after the departure of the Dementors. Recent activities of Voldemort led us to believe that he was planning on coming for you and your little friends soon. He will not be able to find you, here. That, by the way, is why you no longer have your left arm. If you are very good, you could get a new arm."

"I told Riddle that the Dark Marks were a bad idea," said Greyback. "Why make it easy to identify us?"

"I'll give you points for saying Voldemort's real name," said Harry. "I didn't think any of you Death Eaters would dare to do that."

"I'm not afraid of Riddle, Potter," said Greyback. "I see you aren't, either. Maybe you'll beat him, in the end; I don't know. Of course, I don't care. Riddle and I aren't all that close. We just have a few compatible goals. He wants some people dead and I like killing. Works out for both of us."

"I'm glad to hear that you don't have the usual Death Eater mentality, Fenrir," said Harry. "We might be able to help each other, after all."

"Now you're talking, Harry," said Greyback. "What do I have to do to get out of here?" He seemed to Harry to be more than ready to make a deal if it was in his best interest.

"If you mean 'What do you have to do to be released', I'm afraid that that just won't be happening," said Harry. "However, you could get larger quarters, better food, your left arm or other treats if you help me."

"I'm not a puppy for you to train, Potter," spat Greyback, rising from his bunk. "I won't lift a finger to help if I can't get out."

"You'd be surprised what you'll agree to, given enough time," suggested Harry. "What you need to do is determine if it's worth waiting until you break down or if you might as well cooperate now and reap the rewards."

Greyback didn't respond so Harry said, "I'll let you think on that and we'll chat again, later." Harry reestablished the silencing charm and he and Hermione proceeded to inspect the other new prisoners. Slider popped off to help with breakfast.

"I'm surprised to say it but it looks like you might be able to deal with him," said Hermione. "He really does seem like he'd dump Voldemort in a minute if you made it worthwhile."

"I know," said Harry. "I don't know how I feel about that. It'd be like making a deal with Jack the Ripper."

They continued their circuit. Most of the other older Death Eaters were unknown to them. Despite the lengthy recovery time, they still showed the signs of being in the care of the dementors. A notable exception was Antonin Dolohov. Like Greyback, he was relatively unharmed from his stay in Azkaban. Hermione stared at him with fearful hatred. He was, after all, the wizard who had nearly killed her at the Ministry. He returned her stare with a smile and a look of recognition.

"There's another one who's only getting out of here one way," said Harry. He held Hermione a little closer as they walked past his cell.

As they were nearing the end of occupied cells on the right hand side, they heard, "Oy, Harry!" come from behind them. Turning, they saw Ron and Honey walking towards them. It only took a few seconds for Ron to catch up. Honey kept up with his long legs but had to break into a trot.

"Good morning, Honey," said Hermione. "We didn't miss the start of breakfast, did we?" She pulled Harry's arm over to look at his watch.

"Not yet," replied Honey. "We just thought we'd come down and check out the new prisoners. I suppose the two of you had the same idea."

"Pretty much," said Harry. He continued his walk around the the cell block. "We did have a little talk with Greyback."

"You did?" asked Honey. "Weren't you scared to be in the same cell with him?" She looked a little frightened at the very idea.

"We weren't in the cell," explained Harry. "Slider was with us, anyway. We just wanted to see which way the wind blew with him."

"And what did you find out?" asked Ron.

"He would drop Voldemort in a second if he could get something out of the deal," said Harry. "I don't think you'd every hear 'my master this' or 'the Dark Lord that' out of him. He seems to just be out for himself. Sort of a free agent that helps out Voldemort when it suits him."

"I see," said Ron. He stopped in front of a cell and said, "I forgot about that."

Harry and Hermione both looked into the cell and saw Filch, lying on his bed, sleeping soundly with his cat on top of him. Sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall nearest to them was Umbridge. The pink bow in her hair had migrated to just over her left ear and her sweater had several serious looking snags and tears in it. Before anyone could offer a theory on how she became so disheveled, Mrs. Norris woke briefly from her early morning nap and saw the four of them standing outside of her cage. She rose quickly and hissed. Filch didn't stir but Umbridge, apparently thinking that the cat was about to attack her, stood quickly and covered her face with her hands. She then noticed that the cat wasn't looking at her and turned to see Harry, Hermione, Honey and Ron peering back in at her.

For their part, they were as surprised as she was. Her face and hands were covered with a network of scratches, both large and small. It became all to clear to them that Mrs. Norris had taken it upon herself to ensure that the naturally arrogant and controlling Umbridge understood that Filch was in charge of this cell.

She started to pound on the wall and was obviously trying to talk to them. Honey asked, "Who is she and why is she in the cell with Filch?" She seemed to be truly concerned. She also seemed to be the only one who was.

"The beast you see before you goes by the name of Dolores Umbridge," said Ron as if giving a lecture. "With the exception... Excuse me. With the possible exception of Snape, she was the most reviled professor in Hogwarts history."

"She seems to have gotten on the bad side of Mrs. Norris," said Hermione. "Perhaps she should be moved to another cell and treated."

"She'll be alright," said Harry. "Cats are pretty resistant to disease."

Hermione looked at him with an annoyed expression. "I meant Umbridge, idiot." She looked back at their former headmistress. Umbridge was starting to turn a bit red from the shouting. Filch, recognizing the cause of the disturbance, had turned over and was covering his ears with his pillow.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "We should think about moving her to her own cell sometime." He started to walk on. Harry and Hermione followed with Honey, after a last look back at the panicking woman, bringing up the rear.

The four of them walked into the Great Hall for breakfast shortly after eight o'clock. Everyone sat in their usual places and began to eat. After a few minutes, Hermione noticed that someone was missing. "Ginny?" she asked. "Where's Neville."

Ginny looked up and said, "Oh, we're just having a spat. Nothing serious." She went back to her bacon.

"A spat?" asked Hermione. "What about?" Normally, Hermione would never ask such a personal question but, as it was Ginny, she felt a little turn-a-bout was fair play.

"Nothing, really," repeated Ginny. "We're just arguing about the level of physical activity we should be engaging in at this point in our relationship."

Ron looked up at this and immediately asked, "He isn't trying to get you to go further than you are ready for, is he?" He looked like he was about to get up, find Neville and pummel him.

"No, he isn't," replied Ginny.

"Then what's the problem?" asked Ron.

"That's the problem," said Ginny. Apparently, she didn't inherit the blushing gene.

"I don't get it," said Ron. Unfortunately, everyone else within earshot did and started to laugh. After about a minute of thought, Ron got it.

A while later, after half of the table had kissed the other half goodbye, Harry and Ron headed off to their office to plan the day. When they got to the alcove, they were surprised to see that Hermione was right behind them.

"Don't you have class?" asked Harry.

"Not first hour," replied Hermione. She took her usual arm in anticipation of being apparated.

"Why'd you kiss me goodbye when you knew you were coming with us?" asked Harry.

"I didn't kiss you goodbye," she explained. "I just kissed you. Is there a problem with that?" She looked like there had better not be.

"Not at all," said Harry, realizing he had been treading on thin ice for a while now and decided to get to firmer ground. "I'm ecstatic that you will be joining us." He checked that both of his riders were ready and apparated into their office.

They had just sat down when Martha came into the room. "Thank goodness," she said. "I was about to send an elf for you."

"What's happened?" asked Hermione. She stood up and headed over towards Martha. Ron and Harry followed suit.

"I just got here," explained Martha. "When I checked on the nights activities, I found that since about ten last night, no Death Eaters have been sighted."

Ron looked at the reports she still had in her hands. Lately, there had been about thirty lengthy visits per day, mostly after hours at sites that were populated. This fit in with their analysis that a huge surge of Death Eaters were being recruited and trained in a short period of time. Ron thumbed through the reports, spending just a few seconds on each. Harry, Martha and Hermione could sense he was looking for something specific and waited for him to finish.

When he had read the last report, Ron set the stack on his desk. "Martha's right. At ten twenty-four last night, every Death Eater that was in the field or at Diagon or Knockturn Alleys dropped what they were doing and left. None have been sighted since."

"He's summoned them all to him," said Harry. "Just like he did in the graveyard." Turning back to Martha, he said, "I want to know what happened at that meeting. If any Death Eater shows up anywhere, I want to know about it immediately." She nodded and left to inform her crew.

"What do you think it could be?" asked Hermione. She was trying to come up with the answer to her own question but wanted to make sure the two boys were also on target.

"Either it's the most incredible coincidence in the world," said Ron, "or we said something to Snape that spooked Voldemort."

"I had thought I heard you almost say 'Voldemort' once," said Harry, "but that wouldn't have led to this sort of a reaction."

"Not by itself," agreed Ron. "You remember how we were wondering if Snape was feeding us false information in case Umbridge got caught?" The Potters both nodded. "Well, what if some of that was just to identify when she was caught? Maybe Snape had already set up some code words that we would have had to respond to correctly. He might have known that Hermione was a fake when she failed to give the countercode."

Hermione thought for a second and then asked, "If he knew I wasn't Umbridge, why didn't he try to attack or kill me?"

"He would have done something, I suppose," said Harry. "It would have seemed easy to have his wand out and ready when you came back from the kitchen with the milk. Even if he didn't know until the end, the last thing you did was carry over a tray of cookies. Both hands were occupied. You would think that if he knew you were a fake before he left, that would have been the time for action."

"Maybe it was in response to our taking the twenty Death Eaters out of Azkaban," suggested Ron. "That was all happening around that time."

"I'll bet that's it," said Harry, glad to have a reasonable explanation for the withdrawal of the Death Eaters that didn't involve them doing something stupid during their meeting with Snape. He thought a bit about it and suggested, "Perhaps I should notify the Minister that Voldemort has noticed the transfers a lot sooner than expected. He should at least know to be on his toes."

"That would be a good idea," agreed Hermione. "Are you thinking of sending an owl or going in person?"

"I can't really do either," said Harry. "Chances are that someone is in his office and Hedwig would take too long. I also don't really want to be seen there, if I can help it."

"Why not give the message to Dad?" asked Ron. "He's head of the Office of Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects and can see Scrimgeour fairly easily."

"That might work," agreed Harry. "I'm not sure that I want to send this over the floo network, though."

"I doubt that you could, anyway," said Hermione. "The Ministry Office floos are only good for corporeal transmission within the Ministry itself. Only the lobby floos are connected to the main network. You need to set up outside connections on an individual basis for voice."

"Are you sure?" asked Ron. "Mum calls Dad all the time on our floo."

"Odd, that," said Harry. "I wonder why your dad had his home connected to his office." He grinned at Ron, glad that there was at least one constant in the universe.

"That's actually your best course, Harry," said Hermione. "Why don't you go to the Burrow and talk to Mr. Weasley from there?"

"Have Mum do the initial call," said Ron, "in case someone is in the office with him." He was trying to redeem himself for his earlier thickness.

"Good idea, Ron," said Harry. "I'll go right now. Do either of you want to come?" He extended his arms.

"We'd better not," said Hermione. At the look on Ron's face, she added, "It's just that we have class soon and if we all go, she'll want to visit."

"You're probably right," agreed Ron. "We'll be visiting for real on her birthday, anyway." Molly's birthday happened to fall the day before a very important holiday for magical folk; Halloween. "See if you can find out what sort of things she might like, Harry."

"Will do," said Harry. With a wave and a twirl, he was gone.

The Burrow looked much the same as it always has; several stories stacked precariously on top of each other in a manner that almost guaranteed that the most mugglish of muggles would at least jokingly say that it must be held up by magic. To Harry, however, it was home. Knowing that Molly was at least as skittish as Tonks when it came to people apparating nearby, he popped into their backyard. This scattered the chickens in fairly short order but he wasn't worried about them. Walking up to the back door, he knocked, and walked in. He was, as was mentioned earlier, home.

Molly Weasley was engaged in her semi-leisure activity of choice; knitting. She had to start early this year to meet the Christmas sweater rush. With seven children of her own, Harry, Hermione (deserving of a sweater by virtue of being married to Harry), Fleur (grudgingly provided one as the wife of Bill), Penelope (again, the wife of a son), Honey (as a highly likely addition to the clan) and now Neville, she had a lot of yarn to get through. She figured that when the grandchildren started to arrive, she would have to come up with some new arrangements. She had heard the apparition pop with the resultant cacophony of clucks and was quickly finishing the row she was on so that she could either greet her guest or blast the intruder. She was about to grab her wand at the sound of the rusty hinge squealing when a cheery "Hello, Mrs. Weasley" allayed her worries.

Dropping her knitting, she rushed to give him a hug. "Harry!" she cried as she embraced him. "Is everything alright?" She had the worried look on her face that had become more pronounced as her children spread across the world and out of her protection. It had, at least, retreated from the near panicked expression she had sported during the months that her clock had placed all of her family in the "Mortal Peril" category. That had changed, thankfully, after Flitwick had cast his "unthinkable" charm on the Burrow. Now, only Ron held the distinction of that designation. It was due to his friendship with the man in her arms that this was true but she didn't think of that, now. One of her children had come to visit.

"Everyone is fine, at the moment," replied Harry. He tried to guide her into the sitting room. He had just eaten breakfast and had no desire for another. "Something has come up that needs to be brought to the attention of the Minister, though. I was hoping that we could call from here."

Molly sat down. "We don't have a direct line to the Minister, Harry," she said. "Maybe you could give the message to Arthur."

"That's a good idea," said Harry. "Could you start the connection and make sure he's alone?" He didn't mention that that was the plan from the beginning.

"Certainly," said Molly, rising from her chair. Together, they walked into the kitchen. Molly threw a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace and called out "Arthur Weasley" in a clear voice. A few seconds later, they heard Arthur's voice.

"Yes, Molly," he said. "What brings you to call so early in the morning?"

"Are you alone?" asked Molly, smiling at Harry.

"Just a moment, dear," he said. About thirty seconds later, he called back, "Now I am, dear. What's up?"

"Harry's here," replied Molly," and he has a message he wants you to give to the Minister." She signaled for Harry to step forward.

"Let's have it, then," said Arthur.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley," said Harry.

"Good morning, Harry," replied Arthur. "You'd better give me the message before we're interrupted."

"Tell Scrimgeour that Voldemort found out about the prisoner transfers within an hour of when they happened and he's gathered his Death Eaters together for some reason. None are currently out and about so we should be prepared for anything."

"Got it, Harry," said Arthur. "Anything else?"

"No," replied Harry, "just that we'll repel anything that comes our way but Azkaban should be his major concern. Voldemort might try something on short notice to prevent any more Death Eaters from getting out of his reach."

There was a pause on the other end. When Arthur came back on, Harry felt the concern in his voice. "Harry. Do you need any help from the Order? It sounds like you expect an attack at any moment."

Harry could see the same thought coming from Molly so he tried to address the worries of both of them. "We should have all the help we need, Mr. Weasley. Voldemort is looking for us in the wrong place and our troops are more than a match for the Death Eaters, anyway. We'll be fine."

"When we meet in person," said Arthur, chuckling, "I'll want you to explain both of those statements. For now, however, I have a message to deliver. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley," said Harry and the fire died out.

"That reminds me," said Harry, turning to a suddenly pale Molly, "Ron wanted me to ask for some ideas for a birthday present. Have you thought about what you'd like?"

Molly looked at him and said, "Yes,Harry. I know exactly what I'd like for my birthday. I want all of my children to be alive and healthy. That's what I 'd like for my birthday. And do you know what? I don't know if I'll get my wish." She had tears streaming down her face, now.

Harry wished now that he had brought Ron. He knew that Ron was the child she was the most worried about losing. He also knew that he, himself, was the cause of her worries and would bear the blame. If Ron were to die, Harry would lose not only a brother, but someone who, to paraphrase Molly herself, had become as good as a mother. He embraced her now, trying to calm her fears but acknowledging their validity.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Molly, at last. "Since Bill was hurt, I just want to hold all of my children close so they won't get hurt. They're all of age, except Ginny, and I have to accept that they will have to find their own way, now. It's just that when you start talking about You-Know-Who gathering his Death Eaters and warning the Minister about an attack, I just can't help being worried." She started to cry again.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "I meant it when I said that Voldemort was looking for us in the wrong place. I think we'll be fine, at least for quite a while." He held her a moment longer until she gathered herself.

"Thanks, Harry," said Molly, pulling back a bit. "Don't tell Ron I was such a mess. He has so much to think about, anyway. Just tell him," she stopped to think. "Just tell him I'd like a new hat for when I'm out in the cold."

"Sure," said Harry. "I'll just make sure he let's Honey pick it out. I doubt you want a 'Cannons' hat on your head when you're in public." They both laughed.

Harry sat and visited for a few minutes longer until, assured that Molly was calmed down, he apparated back to their office.

"Well?" asked Ron. He seemed eager for a report.

"I was able to give the message to your father," said Harry. "He offered the help of the Order but I said we were probably good." He went over and sat in his chair. He then noticed that Hermione was not with them.

"Not that," said Ron. "Did Mum have any suggestions for a birthday present?" He acted like Harry had slipped a bit by not properly prioritizing the subjects that were discussed.

"Oh," said Harry. "Hats. She said she would like a warm hat for the Winter." He then remembered the rest. "I promised that I would tell you to let Honey pick it out."

"That was thoughtful of her," said Ron, a pleased expression on his face. "Honey will appreciate that."

Harry was about to ask Ron what he was babbling about when Hermione returned.

"Where did you run off to?" asked Harry.

"Didn't Ron tell you?" asked Hermione. She set down a parchment with some numbers, a date and what looked like an equation on it.

"Obviously not," said Harry.

"You just got back," said Ron, defending himself.

"True enough," said Harry. "So, where have you been?" He picked up the parchment but couldn't make sense of any of it except for the date. It was yesterday's.

"Ron and I were talking about the possible targets that Voldemort might hit," began Hermione. "One of them was the Fortress North. That got me to thinking. As you are no doubt unaware, the Autumnal Equinox occurred about a week ago. That means that the days will start getting shorter in the Northern Hemisphere. The North Pole will no longer have any direct sunlight and that situation will slowly advance down to the Arctic Circle. Since the Northern Fortress is only one hundred and thirty miles away from the North Pole, that means that it will also be in darkness fairly quickly. I just had to look up the formula and I found out that the last day with any direct sunlight there was yesterday. It will have a few hours of dusky conditions today and after that, just starlight."

"So that means any attacking Death Eaters will have to use just wands for light?" asked Harry. "That ought to slow them down."

"It will do more than that," said Hermione. "As you found out yourself, it's no bed of roses up there at the best of times. Wands can only illuminate so far. If they portkey to that beacon and try to fly to the Fortress, they will stand a good chance of either hitting a mountain if they fly too fast or freezing to death if they play it safe."

"Well, 'Boo Hoo' for the Death Eaters," said Ron. "It sounds like those blokes won't be enjoying the trip very much."

"That's true enough," said Hermione, "but you're forgetting that we think most of the blokes who would be used on that particular mission are along the lines of Wood. I'd prefer not to let them crash into something or freeze."

"Well, we do have the beacon being watched," said Harry. "Maybe we could pick them off right away." He'd be willing to do that if it would save mostly innocent lives.

"They'd be properly clothed and on the move before we could get ready," said Hermione. "It would be pretty dangerous to try to track them in the open and they might be dead before they got to us."

"Could you get to the solution, already?" exclaimed Ron. "It's obvious that you've got this all figured out and are just toying with us." Both Ron and Harry looked towards Hermione, expectantly.

"Well," she began, "I was thinking that if all we had to do was go pick them up, the Hogwarts Free Elves could handle it quite easily."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "You make it sound like they'll just be standing around, waiting for a ride," said Harry.

"Essentially correct," said Hermione, "except they probably wouldn't be 'standing around', as you put it." She then proceeded to explain her plan.

"Oh, we have definitely been a bad influence on you," said Ron, smiling broadly. "I'd be ashamed to even know you if it wasn't such a great idea."

"Honestly," said Harry, "that would be the worst second and a half of your life. I wouldn't want to be one of the Death Eaters." He, too, was grinning from ear to ear.

"Okay," said Hermione. "We have about twenty minutes until Potions so I'll give the instructions to Slider while you two get your things ready." Both boys groaned.

"We can't go to Potions, today," said Ron, "because, ah, because... Harry. Give me some help here."

"I'm sorry, Ron," said Harry, somberly, "I'm afraid that Hermione is right. Professor Triffle was very helpful in coming up with the potion that we needed. We owe it to him to go to his class. Despite the hardship this may cause, ignoring the horrible sight of watching our fellow classmates whither and age before our very eyes, we must endeavor to persevere through our torment for the sake of appreciation. I would suggest, however, that you leave a note for Honey; just in case."

Ron nodded gravely and walked off towards the statue, snickering. Hermione said, "You have nineteen minutes until Potions so I'll go see Slider and you two can meet me in class." She still kissed him goodbye so Harry knew he wasn't in too much trouble for mocking one of her favorite classes.

When lunchtime rolled around, it was a fairly subdued and thoughtful group who sat at the end of the Gryffindor table. Ginny was still alone but Neville, although several places away, was now at least sitting at the table. He seemed to be talking to Dean and Seamus about something that he was taking seriously and they obviously weren't. At one point, the conversation grew loud enough for Harry to overhear Seamus say 'So what's the problem?' Ginny also seemed to overhear because a slight smile appeared on her face.

Ron had apparently been updating Honey on the day's news as they ate because their conversation was much less vocal and animated than usual. Luna and Draco were having a conversation, as usual. Draco was not smiling as he normally did, though. Harry had overheard enough to know that Luna was explaining her upcoming sessions with Death Eaters, both old and new. They wouldn't start until they had all been treated by Poppy's potion and Hermione's spell but next week would definitely be a busy one. Harry gathered that she had requested that Draco accompany her to the first few visits and that he had no intentions of doing otherwise.

Harry and Hermione were both engaged in their silent contemplations. Hermione was considering her next three classes, Poppy's potion, the pursuit of a charm or spell to allow Muggles inside Hogwarts Castle, their previous and upcoming meetings with Snape, the 'surprise' she had waiting for any Death Eaters who might try to get to the Fortress North and what she might get Harry for a Christmas present. Harry's mind was fixed on just one subject; determining all possible means to ensure Hermione's safety at their next meeting with Snape.

The one thing that had not crossed anyone's mind since Monday was Harry's quick conversation with Professor Sprout. Unfortunately, this was especially true of Harry. He had intended to start setting up his surprise either before or after their meeting with Minister Scrimgeour. The appearance of Umbridge, coupled with the clandestine meeting with Snape had completely driven his earlier plans out of his mind. Until now, that is.

As he looked up at the staff table, just in passing, actually, he made eye contact with Professor Sprout. She took this as a signal that it was time and rose from her chair with a wink. It took Harry about two seconds to realize that she was about to announce something that he had not made the slightest progress towards planning or fulfilling.

"May I have your attention, please," thundered the alto voice from the podium. It was so unusual for Professor Sprout to make an announcement, especially since McGonagall was sitting right next to her, that the hall almost instantly approached the chatting level of a graveyard.

"As you have probably suspected, Hogsmeade trips for this year will be few, if any." There was a general groan emitted from the students. Unfortunately for Harry, it didn't last long since most reasonable students realized that unsupervised trips beyond the grounds of Hogwarts would be unlikely.

"I realize that this would tend to make for a very long school year," said Sprout. "Fortunately, a temporary reprieve has been offered."

Harry feverishly began to envision circumstances that wouldn't make him look like an absolute fool. Perhaps Sprout wouldn't even mention him.

"Harry Potter," boomed Sprout, "has come forth with a generous plan that might take some of the edge off of this unfortunate situation.

Okay. Maybe she wouldn't ask him to speak.

"Harry? Could you please come up and give us a few details?"

"Stop reading my mind!" thought Harry. He rose from his seat, trying to ignore the intense stares of his friends. He needed to think of something and fast. Where's a Death Eater attack when you need one?

He walked to the front of the hall and stood before the teacher's dais. That gave him the extra ten seconds he needed to realize he needed at least a minute. He decided to bluff it out. Engage Babble Mode. "Thank you, Professor." What was he thanking her for? "Thanks, everyone, for coming to, ah, lunch?" Laughter. Abort Babble Mode and bring out The Parrot. "As Professor Sprout has said, it's unlikely that we will be able to have many Hogsmeade trips, if any, this year. I was thinking about how long September had seemed and an entire year without getting out of the castle would be quite a long time. Considering all that has been going on, how the weather won't stay nice much longer and how we didn't invite most of you to our wedding, I decided to treat the school to a party, of sorts. It will be this Saturday afternoon and will be on the grounds of the school." General murmurs of appreciation and anticipation.

"What have you got planned for us, Harry," shouted out one of the third year Gryffindors whose name escaped Harry at the moment.

"Lot's of things," lied Harry. "I have lots of surprises planned but so you have something specific to look forward to, I will tell you that the night will finish with fireworks." Thankfully, he had thought of the Weasley twins in time to have at least one definite event. Again, general applause and heightened murmurs. Harry took the opportunity to sprint back to his seat.

"Wow, Harry," said Ron. "When did you arrange all of this? We were with you pretty much all of the time in London, yesterday."

"Oh, yes, Harry," said Hermione, imitating a squeaky voiced, star-struck fourteen-year-old. "Do tell us about the clever way you managed to set this all up right in front of our very eyes." She looked up at him in mock adoration.

"All right," said Harry, lowering his voice so only Ron and Hermione could hear, "I forgot all about it. I can owl Fred and George for the fireworks and I was planning on giving some dragon rides, but beyond that, I need some help."

Hermione thought for about three seconds and said, "I'd start by notifying Madam Rosmerta that you'd like a buffet for five hundred. I'd set her up just past the greenhouses; that's where the largest field is. You might have to have the Hogshead help out, too. Arrange for plenty of butterbeer and mead, of course. I've never been in there but there's a fairly large bakery in town so you can order the birthday cakes from there."

"How did you know I'll need birthday cakes?" asked Harry. He was surprised since no one ever mentioned either cakes or birthdays.

Hermione looked at him, sadly. "You poor dear," she said. "Maybe I'll give you subtlety lessons for your Christmas present." She smiled at him and added, "You jumped up and ran to talk to Sprout the moment you found out that that Luna and McGonagall have the same birthday. What else could it be? I do appreciate the touch about making it a belated wedding reception, though."

Harry didn't know what to say. For a split second, he wondered just how severe the downside would be to be married to a witch who reads you like a billboard.

"Now to the other attractions," said Ron. "If you want to make a lasting impression, be sure to hire Honeydukes. A good supply of free candy never misses the mark. Fred and George might even want to come out and demonstrate some of their latest wheezes. I think that some games to raise money for the poor would also add some dimension to the event."

"Maybe a dunk tank with Filch and Umbridge," suggested Hermione, smiling wickedly. "At a knut a throw, you could fund St. Mungo's for a year."

As the three teens discussed the particulars regarding the birthday/birthday/wedding reception, another trio of somewhat older wizards planned a different sort of surprise party.

"I tell you it must be tonight," snapped Voldemort. "Our sources are divided on when the rest of my Death Eaters will be transferred but it has been verified that at least twenty are already gone. If we wait for even another day, we might lose dozens more."

"I agree, my Lord," said Snape. "I believe that we should be able to mount effective attacks at Azkaban and against Potter. It is the attack on Potter's headquarters that worries me. I do not believe we can properly outfit the number of men necessary to attack an unknown stronghold in such a short amount of time."

"With your leave, Master," said Wormtail, "it is also extremely cold that far north. I noticed the temperature on the helicopter said negative fifty-five degrees. It was in that other temperature with the 'C' but even with the heavy clothing I was wearing and a warming charm, it was very cold."

"We have winter gear," argued Voldemort. "A warming charm should be sufficient for the short amount of time we will need. He has at least fifty of my men. Do you recommend that we abandon such a number of Death Eaters to a boy? We have almost eight hours until the attack. It is going to happen. You may use a few of our unmarked servants to procure as much appropriate clothing or other equipment as you are able before then but the attack on Potter's Fortress must happen tonight. We know for a certainty that neither he, nor his two lieutenants will be there. It is the best time to attempt to retrieve the men he has already imprisoned."

"Yes, my Lord," said Snape. "Speaking of the attack on Potter; I have prepared the Vito Aggettivo Ferme charms. Have you selected the bearer?" He seemed just a bit concerned.

"I have," said Voldemort. "I have spent as much time as I deemed appropriate to train the son of a loyal servant but Goyle the Younger is beyond my abilities. He shall do this one service for me to receive my favour."

"Yes, my Lord," said Snape. "I shall instruct him in their use."

"That only leaves for me to name who shall lead that mission," said Voldemort. "I have decided that Flinder has proven himself. He remained committed to the mission to kidnap McGonagall despite early detection and response from Potter. I need a dedicated Death Eater for that assignment."

"Perhaps I should lead the attack against Potter," suggested Snape. "He will, no doubt, be under his invisibility cloak again, along with Weasley. The map you provided suggested that they each have one. It will be a tricky fight. I have fought him before and might stand the better chance of succeeding."

"No, Severus," said Voldemort. "The main purpose of these attacks is to retrieve my loyal followers. I don't expect the attack on Potter to be successful. I do expect it to occupy him to the point of allowing the other attacks to succeed. Flinder will go in with Goyle under his own cloak so he should be able to occupy them until the other forces attack the house. They should at least be able to do some damage and, with luck, perhaps kill one or more of them. Are there any other questions?"

"Master," said Wormtail, "the northern Fortress is such an unknown to us. We have not fought against major positions like this very often and the dark and cold are also unusual. Do you have any orders on the point at which I should order the use of our emergency portkeys and withdraw if things aren't working as planned?"

Voldemort looked piercingly at Wormtail. After a dozen seconds, the lesser man started to squirm. Finally, Voldemort said, "I'll leave that decision to you, Wormtail. Just remember that I will be reviewing your memories of the encounter and if I disagree with your decision, the consequences will be severe."

Author's Note: If you don't want to know how Snape knew Hermione was Hermione and that Ron and Harry were all at Umbridge's House, don't read any further.

The Answer:

For the ten people who will ask this in the reviews, Wormtail was at least aware of the Marauder's Map. He probably didn't know much about it's creation but between his memory and Snape's abilities, they probably could get something that would work for at least a few feet diameter. Voldemort knew how to interact with that sort of magic by the written word (his diary) so Snape would only have to write something like Show Me on his piece of parchment (remember that from Umbridge's house) to show the number and identities of the people in the room.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47 – The Surprise Parties

October 1st, 1997

"I'll have to hand it to Fred and George; those charms work like, well, a charm." After their last class, Ron had joined Harry and the elves on the quidditch pitch to try out the new force multiplier charms that George had given them. Hermione had gone to the kitchens to work with some other elves on a very different project. She needed some brownies for her meeting with Snape. She was such a lousy liar, at times, that she wanted to honestly be able to say that she, at least in part, had made them herself.

Slider was given the primary charm as Head Elf. When he activated it, the small group of red-robed elves became a sea of crimson. The increase was so sudden and the differences between individual elves so minor (at least to a non-elf) that Harry had to concentrate to discern which elves were real and which were illusions.

"Okay, everyone," said Harry, "let's spread out and see how large an area these will work in." The real elves began backing away from each other to form an ever larger circle. They kept looking back and forth among themselves to maintain the geometric shape. The fake elves, however, did not have any mental abilities to contribute to this effort. Each of the imaginary elves took a position somewhere between the real donor pair. This had the effect of making the group as a whole appear as an ordinarily dispersed crowd. At a signal from Harry, Ron followed one side of the perimeter out as Harry did the same on the other side.

When the circle of elves had a diameter of approximately two hundred yards, Harry started to notice some of the fake elves becoming a bit jittery and uncertain about their actions. This became more pronounced fairly quickly so he called a halt to the outward expansion.

"Please start closing the circle, again!" he shouted. The elves began to close ranks and within a few yards, the substitute elves began to take on their usual, semi-normal appearance. "Hold it there!" he shouted and walked over to talk to Ron, who was heading his way, already.

"Looks like one-fifty, maybe a two hundred yard range," said Ron when they were within talking distance. He looked around at the elves, obediently standing still.

"Slider," called Harry. Slider appeared before him causing nine of the phantom elves to shift positions.

"Yes, Harry Potter," he said.

"Is it easy for you to tell the real elves from the false ones?" asked Harry. He wasn't sure if the question conveyed his meaning so he added, "I mean quickly; at a glance."

"Slider is able to know which is real elves but it sometimes takes two looks, Harry Potter," said Slider, honestly.

"I'm actually glad to hear that," said Ron. "If an elf needs to look twice, your average Death Eater won't know what to do."

"I think it would give the above average Death Eater something to worry about, too," said Harry. "I can still tell, but it takes awhile." He had a thought. "Slider, would you please get three or four apples or oranges from the kitchens?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Does Harry Potter wish for apples or oranges?"

Harry thought for a second and said, "Maybe two of each, Slider." Slider nodded and popped off. Ten seconds later, he returned with the requested fruit.

"Thanks, Slider," said Harry, taking the apples and tossing the oranges to a bewildered Ron. Speaking up, he said to the group at large, "Ron and I will toss these apples and oranges to a few of you. What I want you to do is toss your apple or orange to another real elf as soon as you can. Then apparate to another part of the field but still within the group. What we're trying to do is get some practice in quickly identifying each other, performing an action and then moving to a new position. Be alert because every time one of you moves, the whole field will change." He tossed his apples to Slider and Jumper. Ron did the same with his oranges to Sleepy and the image of an elf. A nearby real elf picked up the orange and the game was on.

Slider and Sleepy tossed their fruit to Windy and Curly while Jumper and Pounder threw theirs at Gilly and Blinky. All four of them popped to a different position immediately and the field shifted noticeably. Curly threw his apple to Millie while Pounder chose Slider and then Jumper went to Sleepy while Curly decided on Tripper. Although they started out slowly and hesitantly, due to the shifting of one real and nine fake elves at each apparition, eventually the rate of apparitions increased to about two per second. It wasn't long before both Ron and Harry were spinning in place in total confusion. The fact that phantom fruit also made partial trips as part of the duplication charm didn't help. After a minute or so of this, Ron decided to just close his eyes and try to walk to the edge of the field, hoping that the elves wouldn't hit him with anything.

Harry attempted to detect the real elves but they were changing patterns so often that he soon joined Ron, realizing defeat when he saw it.

With the wizards safe from harm, the elves picked up the pace. The staccato of apparition pops started to sound like popcorn. At that high of a speed, the apples and oranges started to hit the ground a little more frequently but the elves were starting to get into a rhythm.

"I don't know about you," said Ron, "but they could be throwing peanuts at me and I wouldn't be able to hit any of them with a spell until I was buried up to my ears."

"That goes for the two of us," agreed Harry. "It doesn't matter that I can tell the real elves from the fake ones; it all changes too fast to respond to them."

They watched for another minute or so before calling the elves to a stop. When they had all gathered around him, Harry noticed that they were sweating and panting but somehow happy. Elves didn't seem like the types to laugh or joke with each other but he could sense the excitement.

"That was fantastic," said Harry. "Ron and I both agree that it would be difficult to defend against that sort of assault. If you were casting spells at Death Eaters and then popping away like that, they wouldn't stand a chance. Very well done."

The elves all beamed at him. "Thank you, Harry Potter," said Slider. "We is practicing with the Weasley balls. We is getting better at knowing where real elves is being."

"That's a good idea, Slider," said Ron. "By the way, just remember that Harry, Hermione and I will be away for a while this evening so it the Death Eaters end up by that portkey beacon, you know what to do, right?"

"Yes, Master Ron," said Slider. "We is being ready if bad wizards go there."

"That's good," said Harry. "We'll leave you to it, then. I want to see how Hermione did with her brownies." He and Ron both waved to the elves before Harry apparated the two of them to their office.

When they arrived, they found that Remus and Tonks were there, talking with Martha and Oliver. "We might need to add on to the office, again," joked Harry. He took the last chair leaving Ron to sit on the edge of Hermione's desk.

"We might have to, at that," said Remus. "Tonks and I were just talking to Oliver about this army you want. If we do pick up some more like Oliver, it's fairly likely that we'd need to have some sort of training rooms. Depending on the number who choose to join, it could be a problem."

"That's the sort of problem I like," said Harry. "Let's see how many want to sign on and then we'll find the room somewhere even if we have to dig out some more tunnels."

"If our analysis is correct," said Ron, "that might be happening fairly quickly. Of course, that could depend on whether or not we decide to ..."

Pop! Slider popped into the office with Honey holding his hand. She was carrying a small basket and a blanket and looked a little put out, for some reason.

"Hi, Honey," said Ron. "What brings you here?" He stood and reached out for a kiss.

Honey put her hands on her hips and said, "Don't 'Honey' me." She then relented and gave him a quick kiss before continuing. "I saw you and Harry working with the elves on the pitch and thought we could have a quiet supper when you were done. I grabbed a few things and walked all the way out there just in time to see you two apparate away." She turned to Slider and said, "Thanks for the lift."

"Slider is being glad to help, Mistress Honey," said Slider and popped away.

"I'm sorry, Honey," said Ron, taking the opportunity to give her another kiss. "I didn't see you. We have some time before our mission if you want to go somewhere."

"Sounds like an idea to me," said Honey, preparing to head out the door.

"Wait a moment, Romeo," said Tonks. "Weren't you about to tell us something?"

"Maybe," said Ron. "What was I talking about?" He didn't seem the bit embarrassed about having his mind go blank at the sight of his girl.

"Something about the elves, wasn't it?" asked Harry. He didn't look too sure.

"No," said Oliver, "or maybe yes. It was something about tunnels."

Tonks threw up her hands and said, "Men!" She then smiled and said, "At least I know that it isn't just Remus." Turning her attention to Ron, she said, "You had commented on the fact that we might have a lot of new ex-Death Eaters like Oliver to deal with. Then you started to say something about a decision. I got the impression that how you decided something might determine when or if these attacks you are predicting might occur."

"That's right," said Ron, remembering his previous train of thought. "If we hear something from Snape that leads us to let him go for another night or so, then chances are the attacks will go on schedule. If we don't think his new information is that important, we take him tonight. That in itself might bugger up their plans."

"That might be a good reason not to try to capture him," said Remus. He steeped his fingers in front of his face.

The room fell silent. Finally, Harry asked, "Okay, I give up. Why is having them postpone an attack a bad idea?"

"Because," explained Remus, "the Death Eaters have all been summoned, presumably to Voldemort. I know of no other reason to do so unless a major attack or attacks are planned. We have discovered this and Azkaban has been reinforced as much as the Minister was able. We also have reason to suspect an attack at the arm storage room up north. We are as prepared as we ever will be to engage Voldemort. If he delays for a week or two, due to the loss of Snape, the ability of Scrimgeour to maintain that level of forces at Azkaban will diminish. He would have to redeploy his forces back to their regular duties."

"I think that might force us to shift our decision tonight from capturing Snape unless very important information would be forthcoming to letting him go unless there is a great danger somewhere," said Harry.

Ron nodded. "It's sort of like it was at the Burrow. We're better off knowing when and where the attacks might occur. Of course in that case, we knew both with great detail. Here, we just think we know two of the most likely targets and that it will probably be soon."

"Ron," asked Honey, "how do you know that you won't be one of the targets?" She looked very concerned.

"We aren't absolutely sure," said Ron. "It's Hermione who would be the actual target if Snape suspected anything and we would have the advantage. Harry and I would both be there under our invisibility cloaks. If he made any sort of a move, we could drop him in a second."

"That's right, Honey," agreed Harry. "If anything looks suspicious, we'd just pull the plug and get out of there; with or without Snape."

Honey didn't look convinced but said, "I guess I'd better get used to this sort of thing. All of you are doing so many different things to fight You-Know-Who that I'd better accept the fact that you will be in danger at times. I don't have to like it, though." She crossed her arms and frowned at Ron.

"That reminds me," said Harry. He went around and rummaged through Hermione's desk for a second before retrieving a short parchment. He then called out, "Winky."

"Yes, Master," said Winky. "What is Master needing?" Her hands were quite dirty so Harry assumed he had summoned her away from Aunt Petunia's greenhouse.

"Sorry to bother you, Winky," began Harry, "but I was wondering if you could contact a few places for me tomorrow. Hermione and I are hosting a party for the school this Saturday and I don't know if I'll have time to do this myself."

"Winky is here to serve Master, Master," said Winky. "Winky will do what Master asks."

"Thanks, Winky," said Harry. "This is a list of the places and what we would like." Seeing the confused faces around him he said, "Ron and Hermione were helping me come up with some ideas and Hermione, as usual, wrote them all down. I think she was going to do most of it herself since I'm incompetent but she's busy, too." Turning back to his elf, he said, "Here you go, Winky. It doesn't say so on the list but we would like everything ready to start at about three o'clock this Saturday. Tell them to set up in the field next to the greenhouses. If anyone needs a deposit or anything, just take the money from the house vault."

"Yes, Master," said Winky and popped away.

"So that's what you three were huddled up discussing," said Honey. "You mean to say that you announced a party in three days for hundreds of people and you haven't made any preparations, yet?"

"I believe that I've already admitted my incompetence," said Harry, dismissively. "The important thing to do now is to make sure that I hide it."

"I'm sure that Fred and George will come through with the fireworks," said Ron. "You're giving Dragon rides and the food and drink should be set up." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "We considered putting Filch and Umbridge in a dunk tank. Beyond that, we don't have too many ideas for activities. I wish Hermione were here."

Pop! As if in response to Ron's statement, Hermione and an older elf named Fuzzy, popped into the office. Hermione was carrying a large platter of brownies which she put down on her desk, causing Ron to move out of the way.

"Brownies!" shouted Ron as he reached for one, fresh out of the oven.

Hermione slapped his hand away and said, "Those are for Snape."

Harry got up and greeted his wife with a kiss. He said, "Hello, dear. How's the love of my life; the light of my world; the keeper of my heart; the future bearer of my children; the.."

"No, you can't have a brownie," she said, unmoved.

"I never said anything about a brownie," said Harry. "Of course a truly loving wife wouldn't have to be asked; she'd just offer her husband a treat that she knows is only slightly below treacle tart in his book. At least that's what I've heard." He looked at the plate with exaggerated longing.

"You'd better get your hearing checked, then," said Hermione. "If there are any left after Snape is finished, you can each have one."

"You always give Snape first choice," whined Ron.

"Yeah," joined in Harry. "It's cookies for Snape and brownies for Snape. Harry and Ron just get the crumbs."

"She's not really that nice after all, is she?" asked Ron.

"No, I guess not," agreed Harry. He then looked up, hopefully. "Hey! Honey's nice. Maybe she'll make us some brownies." He turned to Ron.

"Maybe we should ask her," said Ron. He looked at his girl, now smiling broadly at the grief they were giving Hermione. "Hey, Honey. Will you make some brownies for Harry and me?"

"Why of course I will," said Honey. "I love you enough to give you some brownies. That is unless You-Know-Who drops by. In that case, he'd get some first."

"All right, all right," said Hermione. "Here." She took two brownies off the tray and gave one to Harry and one to Ron. "Happy now?"

"Mmm," mumbled Harry.

"Very much so," said Ron. He had already finished his.

"What about us?" asked Remus, indicating Oliver and himself.

"I want one, too," said Tonks, getting into the spirit of things. She actually did want one.

"Children! Children!" said Martha. "Don't be greedy. I'm sure once they capture Snape, Hermione will be bringing treats down every day. If you are nice to him, he might share some with you."

"Fine," said Hermione. "I've got two hours until we were planning to head to Umbridge's house. Help yourselves." She started the tray around the room. Everyone took at least one.

"Come on, Fuzzy," said Hermione, trying to be grumpy but pleased that her brownies were such a hit. "Let's go make another batch." She turned to Harry and said, "Unless you require something else, dear?"

Harry thought a moment and said, "Some milk would go with the brownies quite nicely." Everyone else voiced their enthusiastic agreement.

"Ahhhh!" cried Hermione and said, "Let's go," to Fuzzy. A moment later and they were gone.

Everyone sat silently for a while, eating their brownies, until Honey said, "I hope she doesn't forget to send the milk."

October 1st, 1997

Approaching 8:00 PM

Home of Delores Umbridge

"Hmm hmmm hmm hmmmm hmm hmmm hmmm hmmmmm," hummed Ron. He had been especially happy since returning from his extended supper with Honey by the lake.

"Ron," said Hermione. "You do know that you should stop humming when Snape gets here, don't you?" She was using her time to water the plants but the incessant giddiness from her lovestruck friend was starting to wear on her nerves.

"No problem," said Ron. "Hmm hmmm hmmm hmm hmmmm hmm hmmmm hmmmm."

Harry had other problems to worry about. Perhaps not worse than having Ron humming nearby, but definitely just as serious. What Remus had said about it perhaps being a better idea to let Snape go until after the attacks struck him as being both reasonable and insane. It had worked very well at the Burrow when they had known when and where Voldemort would attack. They had killed or captured dozens of Death Eaters. Then again, letting someone like Snape go when you have him in your hands is insane when viewed through the prism of someone who had let Wormtail go, not once, but twice and that had led to the capture and torture of Minerva and the death of Dobby. He decided that he would go with his gut when the time came.

October 1st, 1997

Approaching 8:00 PM

Azkaban

Minister Scrimgeour poured himself another cup of coffee. He was supposed to be supervising his aurors during their 'Azkaban Scenario' training. At least that was the reason given for why he had transported seventy of his finest to this God-forsaken rock this afternoon. They were practicing their procedure for dealing with a mass break-out of the prison. He smiled. What they should be practicing was a mass break-in. Nevertheless, he felt confident that between the normal fifty guards and the seventy aurors, he could turn back any attack. The walls of the fortress would be to his advantage, after all. The element of surprise had also been negated. If Potter could capture, or at least turn back, any attack coming his way, this could be a night that set Voldemort back months, if not years. It would be tonight. His warrior bones told him that much. It was just a matter of waiting for it. He hated that part.

October 1st, 1997

Approaching 8:00 PM

Voldemort's Stronghold at Cleobury North

Everything was going to plan. Snape had left at four o'clock with two hundred of the most competent of his artificial Death Eaters. The dementors, the long-term former wardens of Azkaban would be joining them at the last minute. With the secret entrances to the fortress known to them, they would sweep through the guards and return over one hundred of his original, and more importantly, still loyal Death Eaters. He had initially planned on disposing of the least competent of his recent recruits after a more fit group of substitutes were obtained but he agreed with Snape that the most advantageous course would be to allow the extras to be captured. This would force the Ministry, which would soon lose dozens of it's men, to waste even more guarding the misfits. He had to admit, it was a cunning plan that would cost him nothing.

His second front was also looking up. Wormtail's unmarked shoppers had managed to procure forty down-filled parkas from a wholesaler in northern London. Although they were admittedly not in the class of the survival gear that Wormtail had bought in Norway, the insulated boots and gloves had brought the warmth level up to the point where even the panicky rat had decided they would survive the twenty minute flight to Potters so-called Fortress of Solitude. Potter wouldn't be lonely much longer.

Of course, Potter wouldn't be there. He, along with his mudblood wife and blood traitor friend were all waiting for Snape at the home of the fool Umbridge. Even her loss, however, was noteworthy. She had given Snape information for at least four or five days without incident. She had done the same for some of his political associates for two more weeks. Potter comes to visit and she is found out. She didn't even have the dark mark. Another mystery. Another clue. Soon, he would unravel them all. But first, he had to personally handle the launch of the Potter Offensive.

Normally, Snape would handle such mundane tasks but he was just off the coast of Azkaban Island, waiting for the gillyweed to wear off. The two prongs of the attack on Potter himself needed to be simultaneous. This was the riskiest part of the entire campaign since it hinged on Goyle's ability to pull his hands out of his pockets and place them together. If he didn't somehow bugger that up, a distinct possibility, then the rest of the plan would go smoothly.

"Flinder. Goyle," he called. Both men immediately came over and stood before him. They both looked competent despite the fact that one of them was Goyle. He had taken the image of Snape since drinking the polyjuice potion twenty minutes ago. "It is time. Goyle. Do you have any questions on your task?" Voldemort hoped he hadn't already forgotten it.

"No, Master," said Goyle. "I just have to touch these two rings together." He made as if to demonstrate.

"Not yet!" shouted Voldemort.

Goyle stopped and put his hands back in his pockets; the place Snape had ordered him to keep them until he saw Umbridge.

Voldemort was comforted in knowing he wouldn't have to deal with this idiot for very much longer. "Yes, Goyle," he said. "Just touch them together, but only when you see Umbridge."

"Yes, Master," said Goyle.

"Flinder," said Voldemort to the other man, "the attack will start shortly. Try to kill Umbridge as soon as you enter the room. After that, leave via the floo." He knew that the floo would be shut down immediately after Flinder stepped out at Umbridge's house but he wasn't about to tell this to Flinder. "The main force will then finish anyone left in the house."

"I will not fail, Master," said Flinder. He and Goyle took their post at the fireplace and Flinder took some floo powder. He would guide Goyle to make sure the idiot found his way. Flinder then covered himself with his invisibility cloak and awaited the signal.

Voldemort consulted the clock on the wall. The forces waiting near Umbridges house would attack at precisely eight o'clock. "Wormtail," he called. "You will leave in one minute. The first group leaves at eight and the second follows fifteen seconds later so make sure your men know to get out of the way."

"Yes, Master," said Wormtail from within his heavy fur parka. His men were waiting patiently around their portkeys; their brooms strapped to their backs. He had declared the inferior parkas his men were using as satisfactory but he personally gave them just a fifty-fifty chance of being warm enough for battle when, and if, they found the Fortress of Solitude. There was no use in arguing with the Dark Lord, though, so he just said they were fine.

The second hand of the clock worked its way up until it reached the zenith. "Go now!" shouted Voldemort.

Flinder threw in the floo powder while Wormtail activated the first portkey. The twenty men disappeared before his eyes. He watched the clock while holding onto the second portkey. He watched as the fireplace blazed green and Flinder and the image of Snape vanished in the flames. Touching the portkey with his wand, his group also headed into battle.

Snape's breathing started to become labored. He was expecting this and simply stood up. He was in a shallow bay on the west side of Azkaban Island. He waited a few more moments before tentatively trying to breathe through his mouth and nose instead of his gills. It was a bit early but he was able to take in a little air. Within a minute, he was back to normal and directing his men into the recently opened culvert under the cliff. They had just five minutes to get into position before the dementors would arrive.

Wormtail had braced himself for the cold. When he materialized, it was cold, all right, and dark. It was also something else. He thought, "What the blood..." and the figurative lights joined the literal ones and went out.

"Hmm hmmmm hmm hmmm hmmm hmm hmmmm," hummed Ron.

"I'm warning you, Ron," said Hermione. Before she could finish her warning, the grate blazed into a fiery green and Snape stepped out. He then lurched forward a bit more, as if he had been pushed.

"Good evening, Professor," said Hermione.

She was about to offer him some brownies when Harry threw off his cloak and yelled, "Stupify!" at the top of his lungs. As his red beam passed by Snape, a blue beam was emitted from thin air just to the right of their former professor. Hermione dodged just in time but Ron was right behind her and didn't see it coming. The hole in the wall tended to suggest that at least some of the reducto missed him but the displaced trinkets and furniture indicated that he had at least been knocked back.

Harry rounded on the professor but Snape had no wand in his hands. He simply went to put them together, as if praying. Three things happened at the same time. Snape fell to the floor, dead. Harry could tell he was not Snape at the same time as he sensed the life being literally sucked out of him. An instant later, an anti-apparition ward of an intensity that he had never experienced before descended on them. He hadn't tried yet but he knew he had met his match, this time. While trying to decide what to do, several blasts hit the side of the house, shaking it to it's foundation.

"Hermione, get to the floo!" he shouted as he fell back to his standard defense of raising a wall of bedrock around them. The blasts continued but were no longer hitting the house, for now.

Hermione ignored him and was feeling around for Ron. When she found him, she pulled off the cloak and nearly fainted. Ron's skull had been partially blasted away and his brain was visible. It was obviously damaged and had a clear ooze seeping from the wound.

Harry rushed over and yelled, "Get the floo powder!" to his wife. She ran to obey as Harry picked up Ron. When she threw it into the fireplace, instead of a green fire, nothing happened.

"No!" shouted Hermione. She turned back to look at Harry and was drawn again to the man in his arms. The blasts were loosening the barrier around them.

"Grab hold," said Harry and he tried with all of his might to apparate away. It didn't work. Outside, a hole was made in the bedrock and Harry saw a giant's hand widening the opening.

"Giants!" he cried. Now starting to come close to despair, he set Ron back down and prepared to fight. Then it hit him. "Slider!" he called. "Help us, Slider!" He looked around, never having had to wait this long for a response. Slider did not appear.

"Where can he be?" asked Hermione. She looked back through the window in time to see it shattered with a large rock. The rock missed her but the glass didn't. She fell to her knees, screaming; her hands covering her eyes.

Harry fired a reducto at the giant. He was hurt but not killed. Giants are tough that way. He moved away from the beam as another giant came into view.

Harry grabbed Hermione's robes and tried to pull her behind a more secure part of the wall. "Slider!" he called again. He fired another reducto at the closest giant. It was hit directly in the chest and didn't figure out which way to move in time. A gaping hole appeared and the behemoth was down.

Harry heard the sounds of the Death Eaters, apparently trying to break more holes in the barrier. They were shouting now; in triumph, he guessed. The second giant that had come through was now out of sight. Harry was trying to guess where he was when a side wall was suddenly removed.

The giant was pulling back for another swing. Harry pushed Hermione to the side and was about to try to finish the monster when a stray ricochet from behind him caused him to lose his balance. Before he hit the ground, the giant had seen to it that he hit a wall, first. As the roof over his head began to teeter precariously, he heard the sounds of his barrier wall being thrown down. After that, he faded into darkness to the haunting strains of Hermione's screams.

Author's note: Experienced readers know I like to have the bad guys win once in a while. Don't worry, though. It's sort of like the old Batman show. You know that no matter how bad it looks, he'll be back next week. Ron, on the other hand...

Until next week - thanks for reading.

Dad


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48 – Ron's Brain

October 1st, 1997 – Late at night

"Enervate" The spell shook Harry and he was, at some level, aware of it. He then drifted back into his dreamless sleep.

"ENERVATE!" The added vehemence of the spell shook him to near consciousness. His eyes fluttered a bit as he tried to awaken. He heard screaming in the background. Or was it shouting? In any event, his aching head was trying to sort itself out as he struggled to regain his senses.

"ENERVATE!" shouted a new, lower-pitched voice. There was a bit more of a punch, this time, and he was already pretty close to being awake. He leaped to his feet, only to fall down again. Quickly rising, he reached for his wand but it wasn't in his pocket. Looking around, he saw he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. Poppy was standing in front of him, red faced with her arms outstretched and apparently attempting to block Honey from cursing him. Honey? She looked furious. First things first. Where was Hermione? He looked around. Minerva was also in the room. She, like Honey and Poppy, looked highly emotional and also had her wand out.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, beginning to realize just how much his head was aching. He put his hands to his temples and rubbed them, gingerly.

"Hermione?" screamed Honey. She pushed Poppy to the side and grabbed Harry's arms, pulling them down. "Why don't you ask about Ron? He's the one who's head was half blown off! Don't you care if he's alive?" She let go of Harry and dropped to his bed, erupting in tears and wails.

"Ron!" he shouted. How could he have forgotten? "Where is he?" He frantically began scurrying about the hospital, looking for any signs of his wife or friend.

"Harry," said Poppy, "both Ron and Hermione are in St. Mungo's. Hermione had some severe lacerations to her right eye but should recover. Ron..." she faltered.

"Ron's dying," sobbed Honey. "They were talking about sending for a muggle healer to save... to save.. " she broke down again.

"To save what they could," said Poppy, quietly. "He isn't responsive and can't always breathe on his own. It is beyond the powers of magic to heal him and they were hoping that the muggles, who have a lot of experience in this sort of injury, would be better able to help him."

Harry's mind was spinning, but not from his concussion. "I've got to go to him," he said.

"Why do you think I came back for you?" asked Honey, rhetorically. "Let's go." She grabbed his arm.

"Not without me, you aren't," said McGonagall. She strode forward and took his other arm.

"Or me," said Poppy, stepping up but unsure where to hold on to Harry.

In spite of everything, Harry laughed. "Has it occurred to any of you that five minutes ago, I was unconscious?" he asked the women.

"Stop whining," said Poppy. She decided to hold onto Harry with a bear hug.

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry and popped them into the lobby of St. Mungo's.

Poppy and Honey led the way to the emergency healing rooms. There seemed to be a lot of activity in all of them but they didn't stop to see why that would be. Within seconds, they were bursting through the doors of Ron's room.

Harry gasped. Two healers were observing the open skull of Ron. There was a sort of blue glow surrounding the opening. The third man in the room was obviously a muggle doctor. His white coat and stethoscope gave him away. The three of them were consulting with each other. Harry distinctly heard the words 'better to let him die.'

Rushing forward, he focused on his friend. The healers tried to interfere but Minerva McGonagall shooed them off to the side so Harry could concentrate. Honey took her position on the other side of Ron. She held his hand but did not talk or otherwise disturb either of them. Everyone was silent as Harry gazed at his friend. He remained silent but the power emanating from him was noticeable, even to the muggle. He was searching; searching for signs of the man inside the shattered body.

Harry could tell that this situation might be beyond the powers of even Fawkes to heal. He instinctively knew how to begin. The brain injury needed direct, physical treatment. That required tears. This might be the hard part. Harry had hardened himself in the past few months to emotional pain. He had seen and done too much to cry over anything. Somehow, though, he needed to get that part of his humanity back or Ron was doomed. There was also something else that might prevent him from proceeding. The muggle doctor had said that it might be better to let Ron die. If Harry fixed the physical defects of his brain but failed to restore Ron, he would condemn his best friend to maybe one hundred years of a half life; neither alive nor dead. Once begun, there could be no turning back.

Harry thought of all of the things that he and Ron had done together. Starting with the first train ride to Hogwarts when they had chatted and eaten way too much candy, they had been friends. He and Ron had had their squabbles during the years, most notably when Harry was chosen as the fourth champion during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but they had gotten over that and had basically been brothers for years. Harry tried to feel sadness at the possible loss of Ron but he had lost so much already that he had no more tears for it.

Suddenly, Harry realized that it wouldn't be tears of sadness, but tears of joy that would save Ron; tears of love. He envisioned a cured Ron, standing up and joking with him. He concentrated with all of his imagination to make it real. He was talking with Ron. It would be like old times. Ron would live and be with him, always. They would grow older with Hermione and Honey. Their children would play together and eventually attend Hogwarts. Their sons would both be the same age, of course, and the rivalry between Harry and Ron would be to see which one would be Head Boy. Harry smiled broadly as he filled in the jibes and kidding this would entail. The future was bright and sunny. So bright that it made his eyes water thinking about it. He felt the first tear slide down his cheek and it brought him back. With the vision of little Arthur and James growing up in his mind's eye, Harry let his tears flow.

They splattered onto the blue glow surrounding the wound at first but McGonagall removed that obstruction with a flick of her wand. The smile on Harry's face and the love behind it so overflowed through the room that people in the hallway stopped and looked in. Harry could feel Arthur and Molly a couple of rooms away. Harry guessed that Arthur had taken Molly there to calm herself. He sent them his love and they, too, felt comforted. Within a few moments of the first drops hitting the brain itself, the visible damage to the structure began to become undone. Once the brain looked whole, the membrane surrounding it resealed itself and finally the skull began to take shape.

Honey, not having Harry's intrinsic knowledge of the amount of damage left to be undone, started to call Ron's name. Harry let her do so, taking the time to recover a bit and heal his own concussion. He would need all of his faculties to proceed to the next phase.

Molly and Arthur, calmed by the hidden love sent their way, came into the room. Molly rushed to Ron's side and, seeing the wound healed, embraced her son. She was weeping uncontrollably again, but this time, like it was with Harry, they were tears of joy. Arthur was also gazing at his son but eventually looked up at Harry.

"So, is he okay, now?" he asked. He seemed to understand that he wasn't.

At this question, Molly looked first at Arthur and then to the man he had addressed. The sudden drop in Harry's mood made everyone in the room shiver.

"I don't know," said Harry. "I had to fix the physical damage first but I'm not sure if Ron is still in there."

Molly looked confused. "You mean he might still die?" she asked, the fear in her eyes unmasked.

Harry paused. He didn't know how to say this but he had to be honest. Taking a deep breath, he said, "The damage to Ron's brain has been repaired. He will not die of those wounds. However, I made a deal with myself and what I believe would be his wishes. If I can't find Ron when I enter his mind; if it looks like he will be lost forever; I will make it so he can rest in peace." He waited for this to be digested by Ron's parents.

They both looked at him in stunned, and apparently petrified, silence. Honey was the first to speak, however.

"You're saying if Ron's brain was damaged to the point where he no longer exists, despite your repairs, you will destroy his body?" she half asked, half clarified.

"Yes," said Harry. "I won't let him suffer, let you suffer, if all is lost. He wouldn't want that."

Molly stood between Harry and her son, a look of anger flashing across her face. "You get away from him!" she ordered. She was once again the protector of her children. "You think I'll stand by while you murder my son?" She was starting to fume.

Arthur quietly stepped up and asked Molly, "Would you sentence Ron to a living hell?"

Molly turned to face her husband, shocked by what he had said. "I want my son to live. Is that so wrong?" Her fury at the injustice of it all was beginning to take hold.

"I want Ron to live, too, Molly," said Honey, "but not just as a body lying on a bed. I know Ron pretty well now; better than you if you think he'd want that. If Harry can find him, everything else will fall into place. If not, he'd be better off totally gone. I choose to believe that Ron will be fine. I refuse to believe anything else until all hope has faded."

Molly walked over and embraced her possibly future daughter-in-law. The two of them sat in some nearby chairs and comforted each other. Harry noticed that the doctor and healers had already done so along with Minerva and Poppy. Smiling, he said, "I love working in front of an audience."

Arthur also smiled and said, "Good luck, son." He then took the last chair in the room.

Harry summoned one of his own chairs and sat next to Ron's head. He turned it towards him and looked in his eyes. They had a vacant look to them that worried him. He then said, "Ron. This is Harry. I need to come into your mind. I need to find you. Call to me and let me in. I need to find you and help you come back to us, Ron. Everyone here loves you. Your mum and dad are here, Ron. They love you and are waiting for you. Honey's here, too. She loves you and wants you to come back to her. McGonagall is here, Ron. She wants that homework from last year turned in right away." A chuckle came from the room but Harry saw a slight flicker of light in Ron's eyes and took the opening.

He entered Ron's mind and the first thing he noticed was the oddness. A part of him thought that was to be expected, it being Ron's mind, but the less humorous part realized what the difference was between Ron's mind and Madeye's or Tonks'; The house of Ron's mind was like a jigsaw puzzle. Parts of it looked normal, like anyone's mind would look during legilimancy. Other parts seemed to be brand new. No, that wasn't right, thought Harry. It was more than new. Some of his mind's house was blank. It was as if it were a coloring book, waiting for a child to draw on it. Harry noticed that this was a feature of parts of the foundation. Most of it was solid as stone but here and there, it looked almost ethereal, like it had just come into existence and wasn't yet ready to bear any weight. He called out for Ron but heard no response. He walked up to the door and walked in.

He gasped. Large areas of the wall, a place where most people's memories hung like so many paintings, were blank. The walls themselves were in the same condition as the foundation; unsure and transient, waiting to become solid enough to be useful. Once again, he called for Ron. Once again, there was no reply. He looked at the paintings that were still there. They seemed to be from his childhood. Of course, this was Ron's first room, the start of his memory. His life was built onto it. Harry saw paintings of Ron and his parents, playing with a toy broom. There was one of Ron and Bill, many years apart in age but still close, with Bill reading a quidditch magazine to him. He saw Ginny, a small baby sitting with her only slightly older brother at a small table. On and on the paintings went. Harry reached the blank areas and wondered what was lost forever. He left that room and moved into another. He called for Ron. Again, no reply. The paintings in this room were of an older, but still pre-Hogwarts Ron. The paintings were still mostly of his family but they had expanded into the world around the Burrow. Their excursions into Ottery St. Catchpole were recorded along with the occasional trip to Hogwarts to watch one of his brothers play quidditch. Again, many paintings were missing.

Harry wandered from room to room; always calling out for Ron and always being disappointed. He found that the rest of the house of memories was basically the same. Some rooms had more damage than others but, overall, Harry thought most of the memories remained. It seemed that the most damage was done to the first two rooms. He came across one room that had nothing but memories that concerned Harry and Hermione. All of their excursions during school were there. Harry noticed with a laugh that one, the memories of the trip to see Aragog, had a series of posts with a velvet rope surrounding it; apparently to prevent him from accidentally remembering it. He was saddened to see the areas that were damaged and repaired. In this case, at least, either he or Hermione could share their memories with him when they discovered which were lost.

Past this room was one that didn't seem to belong in this house at all. It was much larger and well constructed. The wood paneled walls and ornate carpet indicated that it was a special room; a precious room. Every painting that remained in here was of an experience he had had with Honey. Their first date. The dinner at Grimmauld Place. The times spent out by the lake. The...Oh, my! Harry decided that this particular painting was none of his business and moved on. After a bit, he remembered to call for Ron. He didn't hear a reply but did hear something. He looked around but saw nothing but the paintings on the wall and a bit of damage. He could see the back of a damaged painting on the floor, the canvas ripped and burned. It was covering something. No, it was being held by someone.

Harry rushed over to the canvas and gently pulled it back. He met some resistance and let go. Moving around to the other side, he saw a confused and dazed Ron holding onto the only thing that gave him comfort; the remnants of a painting of Honey. Harry couldn't tell for sure but it looked like one of their many trips to the lake.

"Ron," said Harry, gently. Ron didn't respond. He just gazed at the painting. Tears were in his eyes as he stroked the image of Honey.

Harry reached out and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron didn't respond for a few seconds but eventually glanced sideways. Harry smiled and again called his name. Ron recoiled and clutched his painting even tighter. Harry realized that Ron was afraid of losing Honey, too, and backed off.

Harry was unsure what to do. Ron was still here, but barely. It seemed that he was in danger of insanity if not already its victim. Maintaining his distance, he said, "Ron. You were hurt but you won't be hurt anymore. It's safe to come out of this room, now. I'm here with you." He waited for a response.

Ron had looked at Harry while he was talking but now turned back to Honey. He was calm again but didn't seem to understand what Harry had said. He tried again. "Ron. You are at St. Mungo's. Your mum and dad are here as well as Honey." He stopped. Ron had turned towards him the moment he said 'Honey'. Harry seized the opening. "Yes, Ron. Honey is waiting for you. She came and got me to find you. Will you come and talk to her?"

Ron didn't say anything. Still clutching his painting, he turned to Harry and said, "Ah...ah...ah" and stopped. Again, tears started to fall.

"What is it, Ron?" he asked, not understanding. What could be so terrible that Ron couldn't tell him.

Again, Ron turned to Harry. He said, "Ah...ah...ah...ah...ah"

"I don't understand," said Harry, starting to panic. "What are you trying to say?" Wait. That was it! "Ron, are you trying to say you can't talk?" Sort of a silly question to ask, he thought, but he waited for Ron's answer.

Ron reached down and drew the letters 'Y' 'E' 'S' on the floor. Harry sighed with relief. "You're okay, Ron," he said and wept tears of happiness; this time for real.

Ron reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. He drew the letters 'N' 'O' on the floor. Harry was confused.

"Ron, you can communicate. We'll sort the talking part out soon enough, mate," he said. "We need to get you conscious again, though. Everyone will want to see that you're going to be fine."

Ron started to get angry. He pointed at Honey and then at his feet.

"Honey and your feet," said Harry, out loud. "I guess I need another clue."

Ron grimaced and started to write on the floor, again. Harry read each word as it made sense. "I...can't...walk," he said and then his face fell. He knew now why Ron was resisting his recovery. He couldn't talk. He couldn't walk. What else might be wrong with him? He knew why Ron was resisting waking up.

"You're worried that Honey won't love you anymore?" asked Harry. Ron didn't reply but looked down at his useless feet. Harry laughed. Ron looked up, affronted. "You'll make the perfect husband, Ron," said Harry. "You'll be quiet and won't run around on her." Then, in a more serious tone, he said, "She wants you back, mate; any way she can get you."

Ron sat frozen for a moment before a smile crossed his lips. He beamed at Harry before a broom appeared in the room. Ron summoned it to him and he rolled onto it. He needed a metaphysical means of traveling in his mind and walking was now removed. The next logical mode of transportation would, of course, be a broom. He rose straight up and, with a final kiss to the painting that helped him will himself to live, he placed it back on the wall. Although incomplete, he wanted as much of it as he had and a frame appeared around it. Harry noticed that Ron was wearing the same clothes that he had on in the painting and Honey was also in her current robes. He assumed that this painting was of this afternoon when they had supper, down by the lake. Together, Ron and Harry returned to his front door.

"I want to show you something, Ron," said Harry. They went onto Ron's porch and Harry pointed at the foundation. "I don't think you'll be permanently silent or in a wheelchair," said Harry. "Those blank spots are probably where you learned to walk and talk. I repaired your brain but couldn't put back what was in it. The damage is gone, though, and we only have to replace what was destroyed. I think that, in time, you'll be more or less okay." Ron nodded. Harry, still being Harry and Ron still deserving a bit of kidding said, "Just don't let Tonks teach you how to talk. I don't think I could get used to you with a cockney accent." They both laughed but Ron's laughter sounded so wrong that he stopped immediately, his eye's filling with tears.

"Don't you dare stop laughing," ordered Harry, sternly. "I don't care what it sounds like and neither will anyone else. You need all the humor you can get, right now."

Ron nodded and composed himself. He indicated that Harry should leave and that he would awaken as soon as he could.

Harry came back to his own body to find Hermione sitting next to him. He embraced her and gave her such a long kiss that Arthur had to eventually cough to bring him back to reality.

"Sorry," said Harry. He looked at Hermione. She wore a black patch over her right eye. He turned to Poppy and said, "I thought you said they would sort out her eye." He was starting to get upset at her injury.

"It will be fine," said Hermione. "The potion they used at the end makes it sensitive to light, that's all. I have to wear it for a couple of days and then I'll be okay."

Harry sighed in relief. He then turned to the others. "Ron has lost some of his memories; mostly early childhood but a few others. He has forgotten how to talk." Molly and Honey both gasped. Arthur closed his eyes. Harry continued, determined to get it all out as soon as he could. "He has also lost the ability to walk."

"No!" shouted Molly, bursting into tears. Arthur was trying to comfort her but also seemed devastated. Honey was still shocked.

Quickly, Harry said, "We think that both of these conditions are temporary. I saw that parts of his foundation were brand new and I think that he just needs to re-learn some of these skills." He then added, "Oddly, he can still write and will communicate that way."

"I'll never understand magic," said Dr. Morgan. His son and granddaughter were both magical, making him a qualified consultant when St. Mungo's needed some muggle advice. "How can you know all of this? He hasn't even regained consciousness, yet."

"I visited him in his mind," said Harry. "The mind's perception of itself is fairly accurate. A friend of mine who has, or I should say, had a wooden leg in real life also had one in his mind. Ron is getting around with a broom, right now. He also needs some parchment, ink and a quill."

Hermione reached into her robes and pulled something out. "Or he needs a ball-point pen and a notepad. She had picked a few of each up after their trip to Souter Lighthouse.

Ron's head moved and Honey leaped up to look at him. She had competition from Molly, of course.

"Ron," said Honey. "It's me; Honey." She looked into his eyes.

"I'm here, too," said Molly, from next to Honey.

Ron looked up and moved his eyes to each of them. He smiled and they both beamed at him. Ron then looked back to the other side and noticed Hermione. His smile faded a bit. After a moment, he waved his hand back and forth.

"Is he waving?' asked Arthur, unsure of anything.

"No," said Harry. "I think he wants a pen and paper."

Hermione put the pen in Ron's hand. She held the paper up so he could see. He wrote the word 'MAY' on the page.

"May?" asked Honey. Ron motioned to bring the notebook back.

This time he wrote 'T' underneath the word 'MAY"

Hermione looked as confused as anyone. "Are you sure you aren't leaving something out?" she asked.

Ron picked up the pen while Hermione held the notebook and wrote 'R' above the 'MAY'.

Hermione read it and said, "R, MAY, T" Ron indicated that she should read the whole page faster. Hermione said, "R MAY T, R MAY T" and started to laugh. She gave him a hug and kiss, tears forming under her patch.

At the confused looks on everyone else's faces, she explained, "He's making fun of my patch. He tricked me into talking like a pirate. It means he's going to be okay. He'll still be a prat but he'll be the one we are used to."

The healers and doctor began to examine Ron to try to determine the extent of any permanent damage. They waved their wands over him from head to toe but it was the muggle who got the most striking reaction from Ron when he ran a pen quickly along the sole of his foot. You would have thought he had hit him with an Enervate spell.

After the healers had decided that Ron would not die and would appear to have a chance of at least making some sort of a recovery, in time, the only thing left to decide was where he would do the recovering. Naturally, Molly had a few thoughts on the idea.

"I would think that it would be obvious," she said at once. "At a time like this, a boy needs his mother." She went over and felt his forehead. No one, including Molly, knew why.

Ron had lost a lot of his memories and much of his motor functions but he did know one thing; his mother's mothering, a wonderful thing as a baby, comforting as a young boy and tolerable as a pre-teen, was exactly what he didn't want as a man. He looked at Harry with desperation in his eyes.

Harry understood. The problem was how to convey this unwanted information to Molly. He decided to steal a joke from Hermione. He was her husband and could do that sort of thing. "Mrs. Weasley," he began, "Ron has acquired a few new tastes that you should know about."

Molly looked up at Harry with bewilderment. Even Hermione wondered where he was going with this. If she only knew!

"What sort of new tastes?" she asked. Ron had never complained about her cooking.

"For one thing," said Harry with a straight face, "these days, he prefers Honey with his toast."

Hermione, Honey and Minerva all groaned. Arthur smiled. Molly looked confused. That left it up to Ron to laugh. He had been under a tremendous strain. His subconscious was aware as his brain was attacked and started to deteriorate. He was clutching at his most intense source of comfort when Harry had stopped the inevitable end of his life. He had to deal with the loss of his most common modes of communication and personal transport. Now that it looked like he would at least be okay, if not restored, the tension needed a release and Harry had provided it. He laughed and laughed. It sounded more like a braying donkey than his normal laugh but it was genuine. Everyone but Harry was caught off guard by the change. Before Ron could notice the stunned looks, Harry started to laugh with him. He was soon followed by Hermione, Arthur and Honey. McGonagall contented herself with merely smiling while Molly didn't know what to do. She eventually smiled, too.

"Mrs. Weasley," said Honey, "I think that Ron would be more comfortable if I took care of him. He's a man, now, and it might be a bit embarrassing to have his mother help him with his personal care. Taking a bath, for instance."

Molly looked at Honey for the longest time. She was trying to figure something out. Finally, she asked, "So when did he ask you?"

Now it was Honey's turn to appraise the older witch. She first had to decide how she meant that and then she had to actually remember. "Sunday morning," she replied at last. "It was over breakfast. He said he loved me and wanted to marry me. At the time, I just said I would think about it."

"And have you?" asked Arthur, stepping into the conversation.

"I didn't have to," said Honey. She went back to stand next to Ron. Looking at him she said, "Tonks was right. I will." A smile blossomed on her face as Ron reached up to coax her into an embrace.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49 – Revelations

October 1st, 1997

Shortly before midnight

It was decided that Ron should spend the night at St. Mungo's before returning to Hogwarts. McGonagall had generously offered to take Honey's classes for the next day so that she and Ron could make whatever arrangements and accommodations they deemed necessary. Harry noticed that Minerva made a point of not inquiring about the exact location of Ron's quarters where he'll began his recuperation.

Despite his status as a department head, Arthur decided that he, along with Molly, of course, would stay the night with Ron and help see him back to Hogwarts. Since Honey wasn't going anywhere, there was a good chance that they would get to know each other a bit better before the morning.

Harry and Hermione were debating the merits of leaving for their own bed, either at school or Grimmauld Place when Poppy stepped into the room. Harry had assumed that she had gone back to Hogwarts but she had merely stepped into the hallway to look around.

"Harry?" asked Poppy in an urgent but hushed voice. She had a concerned look on her face and motioned for Harry to join her near the doorway. Hermione joined him as he walked over to the nurse.

"What is it?" he whispered, hoping that her demeanor didn't concern Ron.

"There was an attack at Azkaban," said Poppy. "You-Know-Who's Death Eaters overwhelmed the guards and about one hundred of the ones held prisoner there were freed."

"That's terrible," said Hermione. Turning to Harry she asked, "Do you think that Scrimgeour didn't believe your warning? You let him know first thing this morning that an attack was coming." She looked upset that they weren't taken seriously.

"He was there," said Poppy. "He had a bunch of aurors with him. That's who these people are in all these other rooms."

Harry was shocked. "The Minister was there with extra aurors, waiting for an attack they expected and they still lost?" How could this be? He, Ron and Hermione had been on the receiving end of a major attack, too. That brought up another question.

"Hermione?" asked Harry. "How, exactly did we manage to survive our attack. Ron was down; I was unconscious and you, unless I am mistaken, were in no condition to repel giants and Death Eaters, either. What happened?"

"I'm not sure when you were knocked out," began Hermione. "I was pretty preoccupied with my eyes at the time. All I know was that when I heard your bedrock barrier go down, I started hearing the most horrendous screaming I have ever heard. There were some sounds that went with it that I wouldn't even want to guess at." She paused at this, obviously shaken but Harry was desperate for the specifics.

"Go on," said Harry. "What did you hear next?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, suddenly reticent to talk about her experience at all. "Nothing made any sense. I heard the giant start to roar and then it was as if a dog were being crushed, the howls and shrieks were just so unreal. I thought I heard Winky calling for us but that might have been my imagination. There was a tremendous amount of noise and activity around us but I couldn't see anything, of course. I'm not really sure after that. I did find out that when your eyes are injured, nothing else matters. At some point, Slider and the Hogwarts Free Elves arrived because I heard them call all of our names. At first I was scared to answer, not being able to see who was around, but eventually they found us anyway and brought us here."

"I'm glad they finally showed up," said Harry. "I wonder where they were?"

"Maybe up north," suggested Hermione. "I think that if Azkaban was hit and so were we, it is likely that Voldemort just pulled out all the stops and tried to hit the Fortress North at the same time."

"We can guess all we want," said Harry, "but we won't know anything until we talk to Slider."

"What can Slider be doing for Harry Potter," said Slider, a moment later.

"This isn't a secure area, Slider," said Harry, as much to remind himself and Hermione as the elf, "but we would like a quick version of what you know about these attacks. Did Voldemort send anyone up to the Northern Fortress?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider.

Harry waited. Finally, he said, "Not quite that quick. How many Death Eaters were sent?"

"Forty-one Death Eaters is being sent to attack the arm room in the ice, Harry Potter," said Slider.

"Forty-one?" asked Hermione. "That's an odd number." She regretted saying it the moment it passed her lips.

"Very good, Hermione," said Harry, sarcastically. "I guess those Arithmancy classes are starting to pay off."

"Ha, ha," said Hermione. "Don't worry; I'll get even with you."

"Back to business," said Harry. "Did the little surprise that Hermione and you set up work at all?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Slider. "All of the Death Eaters is staying there and is not going anywhere."

"I hope you picked them up," said Hermione. They would all be dead by now if he hadn't.

"They is all being in the arm room, just as Mistress Hermione is saying" said Slider. "Two is being dead and fifteen is having bones broken."

"Good Lord," exclaimed Poppy. "We need to get them to my hospital as soon as possible." She seemed pretty agitated.

"Not with their arms," said Harry. "We'll go and remove those as quickly as we can and then we can transport the wounded to your hospital and the rest to their cells. Slider. We'll need three or four elves to assist us with the arm removal and to transport the Death Eaters to either Poppy's Hospital or a cell in the Fortress. Before you arrange that, the three of us will need to be taken to the arm room. Just give me a moment to tell Ron where we're going."

Harry went over and said, "It looks like Hermione's plan worked. We have to go take care of the survivors for awhile but we'll be back in time to help you get home." Ron gave Harry the thumb's up and smiled.

"Did you say 'survivors'?" asked Honey. "What on Earth happened to them?"

"I'll tell you later," said Harry. "Some of them are hurt so we need to remove their arms and send them back to Poppy to get sorted out."

"Okay," said Honey. "Have a nice time." She turned back to her love.

"Let's go, Slider," said Harry.

Hermione was starting to get a little worried. It was true that they had been doing this sort of thing for some time now and removing the arms of Death Eaters didn't have as much effect on them as it could have due to the ability to replace them but Harry seemed to be taking it a bit better than he should. Perhaps it was the whistling that bothered her.

"Are you feeling okay, dear?" she asked. She had finished with Number 27 and was waiting for her next customer. For the sake of speed, they were just putting matching numbers on the arms and foreheads of the Death Eaters for now. After Poppy had healed their injuries, the arms would be properly identified with the names of their former owners.

"Never better," said Harry. He was flipping the arm of Number 28 over and catching it by its hand. Stopping for a second, he examined the fingers closely and said, "My goodness. Don't they ever trim their nails?" Shrugging, he tossed it into its box. Jumper took the box over to the stack while Poppy did a quick diagnostic charm.

"This one can go to his cell," she said. "Nothing too seriously wrong with him." Jumper apparated the Death Eater to a cell in the Fortress.

Sleepy brought in Number 29 for Hermione and she started to number him. She worked in silence a while longer while Harry started on Number 30. Eventually, she said, "It just seems that you are a bit over exuberant, considering the task we are performing." She pulled Number 29's arm out of his robes.

Harry held the hand of Number 30 up to his chin, as if to think. "I suppose you're right," he agreed. "I'm just happy for Ron and Honey." He thought about that and said, "I mean the getting married part. They both seemed as happy about it as we were."

"Put this one in the hospital, under guard," said Poppy to Slider.

"I suppose so," said Hermione. "I guess that's a good enough reason to be happy." She reached up to kiss him and they embraced with one each of their arms and one of their Death Eaters.

Shortly after that, Harry was met with a pleasant surprise when Number 32 was brought in. "Well, well, well," he said, redundantly. "Look who we have here."

October 2nd, 1997

Just after midnight

When Harry and Hermione returned to Ron's room, they found a stranger sitting in one of the chairs. He seemed to know Arthur and they were chatting. Molly and Honey were both next to a sleeping Ron. They also seemed to be pleasantly discussing various items and issues. From the the hushed excitement that seemed to permeate their conversation, Harry assumed that the subject was the upcoming nuptials. When the stranger saw Harry and Hermione arrive he stood up and introduced himself.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter; Mrs. Potter," he began, "I'm Sergeant Yerkes." He extended his hand.

"Good evening, Sergeant Yerkes," said Harry, shaking hands with the auror. "Or should I say good morning? It must be getting pretty late." He looked at his watch as Sergeant Yerkes took Hermione's hand, as well.

"I suppose it is," agreed Yerkes. "I must congratulate you on the remarkable recovery of Arthur's son. From what I've heard, it was nothing short of miraculous."

"It was fortunate that I could help," said Harry, not wishing to give away too much information.

"Indeed," said Yerkes. "Now, on to the reason that I was sent. I believe you have heard that there was an attack on Azkaban last night?" Harry nodded. "The Minister was there with about six dozen aurors to complement the regular guards. During the attack, he was severely injured."

This news shocked both Harry and Hermione but Yerkes quickly added, "He survived the battle and is recuperating now in a room just down the hall. He regained consciousness an hour or so ago. His first request, after receiving news on the status of his men, was to talk with you. Do you have a moment or two to spare?"

This news also shocked Harry and Hermione. They looked quickly at each other and Harry said, "Sure."

"Great," said Yerkes, rising from his chair. "He's just a short way down the hall." He led the way and Harry and Hermione, with a wave to the Weasleys, both current and future, followed him.

As they started out, Harry noticed that all of the rooms in the emergency healing ward they went by had one or two patients with at least as many visitors. Judging by their demeanor, age and snippets of conversations, he guessed that they were all aurors of some type or other. It seemed odd to him that with so many Death Eaters suddenly free, that all available aurors weren't out looking for them. He then realized that they had all been in a major battle, it was after midnight, and it was likely that if they did manage to find any of the escapees, about three hundred of their friends would be at hand.

About seven doors down from Ron's, they came upon a room with more than the usual number of visitors. Yerkes greeted the aurors on guard quietly and they stepped aside. He then signaled for Harry and Hermione to precede him into the room. When they entered, Harry was surprised to see Percy Weasley there, taking notes while Rufus Scrimgeour dictated. Kingsley Shacklebolt was also in attendance.

"Gringott's is more than capable of taking care of itself," said Scrimgeour, "at least for now. Make sure that St. Mungo's is secure; it would be a prime target due to the necessity of healing those Death Eaters that we might have wounded as well as finishing off whatever aurors are being treated." He looked up and noticed Harry. "Harry Potter. I have you to thank for all this," he said, indicating the bandages covering his otherwise bare chest. He grimaced as his wounds gave him a little grief from the awkward movements.

"I'm sorry, Minister," said Harry, at once. "When we sent the warning, we had no idea that the attacks would be so overwhelming."

"That's why I'm thanking you, Harry," said Scrimgeour. He smiled. "The normal contingent of guards at Azkaban is about forty or fifty aurors, combining all positions and shifts. We more than doubled that and felt that would be sufficient. We weren't able to defend against the, I'm just guessing here, three hundred Death Eaters that Voldemort sent but we were able to cover the retreat to the point where we only lost fourteen aurors. That's still a major blow but it is much better than losing the entire guard." He then looked more closely at them, especially at Hermione's patch. "I see that you've had a bit of trouble yourself. Shall we combine our knowledge of tonights events?"

"I think that might be a good idea," agreed Harry. Turning to Percy, he said, "Before we start, I need to tell you that Ron is just down the hall with your parents. He was hurt pretty bad but will be okay, eventually."

"I've already been there, Harry," said Percy. "I plan on going back in a bit but this was a major catastrophe and we need to deal with it, first. Before even that, however, I must thank you for helping Ron. I didn't have time to get all of the details from my parents but they said that you saved his life."

"Harry was able to repair the damage," said Hermione, "but it will be your future sister-in-law that will get him back to normal, if possible."

"She does seem to want the job," agreed Percy, rising. "If you'll excuse me, I have to take care of a few things for the Minister and check back in with Ron. Perhaps we'll run into each other again."

"Sure, Percy," said Harry. "I'll see you at your mum's birthday party, at the very least."

After Percy left, Harry and Hermione sat down with Shacklebolt and Scrimgeour to discuss the past evening's events. Shacklebolt had shut the door, placed a silencing charm on the room and unfolded his portable map on the table. It was one of the original models and only worked around itself. The remote maps that Martha's crew used were still too secret to give to the Ministry. In this application, however, the older map was perfectly adequate.

"Well, Harry," said Scrimgeour, "to show that I have nothing to hide, I'll go first." He then thought about it and amended, "Actually, I'll start and Shacklebolt will finish. I missed the ending of my tale." He smiled grimly and began.

"I don't know how much you have heard," said Scrimgeour, clenching his teeth at the effort but not choosing to delegate this task, "but I took your warning seriously. In the time it would take my illustrious predecessor to issue a statement to the press noting your delusions, I amassed a small army and prepared a defensive strategy for Azkaban. I agreed with your assessment that Voldemort would react quickly to the prisoner transfer and decided that an attack would take place no later than Thursday night. I suspected that it would happen much quicker and acted on my hunch. Most aurors that get to be my age tend to have learned to trust their hunches." He chuckled at this and instantly regretted it, wincing from the pain.

"So there we waited," he continued. "I moved the prisoners we were most concerned about, the Death Eaters, to the south end of the fortress. It would be the farthest from their regular cells and it was also near one of the two emergency floo portals. I had ordered the other portal shut down completely to prevent a traitor from aiding Voldemort. The normal staff of fifty aurors only allowed about ten actual guards to be on duty at any particular time. I assumed that any assault would be geared to combat that number plus designed to deal with the eventual arrival of the off-duty aurors and support staff. By bringing seventy more aurors, I should have been able to turn the tables on any reasonably sized attack."

"But Voldemort isn't known for being reasonable," said Hermione. "He has been gathering conscripted Death Eaters for quite a while just so that he would win, even if his plans became known."

"The Death Eaters weren't the half of it, Mrs. Potter," said Scrimgeour. "Dementors attacked from the north end of the island at eight o'clock. That part of my defenses worked, at least. They hit us from the wrong end but we still had to repel them. Kingsley, here, and I are able to send out fairly powerful Patroni so we went with the Alpha squad to help out." He stopped to look at Harry. "It seems to me that you had some trouble with dementors, once. I was working for Fudge at the time and the story was suppressed but from what I heard then and what I know now, I could have really used your services."

"How many dementors were there?" asked Harry, his professional curiosity causing him to wonder if his presence might have made a difference.

"I'd say sixty or so," said Scrimgeour, looking at Kingsley for either confirmation or correction.

"Sounds about right," boomed Shacklebolts bass voice. "They were a match for us, at any rate."

"They let us drive them into the north end, though," resumed the Minister. "We thought we were doing well until the spells started flying from behind us. It was a trap. The moment the Death Eaters started attacking, the dementors became much more difficult to deal with. We had to retreat but there was nothing for it but to run. Most of us made it back." He paused a moment out of respect for those who didn't.

"It sounds like your advance preparations were paying off," said Harry. "Moving the prisoners and bringing in what would normally seem like overwhelming force was about all that you could have done. What was the problem with the retreat? Did you have trouble getting to the emergency floo?"

Scrimgeour looked a bit put off by the question but answered. "No, we had access. The problem was time was running out. As I mentioned, we were only able to get a general idea with Kingsley's map but as many as three hundred Death Eaters were storming the fortress. The floo could only handle about one transfer every six or seven seconds. I ordered each auror to take a prisoner with them but Voldemorts forces were advancing so fast that we couldn't spare the time. We had to abandon the Death Eaters in their cells in order to take our wounded with us. Near the end of the battle, I switched over to that designation and Shacklebolt got me back here."

"When you could see the prisoners would be lost, why didn't you take steps to make sure Voldemort couldn't use them?" Harry was tired enough to say what he thought.

Scrimgeour laughed. "What was I supposed to do? Kill them?"

"I would have," said Harry, shocking them all. "I'd put the hundreds of innocent people that might die above known murderers, Minister." He sat back, thinking about how much worse things were going to get.

Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt both stared at Harry for a moment before looking at each other. Slowly, Scrimgeour nodded his head. "I think that I have to agree, Harry," he said, softly. "In the heat of the moment, of course, I didn't think of that option."

Harry smiled. "I think that we both had that problem, Minister." He then began to tell his tale.

"We, that is Ron, Hermione and I, were all waiting in Umbridge's sitting room for Snape," said Harry. "Ron and I were under our invisibility cloaks and Hermione was Umbridge. At eight o'clock, Snape came in through the floo. I sensed someone was with him but invisible and sent them a stunner. Whoever it was, they had already fired a reducto at Hermione. It missed her, of course, but hit Ron. At the same time, we were hit by a group of Death Eaters and giants from the outside."

"Did you say giants?" asked Scrimgeour, interrupting the story. "They haven't been used for about a year."

"Yes," said Harry, "there were at least two of them. Anyway, I put up a wall of bedrock to cover our escape. Oh, I forgot. Snape wasn't really Snape. I didn't have much time to do any further checks, though. He put his hands together and just died. At the same time, an anti-apparition ward of immense strength was erected. We tried to leave through the floo but it didn't work. I couldn't make a dent in that anti-apparition ward, either. About that time, the giants started to get through the barrier. In retrospect, of course, I should have transformed into a dragon and fried them all. I just didn't think of it. Anyway, I called for our commandos but they didn't come. I have no idea why. I managed to kill one giant but the other one got me. Hermione was hurt by then. I have no idea how we got out of there."

Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt shared a meaningful glance at each other. Finally, Scrimgeour said, "It would seem from the resources he used, Voldemort wanted your death about as much as he wanted his Death Eaters. Two giants, at least, you say? That is normally a bit of an overkill for three unsuspecting wizards and witches in an enclosed area. Shutting off the floo is no little trick, either. The most telling, however, is the anti-apparition ward. You come into my private office without so much as getting winded. From your description, Voldemort either talked, or more likely, tricked one of his men into sacrificing their life to increase the power of the anti-apparition spell used. I forget the name of the spell, not really having any intention of using it myself, but it uses the lifeforce of a witch or wizard to dramatically increase its power."

"That would explain a great deal," said Harry. "I would guess that placing his hands together activated everything, somehow. The invisible assassin would then do his best to kill as many of us as he could while the other Death Eaters and the giants would finish us off."

"Yet, somehow, you live," said Scrimgeour. "I've no idea how you managed that trick but I have sent a team to investigate Dolores' house to see what they can find. I'll let you know."

"I have one more source to check," said Harry. "He also will be able to give both of us a report on the third attack."

"Another one?" exclaimed Shacklebolt in disbelief. "Where did this one happen?" Both he and Scrimgeour were surprised and waiting for an explanation.

"This one happened at the same time as the others, near my Fortress," said Harry, wishing to maintain the illusion that he only had one. "We picked up on the fact that Voldemort had planted a portkey target nearby. Actually, about fifty miles away but close enough for an attack. Hermione made a slight adjustment and we were able to capture forty-one of them when they arrived."

"Forty-one?" shouted Scrimgeour. He then controlled himself and, although the room was protected against eavesdropping, said quietly, "Forty-one? And you weren't even there at the time?" He looked at Kingsley, who shrugged. "How did you pull that one off?"

Harry smiled, "It was Hermione's idea, so I'll let her explain it." He sat back in his chair and beamed at his wife.

Hermione blushed, but began. "I should correct Harry. Forty-one attacked us but two died so we should only have thirty-nine prisoners. We seem to have more than that but I don't know why, as yet. As to the trap itself, it was fairly simple, actually," she said. "There is a widely known, but little understood aspect of magical trans..." She was interrupted when a small disk started to vibrate on the table next to the Minister.

"Just a moment," said Scrimgeour, as he picked up the hyperactive object. "Looking at it, he said, "Dawlish is outside the door." Looking up at Kingsley, he said, "Let him in." Turning to face Harry and Hermione, he explained, "Dawlish led the team I sent to Umbridge's house."

Shacklebolt went over to the door and unsealed it. He didn't have time to open it, though. Dawlish beat him to it. Harry had seen Dawlish unhesitatingly attempt to arrest Dumbledore. He had watched from the Astronomy Tower as he, along with Umbridge and a few others attempted to arrest Hagrid. Neither of those activities would be pursued by someone with less than nerves of steel. Nevertheless, Dawlish was ashen faced and slightly trembling as he quickly took a chair. It turned out to be Shacklebolt's chair but the younger auror didn't raise a fuss. When he had consumed a glass of the Minister's water, he was calmed a bit and started his report.

"Never saw anything like it," he began. "We couldn't find any sign of Umbridge. Nothing identifiable, at least. That pretty much goes for everyone we found. Sixteen Death Eaters were dead outside some sort of a huge wall that encircled the house. A couple of them were little more than stains on the ground. Inside the wall, there was a giant that had a hole in his chest. He had less damage than what we think must have been another giant. The bones looked about right but there were pieces everywhere. The wizards inside the house might have been Death Eaters but we'll never know for sure. There was just too much..." He shuddered and tried to prepare another glass of water. Hermione saw his difficulties and calmly took the pitcher and poured the water for him. He quickly consumed that one, as well, and stopped to catch his breath. It was then that he noticed Harry.

"Minister," he said, "this should probably be classified. If the things I saw were known to the public..." He trailed off.

"Potter's okay, Dawlish," said Scrimgeour. "In fact, Umbridge wasn't there at all. It was Harry, here, his wife and their friend Ron Weasley who were attacked."

Dawlish was not convinced. "Three kids?" he asked, in disbelief. "They would have never been able to repel that kind of an attack. It would take an army to do what I saw."

"I agree," said Harry, before anyone could object on his behalf. "We were beat. Ron was dying; Hermione was blinded and I was unconscious. It might be time to bring in the leader of the group that I think was responsible for saving us." Turning to the Minister, he said, "Minister, you have probably deduced the nature of our savior but I don't want it spread around too much. I know and trust Kingsley but Dawlish has usually been on the wrong side where I was concerned. If you say he can be trusted, however, I will trust him to keep this meeting secret."

Scrimgeour thought a second. "I believe I do have some idea on who your 'commandos' are and I do trust Dawlish," he said, "but I believe I must ask him to leave simply to reduce the number of people who have that information." He addressed the older auror. "Jack, it isn't personal. This is just too much of a secret to take any chances with."

Dawlish stood. He said, "In that case, Rufus, I'll head back to finish my part of the investigation." By using the Minister's Christian name, he let his old friend know there were no hard feelings.

After Dawlish left and Shacklebolt resealed the room, Harry said, "Slider. Please come here."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider, predictably. "What can Slider be doing for Harry Potter?"

"Have a seat, Slider," said Harry, summoning one of his own chairs for the elf. It surprised Shacklebolt quite a bit that Slider would accept such an offer, but Scrimgeour was wondering what manner of man would seriously suggest murdering one hundred prisoners five minutes before being overly polite to a house-elf.

"We were discussing the various attacks made by Voldemort last night, Slider," said Harry. "You may not have heard, but there was an attack at Azkaban Prison. That was where Minister Scrimgeour was hurt. Oh, excuse me. Slider, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour. Minister; Kingsley, this is Slider, the Head Elf at Hogwarts and leader of the Hogwarts Free Elves."

None of those being introduced were very happy or sure of what they were supposed to do. Kingsley, perhaps deciding it would be fun to put his boss on the spot, reached out and shook Slider's hand. Slider then took the initiative to offer his tiny hand to the Minister of Magic. Smiling, Scrimgeour took it briefly but did not shake due to his injuries.

"Now that the introductions are out of the way and it it too late to offer tea," said Scrimgeour, "perhaps we can get on with it." He needed some levity in his life at the moment but still had work to do before he could sleep off some of the time while he waited for his injuries to heal.

"Okay," said Harry. "As I was saying, Slider, there was an attack at Azkaban and about one hundred of the original Death Eaters were rescued and most of the people in the rooms around us were hurt. At the same time, Ron, Hermione and I were being attacked at the house of Dolores Umbridge. There was an assassin in the room with us, two giants with a bunch of Death Eaters outside, the floo didn't work and the most powerful anti-apparition ward I have ever felt around us. Ron was injured immediately. I put up a rock wall to protect us but there was no escape. I called for you a couple of times but you didn't come. Shortly after that, Hermione was hurt and I was knocked out by a giant. Can you pick up the story from there?"

"Yes," Harry Potter," said Slider. "We is watching for Death Eaters like you is asking. When we is seeing them, we is going to be putting them in the ice room. We isn't being done but Harry Potter is calling. Slider is leaving Blinky to take care of Death Eaters and we is all going to help Harry Potter. There is being something wrong. We isn't being able to be popping to Harry Potter. We is trying again and again. Slider is thinking that Slider should pop close to Harry Potter. We is doing that and is seeing a big battle with a house inside a wall. Slider is knowing that Harry Potter and his family is being in the house. Slider is seeing Death Eaters all around the house. Some is being inside the wall and some is being outside the wall making holes. There is being two giants inside the wall by the house. Slider and Hogwarts Free Elves is stopping Death Eaters from fighting very fast. We is hearing Harry Potter calling again and we is knowing Harry Potter is needing us. Slider is seeing one giant die. Slider and Hogwarts Free Elves is breaking stone wall to get to Harry Potter but it is taking much time. Slider is then knowing Winky is near. Winky is knocking down wall on other side of the house and..." Slider paused a moment, as if wondering if he should continue.

"I guess I did hear Winky," said Hermione. "I'm surprised she didn't talk to me."

"Winky is not being able to talk after battle, Mistress Hermione," said Slider.

"She wasn't hurt, was she?" asked Harry in alarm. He felt bad that he hadn't noticed her absence since his rescue.

"Winky is not hurt, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Winky is being made to sleep by Slider and Jumper."

Harry was confused. "Just finish the story, Slider," he said. Perhaps it will all be made clear.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "When Winky is finished with wall, Winky is... Winky is doing bad things to giant. Winky is using cooking spells to pull the bones out of giant. Winky is then blasting Death Eaters that is being close to Winky. When Slider and Hogwarts Free Elves is inside house, Winky is being mad. Winky is tearing Death Eaters near Harry Potter into small parts. Winky is talking in Elf-tongue and saying her Master and all he loves are dying. Winky is seeing captured Death Eaters outside and is wanting to be doing bad things to them so Slider and Jumper is putting her to sleep. We is then bringing back Harry Potter, Mistress Hermione and Master Ron to Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey is telling Slider and Jumper to be taking Mistress Hermione and Master Ron to Wizard hospital and we is being doing that. Harry Potter is being cared for by Madam Pomfrey. Living Death Eaters is being taken to ice room with other Death Eaters."

"I wondered about that," said Hermione. "You had told us that only thirty-nine had been captured but there were fifty-six Death Eaters."

"Slider is being asked how many Death Eaters is being captured in ice trap," said Slider.

"So you were," said Harry. "That reminds me of some more good news, Minister. One of the ones that we captured was Peter Pettigrew."

"Peter Pettigrew?" said Kingsley in shock. "That little rat bastard. I'd like to get my hands on him." He was fuming.

"So would he," said Harry, enigmatically. Hermione groaned but the other wizards in the room looked confused.

"So would who?" asked Scrimgeour.

"Pettigrew," said Hermione. At a nod and smile from Harry she explained. "We determined some time ago that the dark marks could be tracked by Voldemort. To prevent him from finding us by our prisoners, we have had to remove our Death Eater's left arms. We store them in case the opportunity arises to put them back."

"A little illegal," said Scrimgeour," but I won't say anything. Is this more of a problem for Pettigrew than the others?"

"His is a special case," said Harry. "When he helped Voldemort resurrect, he had to cut off his own right hand. Voldemort replaced it in much the same way that I, er, Poppy is replacing the limbs of some unfortunate people. I couldn't take the risk of it being traceable to its maker so I removed it, as well."

"I think, for the official report, you could just say you disarmed him," said Shacklebolt, throwing in some auror humor. Hermione groaned, again.

"That might make it a bit harder for him to point the finger at some of his associates," said Scrimgeour, getting into the flow.

"That's it," said Hermione, getting up. "I'm going back to sit with Ron and Honey." She left the three wizards and elf to sort out the rest.

"I think it's getting pretty late, Minister," said Harry. "Maybe we should pick this up later."

"Sounds good to me," said Scrimgeour. It was no fun at all to be hurt and still have to work late into the night. "They say I should get out of here sometime late tomorrow or early Friday. When can you get back to London?"

"We won't have the Death Eaters sorted into 'good' and 'bad' until Sunday but we should have some preliminary information by the weekend. Oops, I forgot. I'm throwing a party on Saturday afternoon."

"A party?" asked Shacklebolt. "I think you might want to reschedule it, all things considered." They had a lot to go over and a party didn't sound all that important.

"Can't," said Harry. "We invited the whole school. It's more of a fair than a party." In a low whisper, he added, "It's really a surprise birthday party for Minerva and a close friend. You've met her, Minister. Luna Lovegood? She and Minerva have the same birthday so I thought we should celebrate."

"After all Minerva's been through, I agree," said Scrimgeour. "That might be a good place to have our conversation. Out in the open but surrounded by noisy crowds. I doubt Voldemort would attack you on your home pitch."

"We could talk there," agreed Harry. "I'd have to take time off, now and again, to give rides, though."

"Rides?" asked the Minister. "What sort of rides are you giving?"

"Dragon rides," said Harry. "I gave them to my wedding guests and to a little girl at school. I have a lot of requests so I thought, why not?"

"Why not, indeed," said Scrimgeour. "It might even do some good. It would lead Voldemort to believe that the attacks on you had no effect. Just don't make too much fuss over Weasley and your wife's injuries and he would be completely unaware that you barely survived." He looked back at the elf in appreciation.

"You're right, Minister," said Harry. "It sort of fits with our normal procedure. We like to keep Voldemort guessing as much as possible." He thought a moment and added, "Please extend my invitation to any of your aurors and their families. This was a bad week for them and a day trip might be refreshing."

"I might just do that, Harry," said Scrimgeour. "My granddaughter just idolizes you and would give her last baby tooth to go for a dragon ride."

"Fine," said Harry. "We'll talk again on Saturday. The fun starts at three o'clock."

After they were alone, Scrimgeour said, "He's starting to show the signs of the stress he's under."

"I agree," said Shacklebolt. "He's tough, though. He can handle it."

"No doubt," agreed Scrimgeour. "I hope he doesn't pull himself too far apart. It's harder to get back together when it's all over."

"It might already be too late," said Kingsley. "The extremes are getting farther apart. He's jumping from facing down Death Eaters and giants to healing a major brain injury for his best friend to cutting off arms, if you can believe it, to worrying about his elf to planning a party. I'm surprised he isn't already insane."

"Weasley didn't die," said Scrimgeour. "If he had, or if his wife had been killed, we'd be picking up Death Eater parts from here to Brighton. I think he'll be okay, as long as he has his lieutenants and is still able to have some fun along the way. Without that release, as you and I both know, you don't have a chance." With a lighter look on his face, he said, "Put up a posting about that party and Harry's invitation. I think our men need a day off." Shacklebold nodded and left the room.

Author's Note: I'd like to welcome my loyal readers from who have found their way here after my story was hidden there. The reason they gave me was they have a zero tolerance policy against student/teacher relationships. I didn't want to remove the Ron/Honey storyline so this will be the only place you will be able to read this story. It is their website and they can make any rules they want. I will miss the better review system but appreciate the fact that let's me post my story here.

Dad


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50 – Coping

October 2nd, 1997

Very early morning

Harry and Slider walked down the hall to Ron's room. They did get their fair share of stares, but nobody said anything to the odd duo. Along the way, Harry had a question.

"Slider?" he asked, "Did any of you happen to pick up the invisibility cloaks?" In all the excitement, he had forgotten about them.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Sleepy is putting all three in Harry Potter and Mistress Hermione's rooms."

"All three?" asked Harry. Then he remembered. "That's right. The assassin had one, too." He smiled and added, "I must send Voldemort a thank you note."

Slider said, "Harry Potter might be wanting to mention the brooms that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sent to the Ice Fortress."

"Brooms?" asked Harry. He thought a moment and said, "I suppose they had to have some way to get to the Ice Fortress. Any Firebolts?"

"Slider did not check, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Slider will do so, if Harry Potter requests."

"It's not important," said Harry. "You said earlier that Winky was sleeping?" They had reached the door to Ron's room but had stopped outside.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Winky is being asleep until Slider is waking Winky."

"I think she could use the rest, Slider," said Harry. "If she thought that we were all dying and had worked herself up as much as you said, it might be a good idea to let her get a good nights sleep."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. He then thought a bit before posing a rare question. "Is Harry Potter being able to be with Winky when Winky is being woke?" he asked.

Harry was surprised at the question but said, "I suppose so, Slider. Why do you want me to be there?"

"Winky is being very upset when Winky is thinking Harry Potter and his family is dying. Winky is being very hard for Slider and Jumper to calm down and put to sleep. Slider is thinking that if Winky is seeing Harry Potter when she is waking, Winky might be being okay."

"Of course I'll be there," said Harry. "When should she be waking up?"

"Winky is being sleeping for six hours, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Winky is being able to wake at any time Harry Potter chooses."

Harry thought about this. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning. He and Hermione had committed to helping Ron and Honey get Ron back to Hogwarts and settled in first thing in the morning. Perhaps helping them would show her that everything would be okay. "Why don't you plan on waking her around six?" asked Harry. "Then she can help out with moving Ron. She might like that."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Slider will be coming to Harry Potter's room at six o'clock." With that, he popped off, presumably to try to get four hours of sleep for himself.

Harry walked into Ron's room and was not surprised to find that everyone was asleep. It had, after all, been a long day for them all. Molly and Arthur were leaning against each other in a pair of chairs that had been transfigured into a love seat. Hermione was reclining in an arm chair with an open book on her lap. She had been trying to read with her one good eye but had found that the extra effort required more energy than she retained. Honey was unabashedly snoozing away, leaning forward in her chair while resting her arms and head on Ron's chest. Ron was sleeping soundly, his left hand still lost in the golden curls of his lover.

Harry walked over and gently tapped Hermione on the shoulder. She woke with a start but soon regained her bearings. She was about to speak but he put his finger to his lips and motioned to the door. Hermione nodded and followed into the hallway. She gave him a hug and he apparated them back to their bedroom. He chose the one in Grimmauld Place since it was closer and they would be returning to the hospital in just a few hours. Undressing quickly, they got into bed.

"Harry Potter," said Slider, a second later.

Harry opened a blood-shot eye and saw the elf waiting patiently for his reply. He seemed to be chipper and refreshed. "What is it?" asked Harry, wondering why the room was so light when no candles were lit.

"Harry Potter is asking Slider to be waking Harry Potter at six o'clock," replied Slider.

"That's right, Slider," agreed Harry. "Why don't you come back then?" He started to fall back asleep.

"It is being six o'clock, Harry Potter," said Slider.

Harry had never heard of an insane elf before this. Well, there was Dobby. Kreature wasn't exactly all their, either. Perhaps they were all crazy and no one noticed because they blended in. Harry checked his watch and, sure enough, it was broken. It read six o'clock in a fairly taunting manner so he went to his last unimpeachable authority and asked her.

"Hermione," he said, tapping her shoulder.

"Hmmpf," she answered. She then immediately fell back asleep.

"Hermione?" asked Harry. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Huh? Oh, I can't tell; it's too dark out," replied the half-asleep witch.

This confused Harry a bit since there was plenty of light to see the clock on her nightstand. It also read six o'clock.

"I think it's time to get up, Hermione," said Harry, trying to gather the strength to do just that.

"You're dreaming," said Hermione. "It's pitch black out."

"It's six o'clock and the sun is up, more or less," countered Harry as he rolled out of bed.

"Get back here," said Hermione, turning over to grab him. She then said, "Oh," and after a moment, also started to get up. Seeing that both of them were now getting up, Slider popped away for a few minutes to give them some privacy.

Even in the dawn's early light, Harry could tell Hermione was blushing. Since they had been married for some time, he assumed it wasn't due to her attire, which he appreciated very much, by the way. "Hermione?" he asked.

"Yes," came the response as she started to gather her underwear from her dresser.

"Why are you blushing?" It was a simple question that he knew usually had about a fifty percent chance of being answered honestly.

"Like I'd tell you," she said, shortly. "You'd just run and tell Ron and..." She stopped and fought back a sudden urge to weep. After a few moments to compose herself, she said, "I don't know if I'm going to get used to the way things are now. I expect that I'll miss the squabbles. It won't be the same if he has to take the time to write out 'mental' when we talk."

Harry walked over and embraced his wife. Holding her, he said, "We'll adjust. Ron'll adapt. I'm sure that Honey will find some way to make things work out. It'll just take awhile." He kissed her and they broke apart. They continued to get dressed.

"It was my patch," said Hermione, after about a minute had passed. She was pulling up her jeans and decided to answer Harry's question.

"What about your patch?" asked Harry, concerned. "It's not giving you trouble, is it?" He walked over and looked at her closely.

"It's fine," said Hermione. "I was sleeping on my side and when you said it was morning, I opened just the one eye, the one not covered by a pillow. It looked dark to me and...now this is why I didn't want to tell you."

Harry was laughing uproariously. Hermione had joined him by this time, maybe without the same amount of exuberance but still chuckling a bit. "You're right," said Harry after a bit. "Ron and I will be reminding you of this incident well into your twenties." He pulled over a red jumper and sat down to put on his trainers.

"I certainly hope so," thought Hermione, praying that they had survived the worst attack they would face. She couldn't convince herself that it was a reasonable assumption.

Slider had returned after they had dressed and had taken them to the kitchens of Hogwarts. He and Jumper had placed Winky in front of one of the fireplaces and covered her with a small blanket. It reminded Hermione of a similar situation from a few years back when Winky had been drunk on butterbeer and the Hogwarts elves had covered her in shame. This time, she was sleeping off a different type of excess; her fury at the apparent harming of her master and his 'family', as Slider had put it. It was at the request of Slider that they were here and he now stood before them, next to Winky.

"Is Harry Potter and Mistress Hermione wanting Slider to be waking Winky?" he asked. Anticipating their response, he stood over the snoozing elf with his hand outstretched.

"Yes, Slider," said Harry, taking Hermione's hand. He didn't fully understand what Winky could have done to cause Slider and Jumper to take the unprecedented step of rendering her unconscious but he wanted to be ready to comfort Hermione, if necessary.

Slider snapped his fingers. Winky immediately opened her eyes and looked around, confused. When she saw Harry and Hermione, she jumped up and ran to them, throwing her arms around the legs of Harry and crying, uncontrollably.

"Master, Master," she cried, "Winky is being very happy that Master is safe." She sobbed a bit more before realizing that she was being rude. Controlling herself, she stepped back and said, "Winky is also glad that Mistress is.." She had noticed the patch on Hermione's eye and started to cry, again. "Mistress is hurt!" she exclaimed. She was very agitated again and Slider stood by, ready to return Winky to Slumberland if necessary. Winky, however, just waved her hand in the direction of Hermione's head and, after a bit, sighed in relief. "Mistress is being fine, soon," she said. Winky had two seconds of calm before she remembered that there were three of them in Umbridge's sitting room.

"Where is Master Ron?" she demanded. Panic was again evident in her voice.

"He's in St. Mungo's, Winky," said Hermione, trying to prevent another outburst from the elf. "He's coming home, today. We just wanted to wake you so you could come and help us move him." Hermione, like Harry, felt that helping out might do Winky some good.

"Yes," said Winky, again relieved. "Winky is being helping Master and Mistress to bring Master Ron back to Hogwarts. Is Master Ron's hurts being fixed?"

"Ron was hurt very bad, Winky," said Hermione, "but he'll be getting better. He'll be staying with Honey for awhile. She'll take good care of him."

"Winky is sorry that Winky is not being able to be helping Master's friend to not being hurt," said Winky, threatening to break down again. "Winky is hearing Master calling for help and Winky is not coming right away. Winky is being sorry. Winky is coming to help Master too late and is only able to make bad wizards pay for hurting Master and Mistress. Winky is a bad house-elf." Once again, Winky collapsed into abject grief.

"Winky," said Harry. "Ron was hurt about one second into the fight. I was standing right there and I couldn't prevent it. From what I've heard, you saved all of us from a giant. I'm proud of you, Winky." Harry reached out to give her a hug. At first, Winky hesitated, being in the presence of the Hogwarts Head Elf, and all. Finally, though, she fell into Harry's embrace and cried and cried.

"Winky is being... being...," she sobbed, "so worried that Master and... and Mistress is being hurt or killed. Winky is wanting to keep her Master safe and he is being hurt and Mistress is being hurt and Master Ron is... is.. being hurt bad and Winky is... Winky is not helping."

"It wasn't your fault, Winky," said Hermione. "We think Voldemort did something that made it impossible for you to come right away. None of the elves could come right to us. Harry couldn't get us out of there. It wasn't your fault." She joined in and hugged her along with Harry.

Winky calmed a bit but seemed to be still on the edge. Harry decided that seeing Ron as he was now would push her over the cliff. Thanking his lucky stars that he had a plausible excuse at hand, he said, "Winky, I have a very important job for you."

"What can Winky be doing for Master?" asked Winky, sniffing back a tear and being glad to be getting back into house-elf mode.

"We had some great news last night, Winky," said Harry. "Honey has agreed to marry Ron."

"That is being good news, Master," agreed Winky. She seemed to lighten up a bit at the implication that Ron was well enough to get married.

"Yes, it is," said Harry. "Therefore, when you run those errands for me today, please make whatever further arrangements you would like to turn the party on Saturday into a combination Luna Birthday, Minerva Birthday, Harry and Hermione Wedding Reception and Ron and Honey Engagement Party."

Winky beamed at Harry. "Winky is not failing Master, again," she said. "Winky is making this a great party for Master's friends." She immediately started thinking.

Harry guessed that she was pulling everything she had ever heard about parties and what would make them fun out of her head. Needing to get to St. Mungo's, he suggested, "Perhaps you should head over to Hogsmeade and start when the shops open."

"Yes, Master," said Winky. She then paused and asked, "Is it being okay if Winky is taking Master's aunt to her greenhouse, Master? She is calling Winky and Winky is having time if Master says it is being okay."

"Of course," said Harry. "You can even work with her if you think you have the time. I'll leave it to your judgement." Harry didn't want her to question herself on everything now that she 'failed' to save them from, well, let's see, at least thirty Death Eaters and two giants.

"Thank you, Master," said Winky, beaming at him. She then popped away.

"Why do I see shades of Dobby cleaning out our vault?" asked Hermione. She remembered that it was a freely spending elf that had made her book case so very special and so very expensive.

"I think she'll have to stop at thirty thousand galleons or so," said Harry. "It might be worth it if it goads Voldemort into acting too quickly with his recently released Death Eaters." With a puzzled look from Hermione, he continued. "They are evil and experienced," he began, "but they have been locked up for sixteen years, in some cases. They can't just pop right out and start up again without a little recuperation and re-education on current events. He should give them at least a month, in my estimation. If we can make him think that we weren't even effected by throwing this party, he might send those poor bastards out before they've had a decent meal."

After making themselves some bacon sandwiches, (they were, after all, in the Hogwarts kitchens), and assuring Slider that he could stay to assist in the preparations for the schools breakfast, Harry apparated Hermione and himself to Ron's room in St. Mungo's. It was as if they had only just left, with one notable difference. Arthur and Molly were still in their love seat; Ron was still in his bed with his arm around his girl. It was Honey who had moved, however slightly. She was now cuddled up against Ron, still using his chest as her pillow but also using his bed as a bed. It occurred to Harry that the change from the chair to the bed was so very slight and so very major at the same time.

With a look at each other, Harry and Hermione mutely agreed to start the ball rolling by waking Honey. Harry then decided not to waste the opportunity and motioned for Hermione to wait by the foot of the bed. He set two chairs next to Honey and transfigured the legs to raise them to the height of the bed. Grabbing an extra blanket from the dresser, he sat in one chair with his feet on the other, covering them both with the blanket. With Hermione standing with a scowl on her face and her hands on her hips, he reached over and tapped Honey on her shoulder. She half woke and turned to look at him with sleep-filled eyes. As soon as she did so, Harry looked at Hermione with wide-eyed terror and said, "Honey! It's the wife!"

Honey woke with a start. She instinctively tried to pull the blanket over her. She then tried to get out of the bed but Ron was on one side and Harry on the other. The scowl on Hermione's face deepened, not because of her, of course, but because of Harry. Unfortunately, Honey didn't know that. Hermione was one witch she didn't want to get on the wrong side of. Her panic only increased as the commotion woke Arthur and Molly. What would they think, finding her in bed with their son. Wait a moment. With the blanket pulled up to her chin and everyone, except Ron, who was notoriously hard to awaken, looking at her in either confusion, exasperation or amusement, she finally realized that she had been had, big time. With a blush that threatened to set her hair on fire, she pulled the blanket completely over her head and groaned.

"Will I have to be putting up with this for the rest of my life?" she asked the room in general, muffled a bit by the covering.

Molly walked over to stand next to Hermione and wiggled Honey's toes. Honey peeked over the top of the blanket. "Just remember how much you love Ron," suggested Molly, "but that he comes with a lot of brothers, including this one." She pointed at Harry. "That's why Fred and George are still alive. They make these two look like duffers but whenever my wand turns into a chicken or the stove explodes, I just remember that I love them very much and it makes it almost bearable."

"I'm afraid I probably fall into the same category," said Arthur. "By all rights, Molly should have obliterated me years ago." He smiled at Honey and added, "I do have one question. How did Harry manage to levitate you onto Ron's bed without waking you?" Honey went back under.

About twenty minutes later, Ron had been roused, with everyone's help, and dressed, with just Harry and Honey's help. It was then just a matter of getting the final instructions from the healer on duty and being released. When the healer arrived, she seemed to be very rushed and got straight to the point.

"Good morning," she said. Walking over to Ron but addressing them all, she continued, "I'm healer Kurian. There seems to be some sort of a mistake on these charts. It seems Mr. Weasley was brought in with major trauma to the head, including extensive brain damage. For some reason, he is scheduled to be released this morning."

She examined Ron's head, noticing the injured region with the normal shaved area and the brand new section which hadn't grown any hair, yet. Waving her wand over first his head and then his entire body, she stated, "You seem to be completely whole. Are you experiencing any pain or unusual feelings, Mr. Weasley?" Ron shook his head. "No dizziness or nausea?" Again, Ron silently replied in the negative. "Open your mouth and say 'Ah'," commanded the healer.

"It's your lucky day, Ron," said Harry. No one but Ron got the joke but he was able to suppress a laugh as he made the one sound he was capable of.

"That's good," said Healer Kurian. She seemed surprised. "I guess you are free to go. I must say that your recovery is astounding. I don't have any specific instructions for you but to exercise patience. Your speech and ability to walk may return or they may not. The damage is apparently undone but your brain will have to relearn how to move the appropriate muscles for both actions. Any ability or improvement on either front should be pursued. I can't give you a time line for recovery since your case is unique. I can only wish you the best of luck." She signaled to an assistant waiting in the hall. She rolled in a wheelchair.

Instantly, the mood in the room plummeted. Ron stared at the chair as if looking at a corpse. Once he moved into it, this would all become real. His life was changed, if not forever, at least for now. Honey knelt down by him and said, "We'll get through this, Ron. No matter what it takes, we'll get out of that chair, someday." She rose and kissed him, not caring who was watching.

Molly was crying, of course. Not because of her son's injuries but because of his choice in a wife. Molly was a little leery of Honey, her being older and a professor and all. She was also just a notch or so down from Fleur in looks. Would she stick with Ron if someone better came along? Those fears were swept away after the healers had made their pronouncement of hopelessness about Ron. They had all wept for a bit after that but it wasn't until Molly had said that Ron would have been so happy with Honey that the petite witch had shown her fury and declared that Ron WILL be happy with her. She then summoned a Hogwarts elf to take her to Harry. Poppy, who had come to St. Mungo's to see about the other two students after treating Harry for his concussion, rushed to do the same. Molly and Arthur had then gone to a nearby room to gather themselves. She didn't want the last thing her son heard to be his mother crying. The rest of the story, as they say, is history.

Now, Honey was encouraging Ron. She was also leaving no doubt about her commitment. THEY would recover and THEY would walk and talk again. Yes, Molly was pleased with her new daughter.

Ron was still apprehensive but allowed Harry, Honey and the assistant to maneuver him into the wheelchair. It didn't fit at all but a few quick adjustments by Healer Kurian and the seat and foot rests were positioned to hold Ron comfortably. Any further modifications could, of course, be made by the transfiguration professor.

Now it only became a matter of getting to Hogwarts. Harry, and probably everyone else, had assumed that Harry would apparate Ron. The wheelchair made things a bit more dicey.

"Excuse me," he said to the Healer and her assistant, "Are there any precautions or anything I should know about before apparating someone in a wheelchair?" Although Harry assumed that he would be able to do it, he didn't want Ron to be thrown from the chair upon their arrival.

It was the assistant who had the most experience. "It is perfectly safe," she began, "but the technique takes a bit to get used to." She demonstrated. "Just reach over the back and grab the arms of the chair. The passenger should then hold onto your arms. Then you just apparate normally." She stood back up and Harry got into position.

"Like this?" he asked, emulating her previous actions.

"Perfect," she replied. "Now, if you'll let me wheel him to the apparition area, you can be on your way."

Harry didn't, of course, need Ron to be wheeled anywhere but they needed some time to work out the means by which everyone else would follow. As they walked down the hallway, they decided that Harry would go first, with Ron. After a minute to allow for any unforeseen circumstances, Molly would portkey to Ron with Arthur, Hermione and Honey in tow.

They were walking by the Minister's room when Harry was distracted by the sound of someone crying. It wasn't the Minister, of course, but a little girl. There was a commotion in the room around Scrimgeour's bed. He was obviously in pain as they changed his bandages but just as obviously trying to hide it; presumably from the girl. Harry could sense the sorrow in her crying but also an underlying terror. He felt compelled to try to help her, for some reason.

"Just a moment, please," he said to his group. "I need to stop in here for a bit." He jerked his head towards the young girl, alone in the corner and walked in with Hermione close behind. Honey and the elder Weasleys moved a short distance to where they could wait on some benches in the hallway, assuring the assistant healer that they could find the apparition area on their own. Harry and Hermione took a seat on either side of the child and Harry immediately started a conversation with her.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Harry. I wanted to stop by to see Rufus before I took my friend home." He watched the activity around the bed for a moment before saying, "It can be a little scary while they're working on him but he's sure to be better soon." Harry projected that certainty in his voice so that the girl would believe him.

"I hope so," said the girl. "I don't really like having to stay at the neighbor's house." She looked up at Harry and asked, "Are you friends with Grampa?"

Harry realized that this was the granddaughter that Scrimgeour had mentioned the night before. He was surprised at her comment, though. "Yes," he said, wondering if it was true. "I stop by to see him at work, once in a while." Harry laughed a bit at his backhanded reference to his unwanted apparitions to the Minister's private office. This seemed to have the effect of cheering the girl up a little.

"That's nice," said the child. "Most of Grampa's friends are very old; older than you, in fact." Harry suddenly felt 'very old'.

Hermione asked, "What's your name?"

"I'm Greta," said Greta, perking up. "Greta Grundle. Grampa is the Min'ster of Magic. We live in a big house with a red roof."

Harry guessed why. The terror she had felt was that of someone afraid of losing her whole world. She lived with Grampa in a big house with a red roof because she couldn't live with her parents. He thought of how to broach the subject and said, "I used to live with relatives, too. My parents died when I was young and I lived with my aunt and uncle."

Greta lit up. She had someone at hand that understood. "Mine, too. I was really little so I don't remember much but I think I dream about my Mum and Dad sometimes. Grampa loves me, though. We play games together at night and he reads me stories or sometimes I read them to him, now that I'm learning to read. He had me stay with Mrs. Norris last night, since he was busy."

Harry and Hermione both laughed out loud. This had the effect of causing all discussion around the Minister to come to an abrupt halt and everyone, including Scrimgeour, turned to look at them.

"Sorry," said Hermione, blushing a bit. The healers went back to work but Rufus smiled through the pain before laying back onto his bed.

"Why did you laugh when I told you about staying at Mrs. Norris' house?' asked Greta.

"We know someone who's cat is named Mrs. Norris," explained Hermione. "It's not an uncommon name so I guess we should have expected to run across a human one, sooner or later." She still smiled a bit but held back the laughter.

"I'd love to meet a cat named Mrs. Norris," said Greta, ignorantly. "Is she old and gentle?"

Hermione said, "Well, she's getting old, I guess. I don't think you could say she was anything other than mean. I have a cat, though. Crookshanks. He's nice enough. He is getting to be a bit on the fat side, though."

Greta laughed again. "I'd love a fat cat. They'd be easier to catch than skinny ones." Hermione laughed and Harry got up. She moved to follow but Harry said, "I'll be right back. I think we can spare a bit of time to visit with Greta." Hermione looked out the door but nodded her head in agreement. Ron had his whole family to watch after him but Greta just had them. She wondered where Greta normally spent her days. Surely, she didn't have a playroom near the Minister's office.

Harry walked over to Scrimgeour. The healers had left; apparently to work on some of the details for adjusting the potion to improve the results. "It seems that you aren't cooperating, Minister," said Harry. "You're supposed to be getting better."

"It's their potion that isn't working," replied Scrimgeour. "It isn't making a dent on these curses." He indicated the network of moderately deep fissures in his skin, new ones spreading slowly across his chest. "It isn't life threatening, though." He looked over at Greta and Hermione, chatting away. "Thanks, by the way. She usually spends the day with Mrs. Moloney but her son was injured last night, along with a lot of his fellow aurors. She'll be okay here with me. Once they sort me out, I'll head home."

"To the big house with the red roof," said Harry. "I think she'll be doing the reading for a while."

Scrimgeour looked up at Harry and smiled. "That is until your party on Saturday. I haven't told her, yet. Does she know who you are?"

"Not until Saturday," said Harry. He looked back at Greta. The transformation from a terrified child to a comforted little girl was complete. Harry didn't have to imagine very hard to visualize her devastation if her grampa died. He waited a moment for the expected result. Putting his finger to his cheek, he let the tear hit. Putting his finger into the potion setting on the nightstand and swirling it around, he said, "I think you should try this again, Minister. It might work, this time." He handed the bowl to Scrimgeour and, with a wave to Hermione, walked out to rejoin the Weasleys.

POP! Harry and Ron apparated into Honey's sitting room with less than their usual adroitness.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Harry. "It felt like my arms were getting ripped off." He flopped down on Honey's sofa, leaving enough room for the other expected travelers.

Ron was pulling himself back upright in his chair. He nodded his head in agreement and began to look around the room. Harry hadn't noticed Honey's choice of decor during his last visit. It was, not surprisingly, similar to her parent's house. There were plenty of plants, of course. She seemed to prefer hanging vines and larger, bushy varieties to the more traditional blooming flowers. The furniture was of a sturdy, but not unattractive style which was perhaps best described as homey. There was no kitchen, per se, but she had a small butcher block table next to a free-standing pantry. The pantry contained an assortment of breads, cookies, cakes and pies that didn't seem to be of the elf variety. From the crumbs, Harry deduced that the table was used for partaking of the bounty of the pantry.

By now, Molly arrived, bringing with her Honey and Arthur. Molly immediately checked on Ron. "Did you have any trouble with the apparating, dear?" she asked, a worried look on her face.

Ron shook his head and smiled as Honey came up behind Molly and planted a huge kiss on his lips. "Welcome home, Ron," she said, backing up a step and swirling around. "Do you like it? I can adjust anything we need to accommodate you."

Ron smiled and nodded his head. He then made the now recognizable request for a pen and paper. Unfortunately, Hermione had all of those supplies and was back at St. Mungo's. Honey retrieved a quill with ink and parchment from her desk. She then seemed to be looking around for something.

"What are you looking for, Honey?" asked Harry.

"I'm looking for something to set this all on so Ron can write," answered Honey, still searching.

Molly and Arthur instinctively glanced around as well but Harry just stared at Honey for a moment in disbelief. He then looked through her magazines before holding up one of the older editions. "May I use this, Honey?" he asked.

Honey looked at the magazine and said, "Sure, but it doesn't look like it will be firm enough."

Harry pulled out his wand and transfigured the structure of the magazine into a thin board. He then adjusted the width and height before placing it on the arms of the wheelchair.

Honey set the writing supplies on the board and turned to Harry to say, "It's early, okay? And I'm distraught." She sulked a bit and plopped down in a chair next to Ron.

Harry and Ron both laughed at this. Again, it took just a second for everyone to realize that Ron was laughing instead of having some sort of an attack but they were prepared this time and just joined in. Ron wrote a quick note on a scrap of the parchment and handed it to Honey. Instinctively, everyone else went to read the note but Ron waved his arms to get their attention and then indicated that the note was for Honey, not everyone.

Honey read the note and went to give Ron another kiss. When she did this, she held the note so that all of them were able to read it. It read "I love you". After she backed away, Ron wrote another note. He handed this one to Honey and she laughed. "It says 'When's breakfast?'. He's back to normal, all right." Facing Ron, she said, "It isn't quite eight, yet. We'll head to the Great Hall in a bit."

Molly had been looking around the suite and had a few ideas. "I've been thinking about what you said about Ron's 'personal care' as you put it and think that there are probably a few things he would like to do on his own. Using the WC, for example." Ron and Honey both blushed at this but Molly pressed on. "Now I think that since Ron's arms still work, a bar hung from the ceiling would do the trick. There might be a moment or two when some assistance might be nice but that will be up to you two to deal with. The same with the bath. I think that towels would be okay for the most part but you can't dry off in the tub and you wouldn't want to get the chair wet so maybe a drying charm between the two."

Ron scribbled furiously but Molly was on a roll. Speaking to an increasingly embarrassed Honey, she said, "Your bed will have to be replaced, of course, or at the least, enlarged. Otherwise you'd be sleeping on top of each other."

Honey tried to give Ron and herself at least a chance of maintaining the illusion that Ron's parents weren't fully aware of the level of their relationship. "Molly," she started, "I assure you that Ron and I have no intentions of taking advantage of the situation. He's staying here solely so that I can properly look after him."

Every male in the room held his breath. Would Molly accept such an unlikely explanation? "I'm sure you're just good friends, dear," said Molly, consolingly. "That's why you blasted Harry out of his hospital bed and dragged him to St. Mungo's to save Ron. And the way you kept him warm with your body heat last night was due to the cold, of course. He's very lucky to have a 'good friend' like you."

Ron crumpled up the note he had been working on and wrote just one word. He held it up to Harry. It read "Help!"

Harry said, "I should probably go pick up Hermione. Could I give the two of you a lift?" He hoped Arthur would get the hint. He did.

"I think that would be an excellent idea," said Arthur. "Molly, shall we let Ron and Honey sort everything out?"

"Oh, I can't just desert them like this," she said. "You go along, dear. You probably have to get to work. I can portkey home in a few hours."

Harry's mind raced. He didn't want to let his best mate down. He was suddenly relieved when a realistic, and probably true situation came to mind. "Mrs. Weasley," he said, "perhaps you should break the news to Ginny. It would be a shock for her to just walk into breakfast and find that Ron is..." He broke off, not sure of what to say.

Molly didn't have a counterargument for this suggestion. "I think you might be right, Harry. In fact, I will probably be seeing all of my children in the next day or so to explain...everything." She looked down at her hands, the worry in her face returning full force now that she had slowed down.

Honey had an insight into her future mother-in-law that eluded the men. "I think Ginny will take the news fairly hard but she will be okay. Ron and I will come down for breakfast around eight-thirty. That should give you enough time to talk to Ginny. After breakfast, we can come back and sort everything out."

Molly was happy that Honey understood. She was Ron's mother and he was hurt. She couldn't just turn it off because he was 'of age'. Walking over to Honey, she gave the pretty young witch something that Fleur had first received in similar circumstances; a Molly hug of genuine affection. With the symbolic acceptance came the tears of her pain. Molly had done her best to see the forest for the trees. Ron was alive, safe, mentally competent and had a reasonable chance for recovery. Considering what they had been facing, things had turned out better than they could have hoped. Now, though, she began to see the future and it wasn't the one she had envisioned for her son.

After a minute of totally abandoning herself to misery, she stood up and, taking a step back, forced a smile onto her face. "I suppose that I had better go find Ginny. I'd expect she's in the Great Hall for breakfast."

"Shall I go with you, Molly?" asked Arthur, deciding that work wasn't all that important, today.

"No, Arthur," replied his wife. "It might do me some good to go see the rest of my children. It will do Ron and Honey even more good since it will keep me from driving them both nutters." Again Ron laughed and Molly joined in at once. She was glad that Ron could still feel good enough to laugh.

With a quick farewell, Molly went off to the Great Hall while Harry apparated Arthur and himself to Arthur's office. Harry then went to see if Greta had Hermione pulling her hair out by the roots, yet.

Ginny and Neville were walking down the second floor corridor on their way to breakfast. For once, it was Neville who had the latest gossip.

"You mean he didn't come back at all?" asked Ginny, shocked.

"I never saw him if he did," said Neville. "He might have just stayed in the Head's Suite with Harry and Hermione. I think they were all going somewhere last night and they might have got back late."

"That might be his cover story," said Ginny, slyly. "I know where they were going, though, and it wouldn't have taken all night. Unfortunately, my dear brother and his girl are both way too transparent to get away with anything. We'll know the truth before the second word passes his lips."

They had arrived at the Great Hall and proceeded down to their regular seats. None of the subjects of their conversation were present. This was unusual but not unknown so Ginny and Neville started in on breakfast. After about thirty seconds into the bacon, Ginny noticed that few of the students around them were actually eating. The Daily Prophet had arrived with the story of two major attacks. Most of the students were reading about the attack on Azkaban. Even to the younger students, the escape of almost one hundred Death Eaters was a noteworthy story. A few cheers rang out as some of the faster readers got to the page two account of the attack on Dolores Umbridge. Dougal and Luna, who were sharing a paper, knew better. As Luna finished that account, she noticed that Ginny was sitting opposite her. With the slightest hesitation and seemingly not knowing what to say, she handed the open newspaper over to the youngest Weasley.

Ginny had just finished scanning the article when Neville, who had a sixth sense about approaching professors, noticed McGonagall walking their way and discretely mentioned it to Ginny.

"I wonder what she...," began Ginny, then turned around as McGonagall suddenly stopped and looked past them, down the aisle. Molly was coming towards them, her face adrift in a sea of worries. Ginny was, unknowingly, jumping to a very possible, very logical and completely, or at least mostly, wrong conclusion. She spun around and looked at the empty benches. Not all of them! She could actually feel the blood leave her face as both McGonagall and her mother picked up the pace to get to her.

"No! No! No!" she screamed, trying to block out what she was expecting. She wrapped her arms tightly around Neville's and pulled back from the elder witches. The Great Hall went virtually silent except for her sobs.

"Ginny," said Molly, fortunately catching a glimmer of what her daughter was probably thinking, "they're all alive." Such a statement, made after having Ginny attract their attention with her cries, focused the students within earshot as they had never been in class. "They'll all be fine, in time." Molly hugged her daughter close while McGonagall sat down nearby in case assistance was required.

Ginny tried, at first unsuccessfully, to gain control of herself. After about a full minute of Molly saying, "They're fine", she managed to calm down enough to take a sip of pumpkin juice. She then asked, "So where are they, if they're 'fine'?"

"Harry left to take Dad back to work and pick up Hermione at St. Mungo's," said Molly. "Ron is in Honey's flat waiting until I can..." She paused a moment, and then another before saying, "I have some bad news, dear."

Ginny, not recovered from her earlier terror, went back into a panic. Molly and Minerva both struggled to comfort her, being unavoidably hindered by her refusal to allow the free flow of blood in Neville's arm. "Ron's fine!" she shouted. "You just said so!" She had always teased Ron unmercifully but she was closer to him than any of her other brothers in more than age. The carnage described by the Prophet coupled with her mother's presence forced her to realize that Ron must have been seriously hurt.

Both Minerva and Molly looked around uncomfortably. Molly had not taken into account the likelihood of an article in the Daily Prophet. She had just hoped to have a quick, discreet word with her daughter and warn her that Ron was currently in a wheelchair but that he would recover. Minerva had been sitting in her chair, reading the Daily Prophet, wondering what, if anything, to tell the students in general. Regarding Ginny, Minerva had similar plans to Molly; a quick word of warning and assurances that everything would be alright. Ginny had not cooperated, and at this point, all chance of secrecy was long past.

"Ron was hurt," began Molly, hoping that Ginny could still even hear her, "but he'll need to spend some time recovering. He'll be okay, again; someday."

"What happened to him?" demanded Ginny and Luna with one voice. The simultaneous vocalization was odd enough to help snap Ginny out of her fright for a moment.

"I'll let him tell..." she stopped and fought back her own grief. "I'll let Harry and Hermione explain the details. Ron's had a serious injury to his head and... and..." This wasn't getting any easier. Molly paused to pour herself a glass of juice.

Ginny looked over to McGonagall. The Headmistress could see the effort Ginny was making to keep from screaming again and didn't know how much longer she could keep control of herself. "He's currently having a bit of trouble with his legs," said the uncharacteristically soft-spoken witch. "He will need to get around in a wheelchair until that is sorted out."

"His head and legs were injured?" asked Ginny, trying to clarify the extent of the damage.

"No," said Molly. "He can't use his legs because of the brain damage."

"Brain damage?" asked Ginny in a very soft voice. "He can't walk?"

"Not yet," said Molly, trying to be optimistic. "The damage was fixed by Harry but Ron will have to learn how to walk and talk, again."

"He can't talk?" asked Ginny, her voice barely a whisper as tears filled her eyes.

"He can write to us," said Molly. "We hope that he will be okay, in time."

Ginny sat quietly. Luna had worked her way around to stand behind her and McGonagall had placed a hand consolingly on her shoulder. Neville was stroking her hand gently; a gesture he had learned to do to comfort her from less pressing worries. Finally, Ginny asked, "When can I see him?"

Molly brightened a bit now that Ginny had begun to come to terms with the changes to her brother. "He'll be down in a few minutes," said Molly, "so we'd better eat a bit while there's still time."

Harry walked into the Minister's room and thought for a moment that he had the wrong dimension. The people were the same; Hermione, Greta and Scrimgeour. The activity, however, was completely incomprehensible. The Minister of Magic was sitting on the side of his bed with his shirt off. Greta was staring intently at him and would occasionally squeal with delight and point at his chest which would be followed by Hermione rubbing the indicated area with her fingertip. He watched the fun for a few full cycles before saying, "Okay, I give up. What in the world are you doing?"

"We're curing Grampa," sang Greta, jumping up and down for joy. "He'll be all better, now. Owenmywe and I are making the bad cuts go away." Hermione winced at the most brutal mangling of her name in memory.

"I see," said Harry. "How are you doing it, Healer Greta?"

Greta beamed at him. "I'm pointing out the cuts and my assissen puts on the potion. We made them all go away."

"That's right," said Rufus. "Greta made all the difference. Those other healers didn't have the right ingredients in the potion but Greta knew what was missing. She fixed me up in no time at all." After having gone a full two minutes now with no further attacks, he declared himself cured and started to put on his shirt.

"I didn't add anything, Grampa," said Greta, in all seriousness.

"Yes, you did," corrected Harry. "It was love. Your love for Grampa made the potion work."

Greta ran over and gave Scrimgeour a big hug and said, "Then he'll never be sick again."

A few minutes later, and with much less of a pop or complaining from the apparator than before, Harry and Hermione appeared in Honey's sitting room. Ron and Honey were both coming out of the bathroom, apparently engaged in a blushing contest. Ron was winning but Honey should at least get an Honorable Mention. Seeing the Potters appear at such an unfortunate moment, they looked at each other as if to decide whether or not to explain anything. With a shrug from Ron, Honey said cryptically, "Molly might be right about a bar."

"For some of the equipment in that room," said Harry, "I'd have to agree. However, when I was in a similar situation, I found that the highlight of my day was bath time."

"Oh, yes!" said Hermione, perhaps a bit more emphatically than she had planned. Blushing, she said, "I mean if your tub is big enough, it works quite well with two." She decided to let it drop.

Ron, however, didn't. Rolling over to the table, which worked much better for writing with a quill, ink and parchment than a board on a wheelchair, he quickly wrote down a short message. He then held it up for them all to read; 'We'll let you know, tomorrow.' He smiled at Honey who looked nervously at the ceiling but finally returned a tiny smile.

Hermione came forward and set the muggle notepad and two pens on the arm of Ron's chair. "I put a very minor sticking charm on the back of the notepad and on the pens," she explained. "They might feel a little strange but they won't fall off your chair."

Ron nodded and wrote 'Thanks, Hermione' at the top of the first page.

"You're welcome, Ron," said Hermione. She looked at her watch. "We still have time. Who's up for breakfast?"

The four of them walked or rolled down the corridor towards the Great Hall. Ron was pushing himself, declaring in writing, of course, that he was still somewhat capable of seeing after himself. Honey was walking beside him, listening as Hermione described her conversation with Greta after Harry had left. It seemed that Greta was attending a muggle kindergarten near her home and was having some of the same sort of problems that all magical children faced while they were learning to control their magic. Apparently, she tended to get overly engrossed while making sand castles and the totally impossible structures she manufactured bewildered, and in some cases, freaked out the other children who had no chance of making sand stack as well as she did. It didn't help that when her attention turned to other pursuits, the castles in question instantly collapsed under their own weight. Harry quipped that if she liked improbable structures, they should invite her out to the Burrow. They were all laughing at this thought as they walked into the Great Hall.

It took about four steps, or in Ron's case, two pushes, for them to realize that the mood in the room had taken on the characteristics of the average funeral. Having been with each other during the night and most of the morning, the foursome were initially unaware as to what could have happened. Harry looked at his wife and best friend to see if they had any theories when it hit him; Hermione had a black patch over her eye and Ron had obviously had some damage to his head and was currently in a wheelchair. Harry and Honey were the only visibly unscathed members of the group.

Before he, or any of the rest of them could think to say anything, Ginny jumped up and ran to her brother, Molly close behind. Upon arriving, however, she didn't seem to know what to do. Her voice drowned by her tears, she obviously wanted to give him a hug, articulated by her outstretched arms, but she didn't know how to go about giving him one. She danced all around Ron's chair like a puppy for a moment before Ron, figuring out the problem, stretched out his arms to his sister and indicated that she could jump up on his lap. She did this and clung to Ron as if never wishing to let go.

Harry took the opportunity to ask McGonagall, who had followed at a slower pace, "Exactly how much did the two of you say to everyone?" He was trying to be optimistic but it seemed unlikely that the conversation with Ginny went smoothly and the general mood of the room indicated it wasn't very private, either.

McGonagall led them all to an unpopulated corner of the hall behind the teacher's table before answering. "Between the Daily Prophet, Molly and myself, I would have to say that the general circumstances have been guessed but the specific details could still be considered a secret," summarized McGonagall.

"I see," said Harry. He thought a moment and said, "I suppose a brief explanation might be better than allowing the rumor mill to take over."

"Before we say anything, Headmistress," said Hermione, "do you think I might borrow your copy of the Daily Prophet?"

"Of course, Hermione," agreed McGonagall at once. "That might be very prudent." She stepped over to her chair and grabbed her newspaper. Returning the short distance to the Potters, she handed it to Hermione.

You don't get to be Hermione without fantastic reading and comprehension skills. While she read, the ambient sound levels of the Great Hall rose about three decibels every thirty seconds or so. By the time Hermione set the paper down, they were unlikely to be overheard. Hermione looked between Harry and McGonagall and said, "Our part in tipping off the Ministry about Azkaban is not suspected. The attack on us is portrayed as an attack on Umbridge. However, Voldemort obviously knew it was us, not just me, because of the sheer numbers he sent so that cannot be considered a secret from him, anymore. Our injuries are severe enough for some of the more observant students to make the connection. I think that we, and by 'we', I mean you, Harry, should make a statement acknowledging the injuries as being the result of our involvement but not the reasons or specifics. A few words concerning Ron's prospects for recovery and maybe a mention that my eye will be fine should be enough to head off most of the speculation."

Harry considered this and, like most advice from Hermione, decided that it was in their best interest to follow it. "Headmistress," he stated, "I believe Hermione is right, as usual. Could I be allowed to make a short address?"

McGonagall looked at Harry with exasperation. "Of course, Mr. Potter. I'm afraid I have little enough hope as it is to keep the students' attention on their schoolwork today. If no explanation is made at all, my optimism would be completely misplaced."

Harry, speaking to Hermione, asked, "Did they mention the Minister's injuries?"

"Rufus was injured?", interrupted Minerva, a look of concern on her face.

"No," said Hermione, to Harry, "and yes," to Minerva.

"I won't bring that up, then," said Harry. He also noticed the concern on Minerva's face and said, "He's fine, now. Probably already home, listening to a story." He smiled as he said this and it seemed to have a soothing effect on McGonagall.

"That's good news," said Minerva. "Rufus has been fairly reasonable, of late. Goodness knows who they would have put in to replace him." She went back to her seat. Seeing that Harry hadn't moved, she said, "Anytime you're ready, Mr. Potter.

Harry thought back to the last time something like this had happened. First his godfather, Sirius Black, had escaped, putting the wizarding community into a panic. Then, sometime later, a whole slew of the most vial Death Eaters had also managed to leave Azkaban. Harry didn't want to alarm the students but he didn't want to lie, either. Deciding on the course to take, he stepped around to the front of the dais and, putting his wand to his throat, said, "Sonorus. Could I have your attention for a moment?"

The booming voice echoed off of the walls and the hall became silent. "Thank you. I'd just like to give you some real information before the rumors become totally out of control. First, as some of you have already figured out and the rest of you should have, Ron, Hermione and I were involved in one of the attacks last night. Ron was hurt very badly, as you can see. He is currently unable to either walk or talk and some of his memories are gone." There was an audible and collective gasp as he said this. "I am glad to say that there doesn't seem to be any reduction in his ability to think. He can also still write so you will be able to communicate with him that way. We all hope that, given time, he will learn to walk, again. The same is true for talking. I actually think that this will happen faster because he never really used his brain that much while talking, anyway."

There was a stunned silence. Could they have heard right? Did Harry just mock his best friend who was now confined to a wheelchair? Perhaps they didn't know him as well as they thought they did. The one person who mattered most, however, got the joke and appreciated it. He laughed for a couple of seconds and gave Harry the thumbs up as a sign of understanding. All eyes were on Ron at this point, his laugh being so foreign to them. He saw their bewilderment and took a moment to write a short message in large type. He held it up for all to see. His parchment read, "I'm still me." Ginny, having gotten out of Ron's wheelchair when Harry started talking, looked upon her brother with renewed admiration.

Harry then continued, "As for the rest of us, Hermione hurt her eye but the patch is temporary. She should be back to normal in a couple of days. Ron, by the way, proved he was as normal as he ever was by making a pirate joke when he saw her. I was hit by a giant but I'm feeling much better, now."

Harry was about to cancel the spell and go eat breakfast when a young Ravenclaw first or second year girl nearby raised her hand, as if she were in class. Harry smiled and, pointing at her, asked, "Yes, miss? You have a question?"

"Yes, sir," she said, not noticing the surprised look on both Harry and Hermione's faces at the 'sir'. "According to the paper, somewhere around sixteen Death Eaters and two giants were killed at Umbridge's house. Since you were hit by a giant, could you confirm that as the location of all of your injuries and explain how you managed to defeat such a force."

Harry smiled and said, more to Hermione than anyone else, "Ravenclaws can be so annoying at times." Then, in a louder voice, said, "I guess I can't deny we were there. We were not, however, the only ones there. That is all I can say at this time."

Another hand shot up, this time from the Hufflepuff table. "Was Umbridge killed?"

"No," said Harry. He then added, "She was captured. Her location is currently unknown, except to her captors." True, but misleading.

A collective groan was emitted as if on cue. Harry was pretty sure they were not upset that she was captured. Harry was sure that he could make it to his table, this time, but before he took three steps, another question sailed his way from the Slytherin table, although without the courtesy of a raised hand. "Now that the Dark Lord has recovered his faithful followers, do you think you'll live to see the new year?"

Harry looked towards the Slytherins to see who had asked that question. It was Zabini. Apparently, he had gotten over the fright of his near-death experience from a month ago. His friends, however, inconspicuously tried to distance themselves from him as much as could be managed to avoid getting splattered by the pieces. Harry decided to act on the Minister's suggestion that they act as if the attack was more of an inconvenience than a success.

"I expect to, Blaise," said Harry. "Voldemort, himself, doesn't seem to have the desire to risk his pretty neck so I shouldn't have too much trouble with his slaves." There was a sudden intake of breath from the whole of the student body. Harry had, with one sentence, implied that Voldemort was a coward while dismissing the Death Eaters as an insignificant nuisance. The Slytherins, who had just had sizable portions of their families maligned, grumbled a bit but dared not say anything further to the man who stood fearless before them. Without another word, Harry took Hermione's hand and they went over to their places for breakfast.

Author's note: I was hoping to get to the party this chapter since it marks the fiftieth chapter and also marks passing the 300,000 word length. At the glacial pace I tend to make, it will be a few more chapters before we get to the party so, as this was already about the fourth longest chapter I have written, I decided to let it go and publish. The only question left is whether or not this one book will be longer than all seven of the other books combined. I guess we'll find out together.

Dad


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51 – Dolores and Peter; a Love Story

October 2nd, 1997

"It's about time you came down here," said Martha, standing with her hands on her hips. She then rushed over and gave first Hermione, then Harry each a hug. "I've never been more frustrated at not being able to come to see you." She went over and sat in Tonks' chair. Remus and Tonks had gone down to London after hearing about the extent of the attack on Azkaban. Although not on active duty and supposedly lying low for a while now that she was specifically identified to Voldemort as working with Harry, Tonks had worked several years with the aurors now recovering in St. Mungo's.

"So tell me," she said, getting very serious. "How's Ron? I've only heard bits and pieces from down here."

"Ron had the side of his head blown off by a reducto meant for me," said Hermione.

Martha turned in shock towards Harry for confirmation. Harry could sense her anxiety building up and decided to head it off. "He's doing okay, Martha," he said, soothingly. "He'll need some time to recover but he's in good hands."

Martha still looked on edge. "Well, which is it?" she asked. "I've never heard of someone who's had the side of their head blown off described as being in good shape." She was getting more concerned by the second.

"He had a lot of brain damage but Harry was able to repair or replace what was lost," said Hermione. "He can't walk or talk, yet, and he lost a lot of his memories but he still has all of his marbles."

"And that's doing okay, in your book?" she asked Harry. "It sounds like he's in terrible shape."

"He's the happiest man at Hogwarts, right now," said Harry. "He's being cared for by Honey in her flat and she's agreed to marry him."

"I thought you said Ron had the brain damage," said a voice above their heads. Looking up, they saw Grampa in his frame. He was smiling at them.

"Good morning, Grampa," said Harry. "You know, I was thinking the same thing earlier but decided it would be in bad taste to say it."

"Oh, I agree," said Grampa. "Anyway, I talked to Minerva last night and got most of the story from her. She said Ron seemed to be better than could be expected just by living."

"I think he's showing remarkable maturity by being thankful for just that," said Hermione. "At least for now, of course, we have high hopes for an eventual recovery."

"Nothing can be ruled out so soon," said Grampa, "and I wish him the best of luck. Before he allows Honey to marry him, however, he should make sure that she is fully aware of how their lives will be if he does not recover. She should not assume that everything will be fixed, someday."

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," said Harry. "For now, let's give them a few days to dream of a perfect life together."

"Well said," said Martha. "So what's Ron doing now and when is he coming down?"

"They're working on setting up Honey's flat to accommodate a wheelchair and trying to figure out a better way to communicate than just writing down everything," said Hermione.

"We also need to find a better way to get him long distances than apparating," huffed Harry.

"Was there a problem?" asked Martha. "I thought you were supposed to be good at that."

"Ordinarily," said Harry, "I am. When we got to Honey's flat, we just about skidded into the wall. I felt like I was losing him and had to grip onto that wheelchair for all I was worth."

"That's odd," said Hermione. "The Healer's Assistant didn't act like it would be that difficult."

"It wouldn't be difficult for her," said Grampa. "I had the same problem when my wife became ill and had to use a wheelchair."

Harry, Hermione and Martha all looked at each other and then, as one, looked back at the portrait. "Could you explain that a bit, Grampa?" asked Harry. "Why would you and I have trouble but the Healer's Assistant wouldn't?"

"Power, Harry," replied Grampa. "We are used to using our power to travel great distances and to pierce anti-apparition wards. The problem for me, and I suspect for you, is that the unusual position necessary, the odd weight distribution and the excessive amount of power available causes us to fly out of control a bit while trying to stop. I had to refrain from bringing my wife through anti-apparition wards entirely. If you are traveling with Ron, either take short jumps or allow an elf to assist him. It is my recommendation that you take the elf option as being the safest."

"That is a proven method," said Hermione, remembering the way Dobby was able to take Harry around when he was recovering from the wreck of the Hogwarts Express. "I suppose we could ask Slider to assign an elf or two to that duty to get Ron around the castle."

"Just a moment, Hermione," said Grampa. "If all you are looking for is a way to get Ron around locally, then I may have another option. Give me a few seconds while I check on something." He walked out of his portrait.

"I wonder what he's got up his sleeve, this time," said Harry. "He might..." What else Grampa might be up to would remain a mystery because he returned to his portrait at that moment.

"I have good news," said Grampa. "In my, or I should say, in Minerva's office, there is a small carpet under one of the side chairs. It is currently an illegal item, thanks, ironically enough, to Ron's father. When he was head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, he had flying carpets declared a menace to muggles due to their benign appearance and potentially catastrophic consequences should one take off with an untrained muggle aboard."

"A flying carpet?" asked Harry. He had heard of them, of course, but had never seen one.

"My wife used it to get around our house," said Grampa. "It would work quite well for Ron since, being flexible, he could just land on a bench in his classes and it would drape over the edge. He wouldn't have to get off of it."

"So how does that help Ron?" asked Martha.

"It sounds like we need to have the law adjusted to allow for compassionate use," said Hermione.

"That's a possibility," agreed Grampa, "but I would look for alternatives. I believe your intentions are to avoid emphasizing the seriousness of Ron's injury. In that case, you might want to circumvent the law."

Hermione said, "I don't think we'd want to do anything illegal."

"Said the witch who just cut off a couple dozen arms and sent the men and women they belonged to to secret prison cells without a trial," said Harry.

"We have a pretty good relationship with the Ministry, right now, and I wouldn't want to jeopardize that," countered Hermione.

"That might be a possibility," offered Martha. "Maybe Minister Scrimgeour could give you an exemption or something."

"Ahem," said Grampa, trying to be heard, "I believe I was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Now, the regulation against flying carpets is just that; a regulation. All regulations allow for some people to be exempt, as Martha suggested, but only for truly important reasons. Generally speaking, accommodating a disability is not considered a valid reason. It would also go against your stated desire of avoiding the publicizing of Ron's injury. I would suggest the research tact."

"Research?" asked Hermione. "What sort of research would need to be done on a flying carpet? They've been around for thousands of years."

"It doesn't matter," said Grampa. "As long as you state 'research' as the reason you need a permit, they won't ask too many questions in the licensing bureau." He paused a second before adding, "As long as you include the fee, of course."

"Then why doesn't everyone do that?" asked Harry. It seemed to be a big loophole.

"The fee is usually designed to deter that sort of practice," answered Grampa. "I would hazard a guess of between one and five thousand galleons for this type of permit."

"I suppose that sounds like the quickest way. Could you please write down what we are looking for, Hermione?" asked Harry. "I'll send Slinky to Mr. Weasley with your note. She can handle any money transfers that are necessary. He'll know who to talk to to speed up the process."

Hermione agreed and began writing down their requirements. While she was doing that, Harry had another concern. He needed time for his side to regroup and adapt. Ron's ability to participate was unclear at this point. For the next few days, at least, he and Honey would need to concentrate on his own needs without concerning himself about fighting Voldemort. Hermione had also had a severe injury. It was true that she would recover quickly. Nevertheless, she could not be expected to be at one hundred percent for at least a few days. Getting Voldemort to cooperate and hold back was the hard part. Now that he had his old forces back, all hell would break loose. Since getting Voldemort to delay doing just that was a Ron type problem, he would have to wait for an answer.

"Here you are, Harry," said Hermione, handing Harry the parchment describing their assignment for Mr. Weasley. Harry was pretty sure that if a legal way to help Ron was possible, even though it circumvented one of his own regulations, Mr. Weasley would not rest until he had made all of the required rounds.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry. "Slinky, please come here."

A few moments later, Slinky appeared and asked, "What can Slinky be doing for Master?"

"I have a note that I need taken to Mr. Weasley," said Harry. "I think he's in his office."

"Master Weasley is not being in his office, Master," replied Slinky.

Surprised at the immediate response, Harry asked, "He's not? Where is he, then?"

Slinky had to concentrate for a second before saying "Master Weasley is being with Mistress Honey in her rooms, Master."

"That's odd," said Hermione. "He would have had to head back up here almost as soon as you dropped him off. Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "Maybe Ginny wanted to talk to him. It doesn't matter. We'd better go see him before he leaves, again."

With a promise to Martha to bring Ron down at their first opportunity, Harry apparated Hermione and Slinky to Honey's front door. Harry knocked and they all waited. After a few seconds, Honey opened the door.

"Hello, again," she said. "What's up?" She seemed to be as surprised to see them so soon as they were at having to come back.

"Hi, Honey," said Hermione. "We just needed to speak with Mr. Weasley for a moment, if that would be okay." She tried to peer inside with her one good eye.

"He's not here," said Honey. "Harry took him back to London an hour or so ago." She looked as confused as the rest of them.

"Slinky," said Harry. "We seem to have some sort of a miscommunication going on. Where do you think Mr. Weasley is, right now?"

"Mr. Weasley is sitting in his rolling chair, next to Mistress Honey's pantry," said Slinky.

Honey opened the door wide and they all looked in to see Ron, who had decided that it was time for dessert, slicing off a piece of chocolate cake. Molly was sitting next to him in one of the breakfast chairs.

Harry had to think for a minute. What was wrong with Slinky? Hermione, however, only needed five seconds. "We don't mean Ron, Slinky," she said. "We mean his father; the other Mr. Weasley." It was so clear now. Hermione explained to the others. "Ron is the only 'Mr. Weasley' that Slinky knows. He wasn't in his office, the one we were sitting in when we were talking to her, so she could not take the message to him there."

"What message do you want to send to Arthur?" asked Molly. "Perhaps I could take it when I head back home."

"This one," said Harry, handing her the parchment. "We were talking with Grampa and he happens to have a flying carpet that Ron could use. We need a permit, though. That's were Slinky and Mr. Weasley come in. Mr. Weasley would know the right people to talk to and Slinky could get the money out of Gringotts."

Ron perked up at the mention of a flying carpet. He started to write down a question but Hermione was, unfortunately, standing behind him. She read the half finished question and said, "Yes, Ron. His wife used it when she was sick. He's sure it will..." She stopped at the surly glance she was getting from Ron. He ripped off the sheet of notepaper he was using and threw it into the fireplace.

"We've learned one thing, already," said Honey, mostly to Hermione. "After about the hundredth time Molly and I did it, Ron let us know just how annoying it is to have people respond to questions or statements before he's had time to finish them." Ron nodded emphatically.

"I'm sorry, Ron," said Hermione, giving him a hug. "I expect we'll all need some time to adjust. Have you and Honey come up with any ideas to help with communications?" She consciously decided to not say another word until he had finished his response.

Ron paused a moment, looking at her, before he started writing. Hermione resisted the urge to watch for the first minute. Then the next. Halfway through the third, however, she sneaked a peek and saw that he had only written three words. He was sitting with his pen touching his lips as if thinking.

Hermione read the three words and said, in half a huff and half a laugh, "Oh, now you're just baiting me."

Ron smirked and held up the paper. He had written, "Yes, we have."

Honey stepped in and said, "We think that some of the more common expressions could be pre-printed on some cards. Things like 'Yes', 'No', 'I don't understand' and 'Feed me', for example." Ron laughed at her last example and Honey joined in. She was starting to get the hang of the good-natured harassment at which the rest of them were so adept.

"I think my dad still has an old Rolodex laying around somewhere," offered Hermione. "I'll owl them and ask."

Ron wrote a short note. Handing it to Hermione, she read 'What's a roller deck?'

"It's an old muggle way of keeping track of addresses," explained Hermione. "It should work on a large number of these cards, though. You just put them in alphabetical order and you spin this wheel on the side to get to the one you want. I would imagine it wouldn't take long to get good at it."

The five other people in the room seemed as confused as ever but if Hermione thought it might work, they were willing to give it a shot.

Harry had another thought. "Mrs. Weasley," he began, "I believe you said you were planning on seeing your other children soon. I was thinking that they would all probably want to see Ron so if you wanted to, you could just invite them to the party this Saturday afternoon."

"A party?" asked Molly. "You're having a party?"

Harry was surprised but soon realized he had no right to be. The party on Saturday had originally been intended to be a school affair. Besides the other merchants involved, Fred and George would know about it, of course, being the suppliers of the fireworks, but the other brothers and Molly and Arthur would not have known anything. "We are having a combination party," explained Harry. "It will be a birthday party for Luna Lovegood and McGonagall, a second wedding reception for Hermione and me and an engagement party for Ron and Honey. I also asked the Minister to invite the Aurors and their families. I think it could serve as an impromptu Weasley family reunion, as well."

Molly thought for a moment before saying, "I don't know why not. Charlie would be the only one who could be trouble. An owl wouldn't get to him in time."

"Why not just use your portkey?" asked Hermione. "If you wait until you're ready to leave, just portkey to him first. Let him know when you are going to pick him up and then portkey back to your home. It should recharge by Saturday, shouldn't it?"

"Saturday wouldn't be a problem," said Molly. "Today might, though." She looked at the pendant. "I used up half of the charge coming up from London. If I go to see Charlie, I would have to wait until tomorrow to get home."

"Let me see the necklace," said Harry. Molly handed it to him and he held it in his hand. Concentrating, he watched as the magic indicator went from half to fully charged in about a minute. He handed it back.

"Thanks, Harry," said Molly. She put the necklace back around her neck.

"No problem, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Harry?" asked Molly. "Don't you think it's time you started calling me 'Molly' and Arthur 'Arthur'? It's not as if we just met." She looked at him appraisingly.

"I don't know," said Harry. "It might have prevented the misunderstanding with Slinky. I've managed the same thing with Minerva and Poppy and I think that Scrimgeour isn't that far off but you and Mr. Weasley are too important to me to feel comfortable using your first names. I've tried it once or twice but it never felt right."

Molly paused just a second before saying, "I understand, Harry. Whenever you feel comfortable, Arthur and I will be ready." She had to smile at Harry's reticence to address his surrogate parents as equals.

Ron was writing a note during this exchange. He handed it to Harry.

"Not yet," said Harry. "We wanted to send the note to your dad first." He, like Ron,tossed the note into the fireplace.

"I can tell already," said Hermione, "that we need to set up a few ground rules concerning Ron's notes. If a public response is going to be given, the note should first be read aloud. If it is meant to be private, it should be answered in a whisper. I'm sure we'll add a few rules as you two," she indicated Ron and Harry, "come up with new and unexpected ways to annoy everyone around you."

"I agree," said Honey. "I'd also like to make a rule about visiting hours. I realize that both Molly and Harry are capable of popping in at any time. I would like to request that between the hours of nine at night and eight in the morning, you refrain from doing just that."

"Eleven hours a day?" said Harry. He thought a moment before saying, "I suppose you could still get in eight hours sleep a day if you take a nap in the afternoon." Whap! Hermione hit him on the back of his head.

Ron wrote a short note and handed it to Harry. Harry, remembering Hermione's edict, read aloud, "Harry! Watch what you say. My mum's in the room." Ron grabbed the note back and pointed out a word at the top that Harry had missed. Harry, deciding it was too late anyway, said, "It says 'Private' at the top." Turning to Molly, he added, "Mrs. Weasley, could you please forget the last thirty seconds?"

By eleven o'clock, Slinky had left with Molly for the Ministry after first taking Ron down to their office. The trip by elf, even a very young and inexperienced one, was much better than Harry's first attempt to apparate a wheelchair.

"I guess that will be your best option for the time being," said Harry. He had brought Hermione and Honey down himself. He then thought further and said, "I suppose we'll need to figure out a way for you to call one when you need to get somewhere."

Ron nodded and Hermione made a note to check on that. Before they could decide their next move, Martha burst into the room and gave Ron a bear hug.

"Ron," she cried, "I'm so glad to finally see you. These idiots," she indicated Harry and Hermione, "kept going back and forth between you being on death's door and having a parchment cut."

Ron laughed at this, an action that had the usual effect of catching people, Martha included, off guard. She could tell from the smile on his face, though, that he was happy so she smiled back. She then also gave a hug to Honey.

"I can't even guess at how you feel," she said to the professor. "Such a devastating injury but he's alive and you're getting married, too, I hear. How can you stand it?"

"Oh, I went insane an hour or so ago," said Honey. They all laughed at this. "Actually," said Honey, "I don't know if I'm kidding. We're just trying to do the best we can with what we have." She smiled and gave an appreciative Ron a kiss.

Martha smiled and sat down. She decided to get to business, at least a little. "I should probably mention that we still haven't seen any Death Eaters at the monitored sites. If possible, I'd like a list of the new, or I should say 'old' Death Eaters that escaped yesterday. My team could probably check for them by name in case the dark mark has been disguised or removed."

"I'll owl the Minister to ask if he could send us a list or maybe bring one on Saturday," said Hermione. Again, her 'To do' list had an addition.

"Thanks," said Martha. "I have a question. Why, exactly, do all of the new prisoners have a number on their foreheads?" She looked at them, hoping for a logical explanation but not really expecting one.

"That's simple," answered Harry. "It was after midnight; we had over fifty of them to do; and we had just survived a major attack. We thought we could get by with the numbers until we had some time to do a proper job."

"So you'll be doing that today?" asked Martha.

"We might," said Harry. "It might be a waste of time or at least a waste of effort. We'll have the anti-nausea potion ready on Sunday. If we wait until then to question them, after we turn them back to normal, we might have a lot better luck."

"But what if something is in the works that you should know about?" asked Martha.

Ron raised his hand and motioned for them to wait. He then wrote down a few sentences on his notepad. While he was doing this, Hermione said to Martha, "Just so you don't bugger things up as much as me, Ron doesn't like it when you read over his shoulder or answer a question before he finishes it. Also, if he gives you a note that you plan on answering publicly, please read the note out loud so you don't drive everyone else crazy by hearing half of a conversation."

Hermione then looked back at Ron to see him staring at her. He then went back to writing. Guessing what the problem was and wanting to head off other problems, she said, "Ron." He stopped again and looked at her. She continued, "We'll meet you half way. I understand your rules but the world isn't going to stop every time you pick up a pen. I've watched you write essays and I just don't have the lifespan to be waiting for you to finish before I can say something to anyone."

Ron thought about this and looked to Honey, apparently for an opinion. Honey thought about it and said, "I think you're both right. How about if when you indicate you have something that will further the discussion, we won't move on without you. We should, however, be free to discuss related items or just chit chat. Would that be fair enough?"

Ron paused a second in thought and then shrugged his shoulders and nodded. He then finished his almost finished note and handed it to Martha.

Martha read the note and said, "I see your point, Ron. You're probably right."

"Martha," said Hermione. "You're supposed to read the note out loud if you answer it out loud."

"Oh," said Martha. "I forgot. It says 'If Voldemort has something planned that will happen by Sunday, after conducting three major attacks, we're not going to be in a position to do anything about it, anyway.' ".

"True enough," agreed Harry. "That reminds me, Ron. We need to keep Voldemort off of our backs for a while so we can regroup. Could you have that figured out by noon?" He looked at Ron as if expecting a plan to be presented immediately.

Ron looked at Harry blankly for a few seconds before jotting down a note.

Harry read aloud, "That's a good idea, actually. The trick is keeping them busy without hurting someone. It might take until after lunch."

Martha asked, "So how many of the Death Eaters were released from Azkaban?"

"I think around a hundred or so," said Harry.

"Do you know how many were killed when they attacked you," she continued.

"Sixteen," said Harry.

"Slider said sixteen outside the wall and two more in the house," corrected Hermione. "That doesn't count the giants."

"That's fifty-six captured plus eighteen dead, then," summarized Martha.

"Twenty dead," said Hermione. "Two died at the norther fortress."

"Okay, twenty dead," said Martha. "Altogether, you and your team accounted for a loss of seventy-six Death Eaters plus two giants. If the Minister was able to be effective at all, we could assume at least a few more at Azkaban. Even if they didn't kill any, that is only a net gain of twenty-four Death Eaters for Voldemort. Why is that such a big deal?"

"Because these are truly evil," explained Harry. "I feel bad about the twenty dead because they might all have been like Wood. The ones we captured will at least survive and won't be able to do Voldemort's bidding anymore. The hundred, though, have and will freely choose to kill and destroy whoever and whatever he tells them to. They are also free from the loyalty spell and will be much more effective than we have seen in the past."

"I see why you aren't in that much of a hurry to see your new ones, then," said Martha. "They aren't much more than temporary workers that Voldemort used until his real Death Eaters were released. They won't do you much good."

"There is one new prisoner that I want to see." He smiled at the thought. Looking at the confused expression on Ron's face, he said, "Oh, sorry, Ron; I don't think we mentioned it yet. Apparently, Wormtail led the attack on the northern fortress."

Ron looked shocked for a second and then a faint smile crossed his face. He wrote, "Let's go stroke his fur the wrong way and see what he knows." He had never quite gotten over the fact that his pet rat turned out to be one of the biggest traitors in wizarding history.

Honey asked, "Stroke his fur?" She looked pretty confused at the reference.

Hermione said, "There's a lot of background to Wormtail, Honey. Why don't you just go along for the ride for now. We'll explain it all either this afternoon or this evening."

Honey nodded in agreement and the four of them headed down to Wormtail's cell. Harry had specified that he be placed in an elf apparition warded cell and that he be under direct visual surveillance of an elf at all times. All air holes were reduced to a quarter inch diameter with a few new ones added. Hermione had made that suggestion, remembering that Wormtail had received his nickname due to his animangus form.

As they progressed, Harry noticed that most of the other prisoners were watching them with only a mild interest. A few seemed to be heartened by the damage that Ron and Hermione had sustained. Others looked more closely, not so much out of concern for their well being as to be accurately aware of the severity of their wounds should some sort of an opportunity arise. After passing through the snake door, with Honey levitating Ron over the lip, they soon arrived at the cell of Peter Pettigrew.

He didn't look very happy. Of course he was missing both of his hands. It was just Wormtail's bad luck. The left arm, like those of the other Death Eaters, had the dark mark and had to be removed and placed in the ice fortress. The right hand was an artifact created by Voldemort himself after Wormtail had to cut the original off in the ceremony that restored his master to his original body. Harry had no way of knowing if that could be traced so he took no chances.

When Wormtail saw them approaching, he immediately started pleading with them. At least that was what it looked like he was doing. The silencing charm made it impossible to know for sure. "Hello, Millie," said Harry to the elf guarding Wormtail. "Have you had any trouble from this piece of dung?"

"No trouble, Harry Potter," answered Millie. "He is being trying to pop away many times but is not being getting anywhere."

"If he doesn't like it here now," said Harry, "wait until Remus gets back." Harry, Hermione and Ron all laughed at the thought of this. Honey, not knowing anything about the pathetic wretch standing terrified before them, wondered if they had a cruel streak that, until now, they had hidden from her.

Harry activated the sound to the cell. They caught Wormtail in mid-bargain. "help you, Harry. I've always liked you. Just let me prove myself."

"You have already proven as much about yourself as we will ever need to know, you dirty rat," said Harry. It occurred to him that that expression sounded familiar.

"But Harry," whined the rat, "I can be of great help to you. I know much about the Dark Lord's plans. I can draw maps and give you names and addresses of many of our, I mean his, contacts. Of course it will be harder to do without my hands." He held up his stumps, perceiving, perhaps, that Harry could help him on this count.

"Maybe you should do that," said Harry. "Give me the names and addresses of five of Voldemort's spies and I'll give you back a hand. Make it ten and you'll get to choose which one."

His bluff called, Wormtail tried to change the subject. He said, "How do I know you'll keep your word or that you can even give me back my hand?"

In reply, Harry pulled out his wand and created a hand that would easily replace the one that Wormtail had cut off several years ago. Just as Pettigrew held out his right stump greedily, Harry dissipated the spell and the hand disappeared.

"Now you know," said Harry. "How about those names?"

Wormtail looked conflicted. Again, he deflected the direct request to come through with his offer. "How did I get here?" he asked. "Where's 'here' for that matter?" He looked around like he was actually curious. Harry was no Luna; still, he could sense that Wormtail had no intentions of actually aiding him.

"Don't you remember?" he asked the rat. "You and your friends 'dropped in' last night." Ron and Hermione laughed at the joke but, once again, Honey failed to see the humor in it.

"I'm starting to get a little tired of feeling like an idiot just because I haven't known all of you for six years," said Honey. "Do you think that Ron and I could go back to our flat so that he can fill me in?"

In an instant, Hermione had her wand out and pointed right at Harry's head. "Don't even think it," she said in a menacing voice." Harry, who a moment before had sported a huge grin and had obviously been about to say something, gulped and remained silent. Ron, on the other hand, blushed to maximum but also said nothing, of course. He did have a smirk on his face but could not look Honey in the eye, for some reason.

After he could control his baser instincts, Harry said, "I suppose you and Ron still have some things to work out, Honey. We're almost done, here." He then turned to Millie, knowing full well that the sound to the cell was still on. "Millie, are there still enough cells for all of the prisoners?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Millie. "We is still having twelve unused cells that isn't having any prisoners being in them."

"Only twelve," said Harry, as if to himself. Louder, he then declared, "We might have to start doubling them up. I think this one," he pointed at Wormtail, "looks lonely and would get along with that other chap. What was his name?" He put his hand to his chin as if in thought. "Oh, yes," he said, after a second, "Greyback. I think they'd get along just fine." Without another word, Harry reinstated the silencing charm.

Harry asked, "Millie, could you please apparate Ron to Honey's rooms."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said the elf but stopped at a gesture from Ron. He had turned away from Wormtail in his chair and noticed that Umbridge, who had finally been placed in her own cell, was directly across the hall.

"What is it, Ron?" asked Honey but stopped as he did his best to indicate that they should all remain silent for just a moment. Harry and Hermione, after years of experience, knew that inside his head, the gears were really spinning, right now. After another thirty seconds, Ron had the idea established enough to remember it and started to write.

Harry waved the girls to a spot about twenty feet away from Ron. "When Ron has a flash of brilliance," whispered Harry, mostly for the benefit of Honey, "he needs a few seconds to get his thoughts in order or it's gone. Unless I miss my guess, you're about to see why he is as important in the fight against Voldemort as any of us."

They all turned and watched as Ron would write a sentence or two, pause to think for a moment and then continue to write. After about five minutes, he signaled to them to join him. He handed the note to Hermione. She glanced through it in preparation for reading it to the others. Before she did so, she looked at Umbridge with a wicked smile on her face and said, "I believe our High Inquisitor is about to have a very bad day."

October 3rd, 1997 – The next day

Three o'clock P.M.

In the private office of Barnabus Cuffe

Barnabus Cuffe sat behind his large oak desk, barely able to contain his excitement. The story of the century, if not the millennium, was about to be revealed to him. He had been asked for an appointment by none other than Harry Potter. After missing two major events in the famous wizards life due to some unfortunate editorial policies, it seemed that he was finally in the good graces of the Chosen One. With the hints given, it would seem that he would be able to publish an inside account of the recent attacks from both sides. Potter had claimed that he was bringing one of You-Know-Who's inner circle, as well.

Next to Cuffe, a slightly aging blonde sat waiting for her chance to shine, once again. Rita Skeeter had gotten on the bad side of Harry Potter a few years ago. Actually, she had gotten on the bad side of his wife, Hermione. Three years ago, the abilities of Hermione Granger were well known only to the inhabitants of Hogwarts. Even at the age of fifteen, there were few there that would seek out a confrontation with her without substantial backup. Rita had not known this, of course, and had paid the price. Now, three years older, battle tested and the wife of Harry Potter, there was no way that Rita would do anything but agree to whatever terms the frightening witch put forth.

'Speak of the devil,' she thought as four people suddenly appeared in the room. She recognized Harry and Hermione Granger, as well as Dolores Umbridge. The other wizard, however, seemed to look familiar but she couldn't place him. She rose with Cuffe as they greeted their guests.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," said Cuffe as he enthusiastically shook Harry's hand. He then turned to the others in the group.

Harry took the initiative and introduced everyone. "Good afternoon, Mr. Cuffe; Rita." He also briefly took Rita Skeeter's hand. "I believe you have both already met my wife, Hermione. The other young lady is Dolores Umbridge and the gentleman is Peter Pettigrew." They all shook hands and then sat down.

"I'm afraid that I'm unable to offer tea, Mr. Potter," said Cuffe. "As per your instructions, the office is locked and barred."

"I'm sure we'll survive, Mr. Cuffe," said Harry. "Now, down to business. As your fine newspaper reported, there was an attack at the home of Dolores Umbridge on Wednesday night as well as at Azkaban. What was not reported was the fact that a third attack also took place."

Cuffe and Skeeter both leaned forward and Rita, the professional reporter, asked, "Another attack? Where did this one take place, exactly." Her dictation quill was writing down everything anyone said. Unusually, for her at least, it was recording the meeting accurately.

"The exact location must remain a secret but the attack was aimed at my fortress," said Harry. "It is somewhat north of here," he added with a chuckle.

"I led that attack," said Wormtail. "There were forty Death Eaters besides myself who were part of that raid."

"Forty, you say," said Rita. "I must assume that that particular operation was less than successful since Harry is still able to be sitting with us."

"Quite correct," said Harry. "It never had a chance, anyway. My defenses are much too powerful for a few Death Eaters to breach them. In this case, however, Mr. Pettigrew was knowingly leading his men to certain defeat. Peter had given me the specifics so I was aware of where and when he would strike and we just rounded up everyone without a struggle. Again, unfortunately, the details must remain secret."

"Mr. Pettigrew gave you the specifics?" repeated Rita. "Are you openly declaring yourself as a spy against You-Know-Who, Mr. Pettigrew?" She assumed she was speaking with a dead man.

"Call me Peter," said Wormtail. "I rather think the jig is up, anyway. Even Tommy has probably figured out I was working against him by now."

"Tommy?" asked Cuffe and Skeeter, together.

"Oh, you call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," said Peter. "Around headquarters we just call him Tommy. It's his real name, you see. He actually prefers to be called 'Master' or 'The Dark Lord' but behind his back, pretty much everyone calls him Tommy."

"I see," said Cuffe. "It must have been somewhat difficult, though, capturing all of those Death Eaters. I've heard reports that one of your associates, a Mr. Ronald Weasley, was severely wounded. I also see for myself that your beautiful bride has a patch over her eye that definitely wasn't in her wedding photos. How do you explain the inconsistency?"

"Bad luck on our part," said Hermione. "Our injuries, by the way, occurred at Dolores' house, not at our fortress. Ron was hit by a lucky shot but should be okay, soon. My patch will come off either tomorrow or Sunday. It's just the result of a bit of glass in my eye. The rest of the battle went mostly our way. We captured sixteen Death Eaters, I believe, but due to the injuries to Ron and myself, we were put a bit off balance and were forced to kill eighteen others plus two giants."

"You make it sound like you expected to capture them all," said Cuffe. He was shocked by the story, but the facts he was aware of seemed to support the veracity of this group.

"Oh, we did," said Harry. "Our forces were waiting for them and, to be blunt, the average Death Eater isn't very swift. It was as Hermione said; we were hit with a couple of lucky shots before we could take them down. Otherwise, with the possible exception of the giants, we would have captured them all quite easily."

"And how did you become involved in all of this, Dol, I mean, Miss Umbridge?" asked Rita.

"Oh, don't act as if we've never met before, Rita," said Umbridge. "I should apologize, I guess. When Peter first brought up the idea of this plan, the only difficult part was figuring out how to attract the attention of a different high level Death Eater. By pretending to spy on Minister Scrimgeour and feeding the information to a selection of, shall we say, potentially unscrupulous people, we could hope that a direct connection to the upper ranks of the Death Eaters would be established. It turned out to be one that I was already acquainted with from my days at Hogwarts; Severus Snape."

"Snape?" shouted Cuffe in alarm. "You were meeting secretly with Dumbledore's murderer?"

"A few times," said Umbridge. "We thought it would take longer than that but Severus seemed to be quite eager to believe whatever I told him. When the time was right, Hermione took my place, using polyjuice potion, of course, and Harry and his friend, Ron, both under invisibility cloaks. We figured that even someone as bumbling as Snape would be able to detect their presence. He did, and ran back to his better half to report."

Wormtial said, "That was what we were waiting for. Tommy bought into it and tried this crazy three-pronged attack. Well, naturally, the attack on Harry's fortress didn't even get started before they were all caught. Dolores' house was a mixed bag. Tommy lost all of his men but they did manage to injure two teenagers. He did get lucky at Azkaban, of course." He looked to Harry to explain.

"That was mostly bad luck, again," said Harry. "Peter had sent word about the attack, of course, but there was a bit of damage to the parchment. Apparently, the owl was caught in a storm and had to grip the message tighter. It's talons pierced the parchment right where the third zero was in the message so we thought What's-His-Name was attacking with up to thirty Death Eaters instead of three hundred. The Minister only took seventy aurors, as you have already reported, which would have been plenty for thirty, and the rest is history."

"So what are your plans, now?" asked Rita. "Dolores' house was destroyed and Peter is exposed as a traitor."

"We'll be staying at Harry's fortress after our honeymoon," said Peter. "It is secure enough against Tommy. Harry and Hermione have it set up pretty nice. We've formed a few quidditch teams with the captured Death Eaters and it's sort of a party atmosphere, most of the time."

"Did you say you would be staying there after your honeymoon?" asked Rita. "Are you two getting married?"

"We already have," said Peter. "Dolores and I were made for each other." He leaned over and they kissed. "You see," Peter explained, "I've never been too sure about my preferences, if you know what I mean. I had plenty of opportunities to try it either way, between Bela and Tommy. It wasn't until I met, Dolores, though, that I had it all." He smiled at her, lovingly.

"What do you mean?" asked Cuffe, unable to control himself. It was Dolores who answered.

"Well," said Umbridge, "I'm fairly butch to begin with, you see, and we found that if I just let my mustache grow a bit more than usual, Peter was happy with me, whatever mood he was in."

For the first time in her life, Rita Skeeter was at a loss for words. It was at this precise moment that a tapping was heard at the window. Looking up, they all saw a snowy white owl with a large package tied to it's leg.

"Hedwig!" shouted Harry as he rushed to open the window. Hedwig hopped in and Harry removed the package. "It's from your folks," said Harry to Hermione. Apparently, their message was received and they had sent the Rolodex.

"Aren't you the lucky one, Hedwig?" asked Hermione. "I think we saved her about a four hundred mile flight with that brick tied to her leg."

Harry looked at his group and said, "I suppose we'd better be off. It's my turn to referee for tonight's match." They all stood up and prepared to apparate out. Harry then said, as if just remembering, "I almost forgot, Mr. Cuffe. Did you want a picture or two?"

Ten minutes and twelve pictures later, they were again preparing to leave. Rita had one final question. "Could you just give me a clue on why you think this 'fortress' of yours is so safe?"

Harry, looking mischievous, said, "Only off the record. Besides the usual defenses, we added one more that would only be useless against Tom, himself."

"And what is that?" asked Rita, leaning in.

"It's invisible to anyone not wearing pink knickers," said Harry. With that, he took his group, Hedwig included, and apparated away.

Author's Note: No, it's not the real Peter or Dolores. If you can't figure out who they really are, it will be discussed in the next chapter.

Dad


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52 – Just Before the Party

October 3rd, 1997

Early evening

"Let's see," said Hermione, reading the cards in front of her. "So far we have 'Bloody hell!', 'Feed me', 'Goodbye', 'Hello', 'Hooray for bath time!', 'How was your night?', 'I don't know', 'I don't understand', 'I know she's too good for me', 'I'm fine but expect to take a while to recover', 'I love you', 'No', 'Oh, Baby!', 'Please pass the salt/pepper/sugar/tea/coffee/pumpkin juice', 'Please repeat the question/statement', 'Thanks', 'That's a bit of a personal question', 'WARNING! I'm about to try another non-verbal spell!', 'Who cares?', 'Yes, we're really getting married', 'Yes' and 'Yes! Yes! Yes!'. Does anyone besides Harry have any more suggestions." She wouldn't let him contribute anymore after he put in the 'Yes! Yes! Yes!'. She tried to throw it out but Ron insisted that he would need it to go along with his main contribution of 'Oh, Baby!'.

"I was thinking of 'No, thanks. I couldn't eat another bite'," said Honey, "but seeing as how it's Ron, it'd be a waste of a card."

"All kidding aside," said Tonks, "I think you'll just have to play it by ear and see what sort of expressions you use the most."

"Perhaps you'll want to have a few partial sentences, as well," said Remus. "Things like 'I understand your point but don't understand ...' and then write down the rest on your notepad."

"That's a good idea," said Honey, "and a good example." She wrote it down on a card; in small letters on the top on one side and in large type on the other. She handed it to Hermione who put it in the Rolodex just after 'I'm fine but expect to take a while to recover'.

"That'll probably get you started, Ron," she said, pushing the office tool in front of him. "Just remember what I told you about keeping them in alphabetical order or you'll never find what you're looking for."

Ron spun the dial and pulled out the 'Thanks' card. He then put it back. Hermione had enchanted the Rolodex to allow him to remove the cards easily but they would remain in place during the search for the right one.

"You're welcome, Ron," said Hermione. She looked away for a bit but turned back and, a little hesitant at first, she said, "Ron, now that things have calmed down a bit, I have something I've wanted to say for a while. It may seem silly to some and I normally wouldn't say this in front of a group but since I was mean to you in public, I should apologize the same way."

Ron looked as confused as everyone. He flipped through the Rolodex but didn't find an appropriate card. Everyone waited while he wrote out one for himself. He held it up and Hermione read, 'What do you mean?'.

"From the time you were hurt, all I could think of was the last things I did with you. I practically made you beg for a brownie. I threatened you for humming. It may sound silly but if you had died, I would have never forgiven myself for treating you like that. You wanted a treat and you were happy about Honey and wanted to hum a bit and I complained about them both. Please forgive me because I just can't help..." Her voice started to crack and she couldn't go on.

Ron took out his notepad. This wouldn't be the sort of thing he would need to pull out on a regular basis, he hoped. He wrote a short note to her and she read it, first to herself, then, after a few tears calmed her down, she read it out loud.

"Hermione," she read, "There is nothing to forgive. We have always teased each other. It's one of the things we do. There was no way for you to know that it could have all ended at that moment but I know you love me as much as I love you. I also know, and so do you, that if you had known where that reducto was going to hit, you wouldn't have ducked. We're best friends and always will be."

Hermione got up and gave Ron a kiss and a hug. Harry waited a few seconds before looking at Honey. "You know, Honey," he said, "I never properly thanked you for offering to make us those brownies." He got up and walked towards her; Honey rising as he approached with her arms outstretched.

Hermione decided not to play this time and simply sat down. She watched as Harry and Honey, their bluff called, had no choice but to continue as if that was their original intention. Harry returned a moment later, seemingly dazed and touched his lips softly where they had brushed Honey's. Perhaps he could get a rise out of Hermione after all if he played his cards right.

It was Honey, though, that had the deck stacked, or something stacked at least, in her favor. "Harry," she said, "my parents owled to let me know they were coming to visit tomorrow. I had let them know about how badly Ron was injured and that we were going to get married. Do you think it would be okay if I invited them to stay for the party?"

Harry didn't catch on immediately and simply said, "Sure."

Honey leaped to her feet and ran over, saying, "Oh, thank you, Harry," and gave him another hug and a much more exuberant kiss.

This time Harry really was dazed and confused.

"You never invited Remus and me to your party," pouted Tonks. "Do we have to stay at home?"

"Oh, of course not," said Harry, in alarm. "I'd love for you and Remus to join us." He certainly didn't want them to feel like he was excluding them.

The metamorphmangus inflated her chest a full two sizes as she rushed over to give Harry another over-the-top kiss. "Oh, thank you; thank you," she said over and over as she wrapped her arms around him and plastered his face with her osculations.

Hermione tried her best to ignore Tonks even though she knew the older witch was trying her best to tweak her as much as Harry. Eventually, when she suspected that Harry might be enjoying it all a bit too much, she said, "You know, dear, maybe it would be a good idea to remember that you'll have to fall asleep, sometime."

Harry instantly released the reciprocal embrace that he had unconsciously started to give Tonks. Tonks laughed and went back to sit next to Remus, who removed his hands from his eyes. Looking first at Tonks and then moving down to her 40 DD's, he asked, "I don't suppose you could leave those for a bit?" The urbanity of the discussion degraded substantially from that point.

Later that night

"Aren't you even concerned that something terribly unexpected might be planned for tomorrow?", asked Hermione. She had been both proud of Harry for allowing Winky to plan tomorrow's school-wide party and feared for his sanity for exactly the same reason.

"I like surprises," said Harry, a little sleepily, having been almost asleep before his wife asked her question. Wives are good at timing that sort of thing.

"I hope we aren't all surprised."

"Anything we could do about it at this point?"

"No."

"Then I'm not worried. Good night."

Sigh. "Good night."

October 4th, 1997

Minerva's Birthday

Luna's Birthday

Shortly after eight o'clock in the morning

Snape walked down the dimly lit corridor towards the kitchen. He hoped that he would be able to delegate some of his daily morning rituals to one of the recently released servants of the Dark Lord, soon. Perhaps after a few more days to recover and reestablish themselves as part of the Death Eaters, one of them would be trusted enough by his master to take over the tedious task of fetching his breakfast and paper. Until then, however, this was his lot.

Sanders and Preston were taking their turn at the stove. Sanders was turning out cauldron cakes as fast as he could while Preston was scrambling several dozen eggs. One or the other, depending on who was occupied at the moment, monitored and periodically turned the sausages. As each batch was finished, it was placed in large containers on the kitchen table. Well practiced Death Eaters would amble through in a fairly constant stream, grab a plate and fork, load up and then find a place to eat. This would continue until the food was all cooked and consumed.

Unlike other despots, and to his credit, Lord Voldemort didn't have to have special plates, utensils or food. He ate what his followers ate on the plates that they used. Snape gathered up two breakfasts, complete with coffee, and put them on a tray. He then went to the stack of papers they had delivered to a nearby location and took two. He put them on the tray and prepared to carry the lot up to the Dark Lord's bedroom when the headline caught his eye. He opened it up and quickly glanced through the articles.

Snape, looking around, said, "Saunders, you don't look well. Let me take over for you while you have breakfast and a quick lie down." He ushered Sanders over to the tray and removed his breakfast. "Just drop this off with the Dark Lord on your way to your room."

"I feel fine," said Sanders. "Never better." He looked confused.

"Don't argue," ordered Snape. "Take that up to your Master."

"Yes, sir," said Sanders and took the tray and left.

Snape flipped the cauldron cakes while humming 'Live and let die.'

"Good morning, Harry; good morning, Hermione. There seems to be an ah, well, uh, 'interesting' article in the paper, today." Minerva wasn't too sure what to say but felt compelled to comment.

"Really?" replied Harry. He had not yet seen the paper, needing all of his fingers unbroken to spread jelly on his toast. Hermione would be done soon enough.

"Yes," continued Minerva. "Several, actually. It would seem that they all have to do with Voldemort, Death Eaters, a former hag headmistress and your opinions on their, shall we say, foibles."

"Yes," said Harry. "Well, most people only hear about the bad side of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. I wanted to let everyone know that they are human, too. I'm certain that Voldemort's big enough to let people see his feminine side, once in a while."

"Aren't you worried about his reaction to this sort of libel?" asked McGonagall.

"What's he going to do?" asked Harry; "hunt me down and kill me?" He chuckled a bit at the gallows humor. "Besides, he has a new hobby, now."

"And what is that?" asked Minerva, not sure she wanted to know.

"Rat catcher," said Harry.

"For your sake, I hope that's the case," said McGonagall. She walked off to finish breakfast.

Turning to Hermione, who had just set down her paper, Harry asked, "Did they put in all of our clues?"

Hermione took a sip from her pumpkin juice before answering. "Most of them," she said. "Surprisingly, they had the nerve to include your reference to pink knickers but edited out the clue about the fortress being somewhere to the north and just said it was an undisclosed location."

"That'll be enough for Tommy," said Harry. He picked up the paper. The headline was 'High Level Death Eater Turns Rat'. There was a picture of the four of them smiling and waving under the headline. This main article was a straight news story about the various raids and what went right and wrong at each. It incorporated what was already known with the new perspective that was gained during yesterday's interview. Harry was glad to see that the paper cut the Minister a little more slack than it had before, believing Harry's fabrication that a simple communication error caused the wrong number of aurors to be sent to Azkaban.

Underneath the main section were articles titled 'What You Never Knew About You-Know-Who?' and 'Twisted Perverts Find True Love'. Both of these masterpieces of fabrication were classic Rita Skeeter. She had taken the few bits of arguably over-the-top statements made by Tonks and Remus concerning their alter-ego's disturbing relationship and made them the most reasonable parts of articles that included, among other things, tips for witches on using pomade to achieve the perfect handlebar mustache. A picture of Peter and Dolores kissing was centered between these stories with a promise of full color pictures in the Sunday Prophet.

"I think you might have gone too far, this time," said Dougal. He and Luna had just finished their copy of the Prophet. Luna, having had a weekly dose of the Quibbler for several years, hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary and had moved on to the crossword puzzle. Dougal, though, had a more realistic view of how such a personal attack on Voldemort might be received.

"That's sort of the point," whispered Harry, careful to check to see if any unauthorized eavesdropping was occurring. "We wanted to force his hand before his men are ready."

"Be careful what you wish for," said Dougal, quietly. "If he figures out that it was all your idea and that you had impostors portraying that Death Eater and Umbridge, he'll come down on you like a ton of bricks."

"We still have a few tricks up our sleeves," replied Hermione. "Even if he does figure it out, which wouldn't surprise me, he really has no choice but to believe that we have a northern fortress. After all, he sent forty men besides Wormtail up there and none returned. Also, the arms are still there so he would track them to the far north. Even if he wanted to do more reconnaissance, it's permanently dark there, now. I think he can get as mad as he wants at us and it really won't matter all that much."

Dougal shrugged and said, "You might be right. However, he does have one other place where he knows you can be found." He spun his finger around, indicating Hogwarts, in general.

"That may be his option of last resort," said Harry. "Personally, I think that he will spend most of his time, in the near future at least, analyzing all three attacks and try to determine how to avoid such heavy losses in the future. He only has a limited supply of experienced, truly committed Death Eaters and will not want to waste them as much as in the past."

"I hope you're right," said Dougal. He and Luna got up and headed outside to enjoy the morning.

Harry and Hermione continued with their breakfast, eventually noting that, with the exception of Luna and her boyfriend, none of their usual bench mates seemed to be present.

"I wonder where everyone could be," asked Harry, looking around in case they had all, for no reason and without warning, decided to sit at another table.

"Perhaps they didn't want to be too near when Voldemort bursts in and rips your lying tongue out of your head," offered Hermione, reasonably.

Harry started to make a witty comeback but was sidetracked by a thought. He had a proud smile on his face as he looked back at a confused Hermione.

"What's the matter?" she asked. When Harry smiled for no apparent reason, it was reasonable to assume something bad was about to happen.

"Nothing's the matter," replied Harry. "It occurred to me that if they actually did think that Voldemort was coming, they would be here with us."

Hermione thought about that for a second and then she, like Harry, smiled. It was good to have friends like that. "I think it's good that we are showing them how much we appreciate them, then," she said. "Do you think we should check in with Winky and see how things are going?"

"Sure," agreed Harry. "Let's drop off a couple of newspapers to our 'special guests', first." Harry and Hermione found a secluded spot behind a suit of armor and apparated into the office of the Fortress.

Although it was Saturday and she wasn't on duty, Martha was in the main office.

"Good morning," said Martha to the both of them. "Did you two enjoy your last meal?" She had a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand and a somewhat disapproving but resigned expression on her face.

"Of course," said Harry. "We had waffles today. Anything covered in syrup is enjoyable in my book." He looked at Hermione and smiled, wickedly.

Hermione did not blush, but she did say, "If you'd like for me to be sweeter than I am, that isn't the way, Potter."

"I don't know," mused Martha. "Maybe you should give it a chance. You seem to take your responsibility for being the anchor to this loose cannon a bit seriously."

"Maybe," conceded Hermione. "I don't have a chance when he gets together with his compatriots, though." She held up the newspaper as proof.

"I didn't think the intimate details sounded like they had been approved by you," said Martha. "Why did you take that tact in the first place?"

"The purpose was to incite Voldemort into pushing his newly released Death Eaters into service before they were ready and to also misdirect him to the most distant and inhospitable place on Earth," explained Harry. "He has little choice but to believe we are mocking him from a place of security and strength. Without this little exercise," he tapped Hermione's paper, "he might have just tried to ignore us and go after more vulnerable people."

"You two amaze me," said Martha. "Actually, all of you do. Most of the wizarding world is still afraid to say Voldemort's name out loud and you lot are out actively taunting him. If this were a contest of nerves, you'd win hands down."

"It is a contest of nerves," said Hermione. "Voldemort is powerful but he can't win alone. If we can show people that you don't have to be afraid of him and if we continue to kill or capture those who help him, he will be much less effective than last time."

"Does this party you're throwing have anything to do with this?" asked Martha.

"Not really," said Harry, "except to illustrate that you can't shut down your life just because a lunatic is out there trying to take over. It will be doubly effective since it is so public and he won't dare strike."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Martha. "Perhaps such a large group of students and aurors would be an irresistible temptation."

"We're just guessing," answered Hermione, "but if he had any observers during the attack on us at Umbridge's house, he would have at least found out that there were some very effective individuals in red robes that he would have to deal with. We've asked Slider and his team to guard the perimeter during the festivities."

"And," added Harry, "since it is the Hogwarts grounds we are talking about, the regular elves would also be available to repel any sort of an attack. If that happened, I would pity the Death Eaters. We spend most of our time during training class trying to get the commandos to tone it down."

"And finally," said Hermione, "my idiot husband forgot to do anything until the last moment. Voldemort wouldn't have had time to plan anything. I think we're safe, for today."

"I hope so," said Martha. "Oliver and I are both looking forward to a relaxing day in the sun."

"Is Wood going to the party with you?" asked Harry to buy time to analyze whether or not that would be a good idea.

"Sure," said Martha. "His former status as a Death Eater is not public knowledge so even if someone did recognize him, they would think he was here as your guest and not give it a second thought."

"I hope you have a wonderful day," said Hermione. She had agreed with Martha's thoughts on the subject and decided to head off Harry; just in case.

"Me, too," said Harry. "Just a bit of advice. If Oliver starts talking quidditch, just slap him until he stops. Believe me; it's the only way." Martha and Hermione both laughed at this but Harry wasn't sure whether or not he was joking. He grabbed a few Prophets off of the stack they had delivered every day and headed out into the main cell area with Hermione following at a respectful distance behind. Or maybe she had just started a moment after he had and had not yet caught up.

They walked on in silence, as usual, and passed through the snake door. Harry noticed as they neared Wormtail's cell that it was Jumper's turn to guard him. He was distracted by a dull thump and turned to see Greyback standing by the front of his cell. He had apparently hit it to attract Harry's attention. Harry activated the sound.

"Good morning, Fenrir," said Harry. He decided to continue the familiar and friendly approach that they had begun during their first meeting. Something about Greyback had indicated to him that despite being a vicious, vile, amoral murderer, he was someone who might be useful, someday.

"Morning, Harry," said Fenrir, genially. "Trying to raise a bit of money?" He gestured towards the papers in Harry's hand.

"Free samples, today," said Harry, "but only to good boys and girls." He held up a paper and looked appraisingly at Greyback before smiling and putting it back on his stack.

"I'll have you know, I haven't torn out anyone's throat for almost a week, Potter," said the werewolf.

"I suppose that qualifies, then," said Harry. "Jumper, could you come here please?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper. He hadn't bothered walking the forty feet and just apparated next to Harry and Hermione.

"Could you please give this to Mr. Greyback?" he asked with mock politeness towards his prisoner.

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Jumper and, taking the paper, he popped into Greyback's cell and back again before Greyback could even turn around. The paper was laying neatly on his bed.

"Thank you, Jumper," said Harry and Jumper returned to his post. To Greyback, he said, "I think you'll find that enlightening."

Greyback glanced at the headlines and laughed. "I think I might, Harry."

Harry restored the silencing charm as Greyback sat down to read the paper.

"You seem to be getting pretty friendly with that animal," noted Hermione. She didn't look too happy about it, either.

"I don't understand it, myself," admitted Harry. "I just feel that he'll have a part to play in this somewhere. At this point, at least, it doesn't hurt to keep the door open." He shrugged and they walked the rest of the way to see Wormtail. Pettigrew watched their approach but did not show his earlier eagerness to talk with them. He sat on his bed and waited.

"Jumper," asked Harry, "have you had any trouble with the prisoner?"

"No, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "He is being quiet and not talking or doing anything."

Harry activated the sound on the cell and said, "Have you had enough time to evaluate your situation and decided to play it smart and cooperate, Wormtail?"

Wormtail looked at Harry but did not speak or stand.

"As you have no doubt figured out, Peter," said Harry, "you have no real incentive to help me. You know that I will never trust you but doubt that I will further harm you. This is more than could be said for Voldemort if he destroys me and you are all released. He would soon learn which of my captives cooperated and dole out appropriate punishment. Your best course would seem to be remaining loyal and wait."

Wormtail didn't respond at first but eventually he shrugged and nodded his head.

"I won't lie to you, Peter," said Harry. "I need your help. You traveled to Albania and found Voldemort. You took care of him when he was attempting to get his body back. You performed the ritual that brought him back. I need to know what you know. Unfortunately, as I have just explained, it is not in your interest to see me win. Things have changed, though. Allow me to offer a token of my faith in your eventual willingness to help me." He drew his wand and then paused. "Are you right or left handed?"

Wormtail was stunned for a moment before raising his right arm.

"Hold still," commanded Harry and he summoned and then attached a new right hand for the rat. "Let this be a sign that you will be rewarded for your assistance. Now, as to the reason you don't want Voldemort to find you..." He handed a paper to Jumper and asked him to play paperboy, again.

After Jumper had left the paper on Wormtail's bed and Pettigrew had time to read the headlines and turn pale, Harry said, "I'll let you read that and give you some time to rethink your position. We'll talk later." Harry reinstated the silencing charm.

Without looking back, Harry and Hermione walked over to Umbridge's cell. She had certainly looked better.

Harry activated the sound and said, "I have some good news, Dolores. You'll be getting out of this cell for a while and may possibly see the Minister of Magic."

Umbridge perked right up and went directly into arrogant mode. "I'm sure that he will be very interested in how I've been treated. You'll be lucky if you ever get out of Azkaban."

"No doubt," agreed Harry. "I do have a little bad news, though." He held up the back of his hand to show her the faded scars spelling out 'I must not tell lies.' "I'm afraid I didn't learn my lesson." With that, he popped into her cell and dropped a paper on her bed. With a wave, he popped back to Hermione.

Umbridge looked at the paper and, at first, didn't notice anything that concerned her. After a few moments, however, she noticed the picture of her and Wormtail kissing. She glanced through the article before looking back at Harry, aghast. Harry said, "I'll see you at the party," and reinstated the silencing spell.

Umbridge looked first to Harry, then the paper, back to Harry, across the hall to Wormtail and finally back to Harry. She didn't look like she was going to get that expression off of her face for a while so they left.

As it was now after nine o'clock, breakfast was over. Being a Saturday, and a nice one at that, Harry and Hermione had no idea where Ron and Honey could be. Rather than search the whole of Hogwarts and it's grounds, Harry decided to cheat and ask Winky. "Winky," he said in his normal summoning voice, "please come here." He was surprised that there was not the usual immediate response. Looking confusedly at Hermione, he was about to call again when a very overwrought Winky appeared before them. She had two clipboards in her hand, a pencil over each ear, a large money bag over her shoulder and an impatient look on her face. She also appeared to be covered in flour and other food related detritus.

"What?" she asked, curtly and succinctly.

Harry was too shocked to speak so Hermione asked, "Do you know where Ron and Honey are, Winky?"

"They is being in Mistress Honey's rooms," said Winky. "Is Master or Mistress needing anything else?" She said all of this as quickly as she could.

"Well, uh, I...," said Harry, confused. He was sure he heard a 'Humph' and she popped away.

"What in the world have we done?" asked Hermione. She looked at Harry knowingly as if expecting him to understand. Her unfounded optimism has already been documented so it will not be restated here.

"I was wondering the same thing," said Harry. He hoped that the vague response would prevent Hermione from suspecting his total cluelessness while encouraging her to elaborate on her own perceptions.

"I suppose that we should go see what the damage is after we check on Ron," said Hermione. She looked at Harry with resignation all over her face.

"I suppose you're right," said Harry. He offered her his arm and they popped to Honey's front door.

"Good morning, Hermione; good morning Harry," said Honey when she let them in. "You remember my parents, Luke and Nesta." They followed her to her dining table where Ron and her parents were sitting, each reading a section of the Daily Prophet. They greeted the new arrivals cordially.

"We noticed you weren't in the Great Hall," commented Hermione. "We wondered what was up." She sat next to Ron and briefly grasped his hand in greeting.

Smiling at Hermione, Ron indicated the front page of the Prophet and gave her the thumbs up.

"Yes," agreed Hermione, "it worked out about as good as we could have hoped." She paused a moment before adding, "Of course, the other three idiots with me couldn't leave well enough alone and had to ad lib all of that nonsense about certain proclivities of the wizard who already wants us dead." She sighed and summed up with, "I suppose Harry's right; he won't be able to ramp it up much more than he already has. At least I hope not."

Ron scribbled a note and handed it to her.

Hermione read, 'I meant that it was a nice picture.' Glancing at Ron with a whithering look, she said, "Yes, it's lovely. We're having it framed and hung in our sitting room." The main front page photo was of Harry, Hermione, Wormtail and Umbridge with their arms around each other's shoulders, smiling broadly for the camera. The subjects were currently doing a chorus line style kicking routine.

"Well, I certainly don't understand why in the world you'd want to go and ask for trouble from You-Know-Who," said Nesta.

"He deserves a little grief for hurting Ron," said Harry. "Besides, we can take care of ourselves, for the most part. Also, if he's busy trying to find us instead of hurting innocent people or planning major battles, everyone benefits."

"Why can't he find you?" asked Luke. "It would seem that he just needs to come to Hogwarts and there you are." He then added, "Thanks, by the way, for allowing us to attend your party. We were coming anyway, of course, after Honey owled us about Ron's injury and their engagement."

"You're very welcome," said Harry. "It's becoming quite the all-purpose event. Ron's family is having a reunion today, as well. To answer your question, the wards of the school protect it against many things including armed invasion and the house elves are not that easy to get past, either. We also have other locations where he might try to find us but he will not be able to know specifically when we will be anywhere. He had his best chance when Ron was hurt. We were caught unawares but I don't intend to let that happen again."

"You'd better believe it won't happen again," said Honey. "I don't think any of you should leave the school without at least two of your 'commandos'."

"I'll admit that they would have been useful but we aren't dragging two house elves around with us everywhere we go," stated Harry.

"I agree," said Hermione," with Honey." At Harry's look, she explained. "We were very lucky to have survived, Harry. If Slider, and more importantly, Winky, took just a few more seconds to arrive, we would all be dead. There is no reason to not have a guard. Despite agreeing with you that it's unlikely that Voldemort will have the ability to hate us more than he already does, I don't want to underestimate his resourcefulness. He was willing to sacrifice one man just to try to prevent our escape. The floo was shut down immediately so the assassin was also expendable. I'd feel safer if we took Honey's advice and had a couple of the Hogwarts Free Elves accompany us on our future outings."

Harry looked at Ron and said, "I suppose if our wives both agree on this, we'd be fools to argue."

Ron wrote 'What do you mean by 'our' wives? There aren't any chains on me, yet.'

"I think you might want to rephrase that," said Honey. "Otherwise 'bath time' won't be quite as much fun, tomorrow."

Ron flipped back a few pages in his notepad and crossed out a couple of words and wrote some others. He handed it to Honey.

Honey read out loud, "Honey! Watch what you say. Your mum's in the room." Honey turned around in shock and saw her dad looking a bit grumpy but her mum was smirking, knowingly.

"Oh, Honey," said Nesta. "You've always been too honest and free with your comments. When you showed us your room you said it was 'our' room. You've also been talking about 'our' flat, and how 'we' had overslept this morning and just about everything else you've said or done." She smiled at her daughter and added, "Under the circumstances, I think Dad and I both understand."

"I'll understand a lot more when I can at least see a ring on your finger," said Luke. He, like all fathers, would see her as his little girl until she had a little boy or girl of her own to replace her. He would also prefer it if it happened at least nine months after she was married.

"That might take a while, Dad," said Honey. "Ron is still in school, after all. He's also currently working for free so a ring might be out of the question."

"Ron is not working for free," said Harry. "I pay Remus and Martha for their work and Ron is at least as important to our task as they are. I'm sure he could buy you any ring you wanted, today."

Ron had turned pale at the thought of rushing out to buy a ring. He was saved, as it turned out, by the woman he loved.

"Actually," said Honey, "I've always wanted a; well, I don't know if 'used' is the right word. Let's say I'd like an 'experienced' ring. I want to be able to wonder and imagine about the other women who wore it and what their lives were like. It might take us a while to find that sort of a ring."

"Well, my ring is old," said Nesta. "It was my grandmother's. You could have that one, if you want."

"That's not the same thing, Mum," said Honey. Those types of rings should jump a generation. You received it from your grandmother and should give it to your granddaughter, when she gets engaged."

Ron went from pale to white. He was just seventeen, for heaven's sake, and his wife; no, wait! His fianceé was discussing the marriage of his daughter.

"Maybe I can help," said Hermione, shocking everyone. "I happen to be co-owner of several rings that might be acceptable."

"You're co-owner of some rings?" asked Harry. "I never knew that."

"Yes, you did," said Hermione. "You just don't remember that you're the other co-owner." She waited for his blank stare. She didn't have to wait long.

Harry looked from Hermione to Ron. Ron shrugged. Harry then said, "So where did we acquire these rings?"

"When you went to Gringott's from the Hogwarts Express last spring, you had them itemize the jewelry in both your parents' and Sirius' vaults. You glanced at the list when it arrived and put it in your sitting room table drawer. Unless I miss my guess, you've never given it another thought."

Harry had absolutely no memory of that incident but decided to tactically change the direction of the conversation. "So, Honey," he said. "Would you like to see these rings?"

Honey looked unsure. "I don't know, Harry. I suppose we could look at them." She looked at her parents and Ron before saying, "I just don't know if it would be right. Those are Hermione's rings, after all. If we do buy one, I'd want to make sure that she wouldn't miss it."

Hermione said, "I've never seen any of them. Besides, I already have a pretty nice ring." She held up her five carat stunner.

"And who said anything about buying the ring?" asked Harry. "They're just gathering dust, right now. Find what you like and it's yours."

Ron wrote out 'We can't do that, Harry.'

"I'll tell you what, Ron," said Harry. "You help me destroy Voldemort and the ring is yours. Fair enough?"

Ron thought for a moment before shrugging again and nodding his head. He smiled at Honey who also looked pleased.

Hermione, remembering their earlier encounter with Winky said, "Maybe we should use Slinky for this assignment, Harry."

"I think you might be right," agreed Harry. "Slinky, please come here."

"What is Master needing for Slinky to be doing?" asked Slinky.

Harry jotted down a note while saying, "Please take this note to Gringott's. They will give you some jewelry. I'd like for you to bring it back here, please." He handed her the note.

"Yes, Master," said Slinky and she popped away.

"Between the Blacks and the Potters," said Harry, "there ought to be a couple of old rings that you'll like." He looked at Honey and asked, "Have you two figured out a date, yet?"

Honey looked at Ron with a mixed expression of concern and pride. "Well," she said, checking to make sure that Ron didn't object, "we were just discussing that late last night, oddly enough. Ron said..." She started to cry while smiling broadly.

"You don't have to tell us," said Nesta, hugging her daughter. Honey sniffed and quickly regained her composure.

"That's all right," she said. "Ron said that we could get married when he could stand next to me and say 'I do'." She went over and hugged Ron.

"I'll put ten galleons on 'before Christmas'," said Harry.

"I won't take that bet," said Luke. "Ron has just given himself the best incentive he could to begin his recovery. Of course, Honey won't allow him to take it easy, either."

"You bet I won't," said Honey. Looking directly at Ron, she said, "Enjoy the party today because tomorrow we start your therapy."

Ron spun the dial and brought up a card that he had apparently written after the initial session. He held it up and everyone read 'Yes, dear.'

Not wishing to bother an elf for wheelchair transport when unnecessary, the six of them walked (or rolled) down the hallway to the back entrance and out towards the greenhouses. It had turned into a fine fall day, all things considered, but Harry and Hermione had ulterior motives for this walk. Winky's agitation and physical appearance had inspired the Potters to investigate their cause. As they rounded the last outcropping of the castle before the greenhouses, however, the sights that awaited them were totally surprising, on several levels.

The rolling field past the greenhouses was dominated by a huge open-sided gold and white striped tent pavilion. Red banners flowed from the multitude of poles supporting the massive structure while numerous wizards, witches and house elves scurried here and there setting up booths, tables, grills, barrels, portable toilets, smaller tents and awnings, several platforms and stages of various sizes and shapes and, possibly oddest of all, two staircases that rose forty or fifty feet into the air towards, but not touching by several feet, each other.

The flurry of activity was counterbalanced as they panned to the left and saw Petunia's greenhouse. They could see that she was working diligently inside but two figures reclined lazily just outside the door. A beach umbrella shaded the pair, who at first glance seemed to be attempting to make the most of a spectacular day. They were casually watching the turmoil taking shape before them. Between them sat a table with a stack of sandwiches and several bottles of butter beer and mead.

Harry and Hermione decided to investigate this odd site as it was the closest. As their party advanced, it wasn't the slackers in front who noticed their approach but the woman in the greenhouse. She put down the pot in her hands and walked outside.

"Good morning," she said, tiredly, causing both Vernon and Kreacher to look over their shoulders. "Do you know what's going on, here?" She gestured towards the mayhem to the north.

"Good morning," said Hermione. "We're having a combination party in honor of the birthday today of two friends, our own wedding and the engagement of Ron and Honey." She indicated Ron and Honey as she spoke. "Oh, excuse me. This is Ron Weasley and Honey Sweetwater, and Luke and Nesta Sweetwater; Honey's parents, of course. Everyone, this is Vernon and Petunia Dursley; Harry's aunt and uncle." Vernon had enough manners to rise and acknowledge the introduction.

Ron held up his 'Hello' sign. This seemed to take the Dursleys by surprise. Aunt Petunia had enough wits to say, "Hello." She then thought a bit and added, "I believe that we've met before," to Ron. She looked towards Harry and Hermione as if to confirm this when she noticed Hermione's patch.

"My goodness," she said. "It looks like you've all been in some sort of an accident or something."

"A battle, actually," corrected Harry. "Wednesday night. We were caught flat-footed and Ron was seriously injured along with Hermione but we all lived through it."

"My eye is mostly healed," said Hermione. "My patch was to come off today but I've decided to leave it until tomorrow, or at least tonight, since we'll be outside in the sun all day."

"Will Ron be alright, too?" asked Petunia. She was discretely examining his head wounds.

"Eventually," said Honey. "As you can see, his head took a beating but we have high hopes that he'll be able to walk and talk again." She reached down and gave Ron a comforting hug.

"I'm sure that he will," said Vernon. He decided that he liked having Petunia doing the talking for the two of them less than talking to magic people. Normally, he would inject some sort of a slam on their unnaturalness but even he wouldn't verbally assault a man newly confined to a wheelchair. Maybe in a month or so.

"Well, we also certainly hope so," said Luke. "Ron seems like such a nice young man. They do, of course, hope for at least a partial recovery by the time they get married."

"That would probably make the honeymoon a lot more fun, I suppose," said Hermione.

"We manage," said Honey, again forgetting who might overhear.

"I saw you working in the greenhouse," said Luke to Petunia, trying to change the subject. "I've been told that you're both muggles but it seems that you've found the one area where our worlds intersect."

"I have?" asked Petunia, perplexed. "I'm not growing anything magical; just regular flowers and normal plants."

"Well, that's the point," said Luke. "I'm an herbologist by profession and there are very few plants that would, by themselves, be considered magical. It is the combination of plants and roots along with their preparation that have magical results but the plants themselves are quite similar to anything you've seen."

"I didn't know that," said Petunia.

"Oh, yes," said Luke, getting into his element. "For example, the common daisy, it's roots to be precise, is used when making the shrinking potion."

"But I've planted daisies," said Petunia, alarmed. "I won't shrink if I do something wrong, will I?"

Luke laughed and said, "Of course not. You've grown daisies before, haven't you?"

"Many times," said Petunia.

"They're just flowers," said Luke. "You have to properly prepare them and then mix them with a variety of other plants or minerals in a specific way to get usable results. Why don't you show me what you have and I'll let you know if anything would be potentially hazardous to you."

Luke and Petunia left for the greenhouse.

"They could be hours," said Nesta. "Luke gets lost quite often when he's in his own little world. We could go on, if you wanted to." She looked at Honey for a reply.

Honey said, "What do you think, Ron? Would you like to look around a bit or wait until the party starts?"

Ron wrote, "I'd rather wait and just enjoy it." He looked like he was getting a bit tired. This was his first excursion outside since he was injured and the shaking of his chair over the rough terrain was quite uncomfortable.

"What do you think, Harry?" asked Nesta. This party was, after all, his show.

Harry looked out across the field, trying to find Winky. It seemed that he saw her briefly from time to time, giving orders or advice but by the time he thought he was sure it was her, she looked this way or that and was gone with a pop. He decided that she had everything under control and his presence would only disrupt her rhythm.

"I can wait, I guess," said Harry. He turned back towards the others, waiting for their suggestion on the next destination.

"It's almost lunchtime, anyway," said Hermione. "It looks like Uncle Vernon and Kreacher are set but the rest of us should have a light meal to hold us over until the party. We could go to either the Great Hall or have it delivered to Honey's rooms."

"That sounds lovely," said Nesta. She turned to Vernon who had sat back down next to Kreacher and asked, "Could you please let Luke know that we've gone back to Honey's room, when he gets done?" Vernon nodded curtly but did not respond with words of farewell or any other type. He was getting a bit back into character after all of the pleasantries.

On the way back in, they ran into Ginny and Neville. Ginny let go of Neville and gave Ron a hug.

"Good morning, big brother," she said, releasing him. Ron waved in response.

"Good morning, Ginny," said Harry. "We missed you two at breakfast."

Ginny sighed and said, "Mr. Embodiment of Gryffindor Courage, here, is petrified about meeting my family."

Harry looked surprised and said, "You've already met most of them, Neville. What's the problem?"

"I'm not afraid of them," said Neville. "It's just when they all get together, it can be a bit daunting." He frowned at Ginny for making him look the coward.

"I know what you mean," said Hermione. "I'm an only child like you and Harry and the first time I visited that madhouse..." She shuddered. "Let's just say it was an experience. They're all quite nice, in their own psychotic way."

"Thanks, I think," said Ginny. "See, Neville? Nothing to worry about. We're all crazy but in a good way."

"An excellent summary," said Harry.

"Quite," agreed Honey. "I've already met Molly and Arthur. Let's see, there was one other brother and his wife who joined us for dinner. Who was that again, Hermione?"

"Percy and Penelope," said Hermione. "There's also Fred and George; they're twins. Then we have Bill, who's married to Fleur and then there's Charlie." She looked at Ginny and asked, "Did I leave anyone out?"

"I'm not sure," said Ginny. "It's confusing when you do them out of order." She thought a second and then said, "That's all of us, for now. I think that if we don't start having a few grandchildren to toss her way, Mum might start another batch." She looked at Ron and Honey and added, "I suppose Bill and Percy will have to provide a few since it'll probably be a while before the two of you can start to contribute."

"I'll have you know that everything in that department is working quite well, thank you," said Honey.

"I was talking about it being a while before you and Ron are married," said Ginny with a smirk. "What did you think I meant?"

"Why don't you introduce me to you friends?" suggested Nesta, trying to remind her daughter that her mother was still nearby.

"Friends?" asked Honey, vacantly. She then recovered and said, "Oh, well the red-headed vixen is Ron's sister, Ginny. The poor sod next to her is her boyfriend, Neville Longbottom. Neville; Ginny; this is my mother, Nesta."

"Pleased to meet you, Nesta," said Ginny, taking her hand.

"Me, too, Mrs. Sweetwater," said Neville, not comfortable with becoming too familiar with the mother of his professor.

"We were just heading back to Honey's place for a light lunch," said Nesta. "Would you like to join us?"

"Can't," said Ginny. "There's a rumor that Umbridge will be in the dunk tank and I want to loosen up my throwing arm."

"It's a sickle a throw," said Harry. "Do you have enough money?"

"I have twenty galleons," said Ginny. "When that's gone, I'll make a deal with Neville for some more, if I have to."

"The official story is that it's someone we hired to impersonate Umbridge," reminded Hermione. "We don't want everyone and their brother hexing her."

"We don't?" asked Harry.

"No, we don't," affirmed Hermione. "It would be wrong."

"How about ice in the tank?" asked Ginny.

"Well, I'm not a fanatic," said Hermione, shrugging.

Laughing, they parted company.

As they were walking up the staff corridor, Harry asked, "So what does everyone want? I can have Slinky bring..."

"What is Master needing?" asked Slinky, predictably.

"We were just discussing that," said Harry, not breaking stride. "Do you have anything that needs to be used up that would make a nice light meal?"

"Winky could be making Master and his friends a fruit salad," suggested Winky.

Harry thought about it a moment and said, "That would be fine with me. There'll be enough meat later on, I suppose."

At the murmured acknowledgments of agreement from his companions, Harry sent Slinky off to prepare their meal.

When they entered Honey's suite, everyone stopped still and stared at each other. Honey, the official occupant of the place walked forward to examine the stacks of boxes and bags littering her dining room table. Ranging in size from the dimension of a muffin through some quite similar to a shoe box, made of anything from cardboard to mahogany, they realized they were looking at the combined cache of jewelry from centuries of acquisition of the Potter and Black families.

"Good, they're here," said Harry, breaking the spell. "We can look through them over lunch and maybe Honey and Ron will find something they like." Ron, as the only other male in the room, came around fairly smoothly but the women were not done being shocked. Harry walked up to the table and flipped open an ebony box to reveal a ruby and diamond necklace with matching earrings, bracelet, brooch and cocktail ring. Harry held up the box to show Ron.

"What do you think?" he asked. "It's got a bit of everything."

Ron looked at it and made a non-committal shrug. Harry set the matched set down and moved on. Ron and the women also began to view the assortment before them.

Two and a half hours later, with bowls of half-eaten fruit and jumbles of jewels clustered around them, Honey, Nesta and Hermione had narrowed down the contestants to a four carat diamond solitaire with a matching ten carat pendant; a beautiful emerald and sapphire set that included matching buttons; and ironically, the first set that Harry had picked up, oh, so very long ago. Harry and Ron had given up trying to be helpful shortly after Luke had returned and the three men had entertained themselves by playing exploding snap. It seemed that Luke used to be something of a hustler at the game.

Ron wrote down a short message on his notepad and rolled over to Honey. Handing it to her, he backed away, expectantly. Honey read the note and said, "Just a minute, Ron. We almost have this sorted out."

Ron didn't look like he wanted to wait so Harry walked over to see if he could speed up the process. He first glanced at the note and read, 'I need to use the bathroom'. Knowing full well how slow women can be with too many choices before them, he asked, "So what is the main dilemma?"

"Well," explained Hermione, "All three sets are perfect. I think we all think that the ruby and diamond set is the best but Nesta and Honey both think it matches my complexion and hair color better than Honey's. I'm not really that much into wearing jewelry that much so I could just borrow a few pieces if I needed to. I suppose that goes with everything here so we don't know what to do."

"Let me help," said Harry. He picked up the ruby set and handed it to Hermione. "I agree with them. This would look great on you and you could loan them back and forth, anyway." He then picked up the other two sets and handed them to Honey. "Here. You get both of these since Hermione got the rubies. Now help Ron before he explodes."

Honey looked at the nearly twenty-five thousand galleons of antique jewelry that Harry had just given her and decided to be gracious and just accept it. "Thanks, Harry," she said. "I guess I'd better make those brownies, then." Harry, Honey and Hermione all laughed but Ron was wheeling himself towards the bathroom.

"I'm coming," said Honey, and she rushed to help.

"They're working on some ideas so that Ron can handle everything himself," said Hermione after Honey had closed the door. "I'm sure there are some simple devices or techniques that would work just fine."

"I'm sure there are," said Nesta. "I don't think they're looking for an easier way to deal with 'bath time', though." Luke grimaced but Harry, Nesta and Hermione all laughed.

"I'd be willing to bet on...", said Harry before they were interrupted by multiple female screams

They all ran towards the door but stopped when they heard voices.

"Bloody Hell, Ron!"

"Grab a towel!"

"I don't know why you're so embarrassed. I'm your mother, after all."

"You're doing it all wrong, Ron. Didn't you give him 'the talk?', Dad?"

"Why don't we leave them to finish up?"

"The door opens 'in'. We'll have to shift towards the tub."

"Look at ze size of ze tub! It ez enormouse."

"Just a little further. I think I can reach the knob."

The door popped open and Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Penelope, Fred and George came tumbling out. The Weasleys had arrived.

Author's Note: Without getting into any details that might spoil book seven, I would like to say that there will be a couple of things coming up that will be similar to the official story. There is one scene that is eerily similar to one that is planned. I don't intend to change my story because of these similarities but just wanted to warn you. I'm not stealing the ideas. I just had them before they were published in the Deathly Hallows so no apologies for the similarities.

Another Note: This was the second chapter that started out titled "The Party" and had to be changed. The next chapter has to be the party since it is only one hour away.

Dad


	53. Chapter 53

Author's Note: I'm sorry it took so long but it is the longest chapter to date. Even so, I cut a bit out and postponed conversations I had planned. I hope to have the next chapter up soon but I hoped to do that for this one, too. I guess we'll have to see. Thanks for being patient.

Dad

Chapter 53 – The Party

October 4th, 1997

2:00 P.M.

If not for the presence of Penelope and, to a lesser extent, Fleur, you would have never known that anything potentially embarrassing had just happened. With a family as large as the Weasleys and a home as relatively small as the Burrow, it was only a matter of time before someone would inadvertently walk in on someone else. It was not usually a group activity, though.

After the casual greetings between the Weasleys and the Potters, the presence of the elder Sweetwaters was discovered. They, like Honey, had spent the last few decades in an exceedingly quiet and predictable household. Molly was able to shatter any semblance of that sort of atmosphere single-handedly. With almost her whole family joining her, bedlam could not be far away.

"Good afternoon," said Molly. "You must be Honey's parents." She tossed her bag next to a chair; claiming it, as any experienced Weasley knew, for her own.

"Yes, we are," said Luke, a bit rattled. "I'm Luke Sweetwater and this is my wife Nesta." He extended his hand and Molly warmly shook it and moved on to Nesta, shaking her hand in a manly, but friendly, manner.

"Arthur Weasley," said Arthur, taking his place in line. "I'm Ron's father, of course." He shook both of their hands, as his sons and daughters-in-law queued up.

After the initial flurry of introductions and handshakes, everything calmed back down a bit until Charlie noticed the pile of jewelry.

"Did you lot knock over Gringott's?" he asked, browsing through the boxes.

"We were just picking out an engagement ring for Honey," said Hermione. "Harry was involved, though, so it naturally got out of hand."

"I had to go to the shop to pick out Fleur's ring," said Bill. "Do you know a trusting jeweler, or something?" By his expression, he doubted that was the case.

"Actually, I do," said Harry. "This came from the Potter and Black vaults at Gringott's, though. Honey said she wanted something that had a bit of history to it and I remembered that..."

"You remembered?" exclaimed Hermione. "I believe that I was the one who..."

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "You're like a part of my soul and it's sometimes hard to tell where I end and you begin." He kissed her passionately and she readily reciprocated.

"You are the smoothest talking bald-faced liar I have ever met," said Fred.

"Just wait on that judgment," said George. "We still haven't had a chance to hear what our kid brother told his teacher to get her to agree to marry him."

"It was pretty clever," said Honey, coming through the bathroom door. "He said he wanted to marry me." Ron pulled in behind her.

"And you said 'yes'?" asked Charlie.

"No," said Honey, "but I thought it pretty loud." Everyone laughed.

"Maybe that's the trick," said Charlie. "The next time I see a stunningly beautiful woman, I'll just ask her to marry me before she comes to her senses. It worked for Bill and Ron; why not me?"

"Speaking of beautiful women," said Arthur, "where's our Ginny?"

"She's practicing her throws," said Hermione.

"Why?" asked Percy.

"You remember Dolores Umbridge?" asked Hermione.

"Do we ever!" exclaimed Fred and George, not bothering to divide their words.

"We have arranged for her to be in the dunk tank. A sickle a throw with the proceeds going to St. Mungo's," explained Hermione.

"Bill," said George, "We need to contact Gringott's."

"We want to convert the contents of our vault into sickles," added Fred.

"I've got twenty galleons on me," said Arthur, not bothering to hide his disgust for the subject of their gleeful wrath. It seemed that she was as loved at the Ministry as at Hogwarts."

Ron wrote, 'We'd better get going or the line will be a mile long.'

Arthur hit his forehead and said, "Just a minute, Ron." He pulled out an envelope from inside his robes. "I just finished up with this, this morning." He handed the envelope to Ron.

Ron opened it with Honey reading over his shoulder. Honey said, "That's great, Ron," just as Ron's face lit up.

Arthur said, "We need to find out where the carpet you were offered is located but it is actually quite easy to fly. I was allowed on my Uncle Balin's carpet at the age of seven and never had any problems."

"Wait a moment," said Harry. "Grampa said that it was you who outlawed them. If you were flying them since you were seven, how dangerous could they be?"

"The problem with flying carpets is they are too easy to fly," explained Arthur. "Unlike a broom, which will not work for muggles, a flying carpet just requires belief. If you believe it can fly, it will. Naturally, imaginative muggles have from time to time come across one with usually disastrous results. Not only was it extremely dangerous, it risked the exposure of our world. After the fifth muggle fell off in surprise in one year, action had to be taken."

Ron wrote, 'Enough of the history lesson. Let's get the rug!'

"It's up in McGonagall's office," said Harry. "Slider, please come here."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "What can Slider be doing for Harry Potter?"

"Is Headmistress McGonagall still in her office?" asked Harry.

"Mistress is walking towards the main entrance of Hogwarts, Harry Potter," said Slider.

"Could you please ask her to come back to her office, Slider?" asked Harry. "Tell her I'll meet her there."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider and he popped off.

"Mr. Weasley, Honey and Ron," said Harry. "Wait. I forgot. Uh, let's see... Sleepy, could you come here, please?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Sleepy. "What can Sleepy be doing for Harry Potter?"

"Please take Ron and his chair to Headmistress McGonagall's office," said Harry.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Sleepy. She touched both Ron and his chair and they popped away.

"Now, Mr. Weasley and Honey, grab an arm, please," said Harry. "We'll see the rest of you at the party." Arthur and Honey took an arm each and, in an instant, they had rejoined Ron in Minerva's office.

"Good afternoon," said McGonagall. "I hope this won't take too long as I was planning on attending the party this afternoon."

"Your part should only take a minute," said Harry. "Grampa suggested that Ron would be able to get around Hogwarts much better on a flying carpet than a wheelchair. He also offered to let him use his, assuming that a permit would be obtained. Mr. Weasley has secured such a permit and we are here to pick up the rug, if that would be okay with you, Headmistress."

McGonagall flicked her wand and the flying carpet, already rolled up and tied with ribbon, landed in Harry's hands. At his astonished stare, she said, "I've got a painting of Albus, too, Harry." She indicated the currently empty frame over her desk. "He told me all about it and it's fine. Personally, I'm surprised that you waited until you had the permit."

"Well, we had to wait," said Harry. "Otherwise, we'd be breaking the law."

Minerva laughed. "Oh, Harry; you are such a kidder. Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, picking up a bag that jingled when moved, "I have an appointment with Dolores." Chuckling still, she walked out the door.

Harry was dumbfounded for a moment before stating, "I'm afraid that I have to be going, too. I'm the idiot hosting this party, after all." He looked at his watch. "It's about two-thirty. I'm also supposed to be giving dragon rides starting at three. I'll see you at the party when you have this sorted out."

"It shouldn't take us too long," said Arthur, excitedly rolling the carpet out on the floor. "We'll be down in no time." Grinning like a schoolboy, he started to explain the operation to Honey and Ron.

Harry left them to it and popped down to the inside of his aunt's greenhouse. He was surprised to find no one around but assumed that she and Uncle Vernon had probably decided that hundreds of magical folk wandering about in such close proximity would be too much unnaturalness and had left for their flat.

The official start of the party was nearly thirty minutes away but you wouldn't be able to tell by looking. It seemed that nearly all of the students and staff of Hogwarts were already perusing the wares and offerings of the vendors. Upon further review, Harry noticed that there seemed to be more older wizards than could be accounted for by the staff and a great number of the children seemed to be under eleven. He then remembered his invitation to the aurors and their families. It would also not surprise him, nor trouble him, to find that half of the residents of Hogsmeade had also made the trip to the school for what would probably become the event of the year. It would also be safer than most places. Harry could see a few of the Hogwarts Free Elves at their posts on the edges of the field. Deep within the Fortress of Solitude, untiring eyes also monitored the Hogwarts map for Death Eaters.

Harry looked about for a moment before noticing what appeared to be a fire. Looking towards the sea of red, he found the designated area for the Weasley Family Reunion. Hermione was with them, of course, so he headed in their general direction. He had taken about thirty paces before he was confronted by Winky.

"Master," she said, reading a parchment. "Here is Master's assignments. Master is making a welcoming speech on Stage One at three o'clock. Master is being a dragon at the start of each hour for thirty minutes. Master is presenting cakes on Stage Three at four o'clock. Master and Mistress is dancing first dance on Stage One at eight o'clock. Master is announcing start of fireworks on Stage Four at ten o'clock." She thrust the list in his hands and popped off. Reading the list and looking at his watch, Harry continued on to the Weasleys.

Hermione saw him coming and went to meet him. She looked a bit upset but he could tell from her expression that it wasn't his fault. He looked around and, sure enough, Fred and George were missing.

"Harry," said Hermione when they were close enough to be heard over the din of the crowd, "you need to talk to the twins."

"Why do I need to talk to the twins?" asked Harry against his better judgement.

"They're acting irresponsibly," answered Hermione.

"That's their job," said Harry.

"No, it isn't," said Hermione.

"Really?" asked Harry. "They're pretty good at it for amateurs."

Hermione just looked at him and waited.

"Okay," asked Harry, "where are they?"

"Follow me," said Hermione. She led Harry past the north end of the main pavilion and into an area apparently set aside for rides and games. They walked towards a tall, glass tower. The sides seemed to be made of frosted glass near the bottom. Harry could hear George's and Fred's voices coming from the other side, apparently conversing with an elf.

"Ah, here's Harry," said Fred as soon as they turned the corner.

"Could you please confirm to Sassy, here," said George.

"That just this morning, both you and Hermione," said Fred.

"In the presence of Ginny as well as other witnesses," said George.

"Did say that it would be okay with you," said Fred.

"To have ice in the bottom of the dunk tank," concluded George.

"I seem to remember that discussion," said Harry, nodding.

"There," said Fred to Sassy. "Harry said it was fine with him."

"Harry Potter," said Sassy. "Sassy is not being able to be following orders that is hurting Mistress Umbridge."

"A little ice in the water won't hurt her, Sassy," countered Harry. "We're not talking about large pieces, are we?"

"Harry, look at the tank," said Hermione.

Harry looked around but didn't see anything that looked like any dunk tank he had seen before. Hermione indicated the glass tower next to them and suddenly Harry understood. The glass tower was the dunk tank. High at the top he could see the seat for it's main participant. The bottom, however, wasn't frosted glass; it was a fifteen foot tall mountain of crushed ice.

Harry looked back at the twins. "Okay," he began, "I agree that the crushed ice is best so that she can't hit her head on anything that will do serious damage. I do want fourteen feet of water under it. Also, she shouldn't be falling from that high, I think. I've fallen without a broom and you pick up speed fairly quickly. Sassy, could you lower the seat to fifty feet over the water?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Sassy, obviously relieved that he had seen reason.

He then walked over to the pitching area. There was a sign that said, "Dunk Umbridge. One Sickle per Throw. Money will go to support St. Mungo's."

Harry added the words "The witch in the tank has been hired to look like Umbridge so DON'T HEX HER!"

"Who's that going to fool?" said Hermione.

"It's the truth," said Harry. "I'll pay her a knut and she does look like Umbridge."

Hermione smiled and stepped back to get a better view. Sassy had lowered the seat to the required height. Hermione cast a spell at the seat and then another. At Harry's questioning look, she said, "I put a silencing spell around the seat so we don't have to hear her whining. I also put a drying charm on the seat so she will be warm and comfortable while she's sitting on it."

"That was nice of you," said George. "Maybe some tea and biscuits, as well?"

"Actually," said Hermione, "I just wanted the water to be a shock each and every time she hits it."

"I never thought of that," said Fred, grinning. "You might work out, yet."

"We start in ten minutes," said Harry. "Sassy, could you bring up Umbridge?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Sassy and popped away. A moment later, she returned.

Dolores Umbridge looked around and sighed in relief. "At last," she said. "I see you've finally regained your senses, Mr. Potter. I don't think that it will save you from Azkaban, though." Would she never catch on?

"Hold still a moment," said Hermione, examining Umbridge. She waved her wand and the pattern on her robes turned to pink and green polka dots with a purple background. Another wave and the misshapen bow in her hair became four feet wide. White face makeup with pink circles on her cheeks completed the transformation.

"That's perfect," said Fred and George, together.

"What are you doing?" asked Umbridge in disbelief.

Hermione did not answer but said, "She's ready, Sassy. Send her up."

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," said Sassy and snapped her fingers. Umbridge disappeared. Everyone looked up. They could see her sitting on the seat, apparently terrified.

"Here's a sickle," said George, handing it to Sassy. "Let's try it out." Sassy took the sickle, dropped it in a basin and handed George a quaffle. The ring was ten feet up and twenty feet away.

"Never been a chaser, before," said George but he took his shot. It hit the side of the ring a bit but went through.

"Ahhhhhh!" screamed Umbridge on the way down. Her voice was silenced when she hit the water and crushed ice. They could see she came within a few feet of the bottom but didn't seem in danger of hitting it. A second later, Sassy returned her to her seat.

Harry seemed to be pleased but Hermione thought an adjustment was necessary. "You almost missed, George. Just give me a second." She enlarged the ring about fifty percent. "Your turn, Fred."

Fred dropped in a sickle and took a throw.

"Ahhhhhh!" Splash!

"That's better," said Hermione. "Sassy," she said to the elf, "make sure that the younger kids don't miss." Thinking about that, she amended, "On second thought, make sure no one misses."

The crowds were starting to form so Harry went to check in with the other Weasleys before starting his rides.

"Hello, again," said Nesta when Harry and Hermione arrived. "Have you seen Honey and Ron, yet?"

"We left them with Ron's dad in the headmistress's office," said Hermione. "Maybe it is a bit harder to fly a carpet than Mr. Weasley remembered."

"We'll know in a moment," said Harry. He pointed towards the greenhouses; Arthur was walking towards the party, quite alone.

"Where are the children?" asked Molly, looking worried. "I hope they're alright."

"I'm sure that he wouldn't be coming to the party if everything wasn't just fine, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, smiling. "Ron's probably taking things slow until he gets the hang of it."

Just then, a crimson streak blazed around the corner of the castle and two figures, a tall redhead in front with a long-haired blond hanging on behind, barreled towards the pavilion at top speed. As they flew overhead, the crowd heard the braying of Ron's laughter interspersed with the surprisingly stereotypical cackle of witch laughter coming from Honey. Ducking to miss the hangings from the tent top, they passed through in a flash and were heading out over the forest. A sweeping curve later and they were headed back, this time a bit slower. They circled the area a bit before Honey pointed out the cluster of Weasleys. Smiling almost painfully, they came in and hovered next to their shelter. They made quite the sight.

Ron was sitting on the front edge, his long legs dangling off and swinging randomly. Honey just had her feet over the end of the carpet as she straddled Ron and clutched at his chest for support. Harry was sure that, once he properly evaluated everything, Ron would put Honey in front; strictly so that she could see better, of course.

"It is being three o'clock, Master," said Winky. "Master is to be giving his welcoming speech, now."

Harry pulled out his parchment and asked, "Where is Stage One, Winky?"

For answer, Winky held out her hand. Harry took it and they disappeared instantly. Harry was on the raised stage well before he had any idea on what to say. Winky pointed at his throat and he knew she had already amplified his voice. He decided to keep it very short and to the point.

"Welcome, everyone!" he boomed. The sound of the crowds immediately subsided. Winky apparently knew how to cast an amplification charm. "I'd like to welcome you all to our party." He thought a moment and stooped down to Winky and motioned for her to cut his mike, so to speak. After she did so, he said, "Bring Hermione, Luna, McGonagall, Ron and Honey here, please."

This was not on the schedule and Winky looked it. She was, however, bound to obey her master so off she went.

Harry cast his own sonorus charm, realizing that he had already started the speech. "There are many purposes to this party." Luna arrived, holding the hand of Dougal. "It is Luna's Birthday, so it is partly her party. Happy birthday, Luna." Luna looked moderately please and wanted to say something but Hermione arrived a moment later. "We are celebrating our marriage with all of you so it is partly our wedding reception." He stopped to kiss Hermione. During this lull, Ron and Honey appeared. "Ron and Honey have decided to make each other the happiest people on Earth and are getting married so it is partly their engagement party." This was followed by cheers. Finally, McGonagall was brought by Winky. She held a quaffle in her hand.

"Damn," said McGonagall, loud enough for many to hear. "Sorry," she said. She then turned towards the dunk tank and shouted, "It's still my turn!"

"And lastly, it is also Minerva McGonagall's birthday so it is partly her party. Happy birthday, Minerva. In case you didn't hear, it's still her turn at the dunk tank and she'd be pretty upset if anyone butted in line. Let's see; all of you must be sure to congratulate everyone as appropriate when you see them. Also, if you see a severely overworked elf, her name is Winky and she arranged everything so be sure to say thanks. I think that's all for the moment. Now, it's time for the Dragon rides."

Harry removed the sonorus charm and asked Hermione, "So where do I go, now?"

"Remember those stairs we didn't understand?" she asked.

"Sure," said Harry. "Let me guess; one is loading and one is unloading?"

"Correct," said Hermione. There's a harness that can hold sixteen at a time. Can you carry that many?"

"How the bloody hell should I know," responded Harry. "I want an elf to ride with us in case anyone falls out or anything."

"An excellent idea, Harry," said Minerva. "Thank you, by the way. This is a very nice party."

"I hope so," said Harry. "Now, Minerva; if you don't mind missing the rest of your turn at the dunk tank, you and Luna are the birthday girls so you get the first ride."

The first set of rides was memorable in that Harry was pretty much able to keep up with demand. You would think that such a rare opportunity as getting to ride a dragon would be hard to pass up but it seemed that most of the students didn't want to risk losing their chance to dunk Umbridge, even though she was advertised as just an actress. After a while, you didn't even really hear it. "Ahhhhhh!" Splash! A short pause. "Ahhhhhh!" Splash! Another pause. On and on it went.

After his first shift was over, Harry and Hermione wandered around and tried to assess what what available for activities. They were both surprised when, passing through the picnic tables set up next to the food section, they came across the Dursleys engaged in what appeared to be a lively discussion with the elder Sweetwaters. It seemed that Honey's parents looked and acted normally enough to pass as humans to the otherwise magiphobic couple. Petunia, Nesta and Luke all had normal sized portions of lamb, beef or ham with an assortment of side dishes appropriate for a barbeque while Vernon seemed to have found a roasted leg from some sort of poultry apparently based on hippogriffs. After briefly chatting a bit, during which time Petunia asked about the safety precautions in place for the dragon rides, they moved on.

Hagrid, with Fang at his side, had established his position under an awning near Madam Rosmerta's booth. From here, he could partake of most of his favorite activities without having to move around too much. Basically, he would be well supplied with food and mead. He also had an excellent view of the dragon rides. Harry had assured him that he would provide him with a personal ride tomorrow since the harness he was wearing was designed for more normally sized people.

Remus and Tonks were sitting with the aurors, conferring seriously about the events of the past week but still enjoying the opportunities and wares of the party. Tonks had told them that she had to take Remus' money bag away to keep him from spending it all, one sickle at a time.

Scrimgeour and Greta arrived around a quarter to four. He was carrying a large bottle wrapped in foil with a bow. "Good afternoon, Harry," he said approaching them. "Nice to see you, as well, Hermione."

"I'm glad you two could make it," said Harry. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little while for the next set of dragon rides, Greta."

"That's okay," said Greta. "Grampa said I could see Harry Potter first, anyway. He has the same first name as you. Do you know him?" She looked around, eagerly.

"Do you know what he looks like?" asked Hermione.

"I think he must be very big and tall," said Greta, "with a lightning bolt in each hand."

"I think you're thinking of Thor," said Hermione. "No, Harry is normal sized and the only lightning bolt he has is on his forehead."

"It's on his forehead?" asked Greta. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Sometimes," said Harry, kneeling down. "It's just a scar; see?" He pulled up his hair so she could see.

"Yes, I... You're Harry Potter!" she shouted, distracting everyone around them for a moment.

"Of course," said Harry. "I'm not big and strong or any of that other stuff. I'm just Harry."

"Although you do a pretty good 'God of Thunder' impression while you're sleeping, sometimes," said Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were when we were in Grampa's room?" asked Greta.

"I did," said Harry. "I told you I was Harry."

"I think he has you there, Greta," said Scrimgeour. "Now, if we could find the Birthday Girl, I brought her a little present." He held up the bottle.

"I'm assuming you mean Headmistress McGonagall, Minister," said Hermione. "I'd bet twenty galleons that she's not far from the dunk tank."

"The dunk tank?" asked Scrimgeour. "Why would she be there with all this going on?"

"The dunkee is Dolores Umbridge, Minister," said Harry. "Only a sickle a throw."

"I've got some change," said Scrimgeour. "That reminds me; nice article in the paper." They walked towards the recurring scream and splash.

"We thought so," said Harry. "I'm hoping it might make the homecoming of his Death Eaters a bit less encouraging if he either kills some of them in a rage or sends them off to find Wormtail. Either way, it will ruin the moment."

McGonagall was indeed waiting her turn. She saw Harry and Scrimgeour approach but didn't step out of line to greet them.

"Happy Birthday, Minerva," said Scrimgeour. He handed her the wrapped bottle and asked, "You do prefer gillywater, I believe."

"Indeed, I do, Rufus," replied McGonagall. "Hey!" she shouted to a third year. "No cutting in front." The boy returned to his place behind her. Harry noticed that hidden among the children up front was a smallish witch with thick glasses. It seemed that Professor Trelawney was also extracting her revenge.

"That crazy elf won't let me take more than ten shots in a row," grumped Minerva. "I've been through this line five times, already."

"I'm sorry about this, Minerva," said Harry, looking at his watch, "but it's time for the cakes. Since you're one of the Guests of Honor, I'm afraid that you'll have to come with us for a bit."

McGonagall looked ready to rebel but decided that she needed to find a place to put her gillywater, anyway. "Oh, alright, Potter," she said, dejectedly. "When I get back, I want twenty shots to make up for it."

They walked towards stage three, a covered area for smaller entertainment and, apparently, a place to display and serve the cakes. It currently showcased the talents of a contemporary band of younger witches singing some Scottish folk songs, mostly a cappella while dancing, but occasionally throwing in some violin or flute solos. They were taking a break so that the the cakes could be presented.

"Here is being the list of the cakes, Master," said Winky as Harry, Hermione, Scrimgeour and Greta arrived. Luna, with Dougal, of course and Ron and Honey, both sitting motionless on their carpet, were also present, as were all the other Weasleys. Harry also noticed Uncle Vernon standing near the platform with Aunt Petunia somewhat apprehensively standing nearby. He was only surprised for a moment, once he realized that there was cake to be had.

Harry read the list as the first cake was levitated out by Winky. It was a fairly smallish, considering the number of people present, four foot diameter heart-shaped masterpiece decorated in faux turnips and butterbeer corks. It said, simply, 'Happy Birthday, Mistress Luna'. Harry cast the sonorus spell and said, "The first cake we have is for our own, Luna Lovegood. If you don't know her, you are missing out on one of the hidden treats of Hogwarts. She is one of the sweetest people I know and I'm glad to have her as a friend." There was a genial round of applause. Harry had not wasted the time spent soaring around with those screaming brats on his back and was glad he was better prepared than at the opening.

Luna walked up to Harry and gave him a hug and a kiss. She said, unamplified, "I'm the lucky one, Harry. You're going to make Hermione jealous if you keep saying such nice things about me." She went over to the side where Winky had placed her cake.

The next cake was much larger. It was in the shape of Hogwarts and bore the inscription 'Happy Birthday, Headmistress Minerva'. Harry shrugged and decided that Winky was an elf, not Shakespeare. Harry said, "It is with deepest gratitude and appreciation that I now officially wish Minerva McGonagall a very happy birthday. Without her, Hogwarts would just not be the same." He then added, "There's an extra piece of cake for anyone that has the nerve to actually say, 'Happy Birthday, Minerva' to her." There was a brief spattering of laughter followed by a round of applause as McGonagall came forward to speak.

"Thank you, Harry," said the Headmistress. "Thank you all for coming, although I don't know who would be crazy enough to skip this party. I would like to point out, since no one has yet done so, that we are blessed this day with many brave aurors and their families. Please extend a round of applause for these best amongst us and welcome them to Hogwarts, properly." There was a great burst of clapping with cheers interspersed throughout the crowd. The aurors, along with their families, beamed with pride.

Winky moved McGonagall's cake next to Luna's and summoned a wedding cake. Hermione followed it out and stood next to Harry. This cake was more traditional than the one she had made for the actual wedding but it would not be the only cake served this day. There was no sentiment written on it but a small, almost perfect representation of Harry and Hermione danced on the top. Every few seconds, Hermione would hop on Harry's back and he would turn into a dragon and fly around the cake. They would then land and start to dance again. "Wow!" exclaimed Harry, examining the lifelike figures. The crowd laughed and Harry was brought to his senses. "I mean that we wish you all could have been with us when Hermione and I were married a little over a month ago. It turned out to be a pretty interesting day, all the way around." He looked back at the cake and figures and said, "You might want to save this cake for last. That is just so cool." Again, there were murmurs of agreement from those who could see clearly.

The wedding cake was levitated back to the side and an eight foot tall, three layer cake was pulled forward. Ron and Honey hovered nearby with the cake proclaiming 'Good Luck, Master Ron and His Mistress Honey' on the side. Harry thought the wording could have been better but decided that it was perfect, after all. Luke and Nesta stood nearby, along with the Weasleys. Harry said, "Could I have a show of hands of the people who didn't think they would be engaged, and soon." He looked around. Only Lavender Brown put up her hand but brought it down immediately. "I think we all wish them the best of luck." There was applause and Harry waited for the cake to be moved to the side but Winky placed it in the middle of the stage.

Winky said, "Winky is putting the girl in the cake now, Master," and waved her hand towards a nearby tent and then pointed them back towards the cake. Before Harry could ask, "Girl?", a muffled shout came from the cake.

"You crazy elf!" shouted a female voice. "The bloody cake is supposed to be hollow inside!" Harry, and probably everyone else, watched in shock and wonder as a bikini clad witch tried to push her way through the side of the huge cake. She was covered in cake and frosting but you could still get the general idea about her costume.

Harry, seized by a moment of inspired insanity, shouted, "Men of Hogwarts; that girl is in trouble! Everyone grab a fork!" With a cheer, those nearest the stage jumped up and rushed the cake.

"So tell me," asked Hermione, "exactly how did you convince Winky to turn a nice, family-oriented party into Harry and Ron's, and every other male over the age of twelve, I suspect, wildest fantasy?"

"Well," began George, "when Winky came by the shop to discuss the fireworks, she was a little fuzzy on an order she had received from Harry. She asked us what sort of a party you had before you got married."

"We didn't know it was going to be for the entire school," said Fred.

"So, assuming it was a small gathering of friends," said George.

"We explained the inner workings of a bachelor party," said Fred.

"In other words, the first type of party that came to mind that you would have before you got married," said George.

"It was a simple mistake," said Fred, hoping it would get them off the hook. In their case, of course, he was hoping to get themselves off a levicorpus.

"I see," said Hermione. "It was all a merry mix-up, was it?" Fred and George both nodded and smiled at her, encouragingly.

Hermione had good-naturedly accepted the brief participation of the buxom witch in the cake after explaining to her in no uncertain terms that the cake and frosting had better be the only things that came off of her. After that, the girl had given the requisite good luck kiss to Ron, put on a wrap and joined in the fun at the party. Honey had been okay with it, although she kept a tighter leash on Ron than normal since then. McGonagall, anxious to get back to her dunk tanking, and resigned to the fact that nothing would ever change Fred and George anyway, had also decided to let it go. Molly had started to be mad but when all of her sons and her husband came back covered in frosting, she just had to laugh.

Hermione finally said, "Oh, well. I suppose it didn't end up being too far out of line. Liberacorpus." The twins both dropped to the ground.

"But there had better not be any more surprises of that nature," warned Hermione.

"Of course not," said Fred.

"Well, not exactly the same, at least," qualified George as they scampered away.

Harry had left for his second shift of dragon rides before Hermione could comment on the rather larger than normal amount of frosting on his clothes and, even more difficult to explain, his face. He had taken Greta and the Minister with him, as well. Scrimgeour also had a bit of the incriminating confection on his clothes but he had just cause. Greta, hearing Harry's call for help, had actually rushed to aid the pretty young witch in the cake and Grampa chased after to prevent her from being trampled.

Greta had never seen an animagus transformation before and was truly dumbstruck when she watched Harry Potter, her hero and personal friend, turn into a red and gold dragon. "Oh, Grampa," she cried, climbing into her seat up front, "isn't it wonderful? I've never flown on a dragon before, have you? I hope we go way up to the top of the sky and back. Look at all the people down on the ground. Help me with this belt, Grampa. There must be a bazillion people down there. I can see the kiddie rides. Can we go there next, Grampa? Yes, it's tight, Grampa. Oh, look; we're moving. I thought we were going to fly. Aren't we... Oh, my, Grampa. Look at the size of those wings. Oh, oh, oh, I'm scared, Grampa. GRAMPA! Oh, here we go! Oh, oh, oh. Yes, Grampa. Look, we're flying! Yeah, Mr. Dragon. We're flying! Wait 'til I tell Melody about this at school. She never believes anything I tell her. Look out, Mr. Dragon! We're going to fly into that glass tower with the fat lady in it, Grampa. WE'RE GOING TO... Oh, my! That was close." Four minutes and three thousand words later, Harry and his riders came in for a landing.

At four thirty, Harry went to find Hermione, Ron and Honey. This time, Ron turned out to be the easiest to find, due mostly to the fact that they were at the Weasley family reunion and he and Honey enjoyed flying on the carpet so much. Hermione, on the other hand, could be anywhere.

"Have you two seen Hermione, lately?" asked Harry. "We were all supposed to meet with Scrimgeour to discuss this weeks attacks and our strategies for dealing with the older Death Eaters."

"I think she was over with Ginny and Neville," said Honey. "That was a bit ago, though."

Ron signaled that he and Honey would make a few passes over the crowd and try to spot her. They rose up and, to the apparent disappointment of Ron, almost immediately came back down. Hermione was now in sight and about twenty yards away and closing. She didn't look like she was going to kill him so Harry simply greeted her with a kiss. At least that was the plan.

"You can save your pucker until you clean off that frosting," she said. She might be willing to allow a little youthful indiscretion from him, to a point, but she didn't have to get it all over her jumper.

"No problem," said Harry. He began to scoop up a bit of the loose cake and frosting with his fingers and euphorically lick them clean.

"You are such a pig," said Hermione. She turned to Honey, apparently seeking some sororital commiseration. Upon viewing her reaction, however, she asked, "What?"

Honey blushed but Ron merely grinned. "Well," said Honey, currently the mandatory spokesperson for the couple, "that's almost exactly how Ron and I got cleaned up." She had, by the fact of being seated behind Ron at the time of the charge, become as covered as anyone. Now, however, she seemed to be almost completely clean.

"Almost?" asked Hermione, not really needing to be told about the difference.

"We, uh," began Honey, "well, we sort of cleaned each other up a bit."

"I see," said Hermione. Looking back at Harry, she asked, "I suppose you'd like it if I helped clean you up, as well?"

Harry stopped his eating and held out his arms to her. Hermione pulled out her wand and said, "Aquamenti." A jet of water sprayed out and hit Harry fully in the chest. As if expecting this reaction, Harry slowly turned around and began scrubbing the cake off as if he were in the shower. Hermione stopped when he was clean and compassionately dried him off.

"Thanks, I think," said Harry. "I probably couldn't have eaten it all, anyway."

"And a good thing it is that you didn't try," said Molly, coming up from behind. She hugged Harry and said, "This was such a wonderful idea, Harry. I can't remember the last time my whole family was around me." She tightened up for a second, stifling a tear or two. "I suppose you're looking for a snack or two." She led him to a table that she had stocked with her own home-cooked treats.

"I don't know why you went to all that trouble, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "Half of the food in Hogsmeade is here."

"I just wanted to make sure, dear," said Molly. "Now, help yourself." Harry gathered up a plateful of delicious snacks and began to visit with the rest of his adopted family.

"Hello, Harry," exclaimed Charlie. "That was some flight! I've worked with dragons for years but I never met any that I'd want to sit on. Wait until I tell the blokes I work with about it."

"Did you get a picture for proof?" asked Harry.

"He certainly did," said Fred, holding up his camera.

"And he can have a print for the low, low price of only ten galleons," said George.

"Perhaps you could give your brother a better discount than that," suggested Hermione.

"I suppose that would be a possibility," said Fred.

"In theory, at least," affirmed George.

"That reminds me," said Harry. "I seem to remember seeing an interesting poster of a dragon flying around the Burrow. The funny part is, I have no memory of receiving a royalty check."

"Perhaps we could do a bit better," said Fred.

"After all, what's-his-name is family," agreed George.

"So, let's see," pondered Fred, looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione. "How does free sound?"

"It sounds like you've got yourself a deal," said Charlie.

"Could you three step over here with Ron and me for a moment?" asked Honey, discreetly. She indicated Ron, sitting on his carpet which was draped loosely over the bench of a picnic table.

"Sure," said Harry and Charlie, together. Hermione didn't speak but led the way.

When they were all seated, Honey said, "Ron has a few things that he wanted to ask Charlie and Hermione." She looked at Harry and added, "You're the subject, in case you wonder why you were invited."

"Why would Ron ask Charlie and Hermione questions about me if I'm sitting right there?" asked Harry.

Ron wrote, 'Because you won't know many of the answers.' At Harry's slightly hurt look, he added, 'Reality is a harsh mistress.'

Harry laughed and said, "Okay, Ron. Let's see what the experts know about me that I don't."

It was Honey who had Ron's prepared list of questions. "First," she began, "a question for Charlie. What is the maximum speed for a dragon?"

"That depends on the dragon and it's reasons for going fast," said Charlie, unhelpfully. "On average, a well motivated dragon can usually make at least a hundred miles per hour but we only have anecdotal information about that sort of thing. As you can probably imagine, we don't usually let them loose on purpose just to do some time trials."

"There is also the fact that dragons can't fly in the usual sense of the word," added Hermione. This statement caught everyone, except Charlie, it seemed, by surprise.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. "Dragons fly quite well, thank you."

"She means that they don't fly using proper aerodynamics," said Charlie. "The wings would have to be much larger than they are in order to get the proper amount of lift."

"So how is it," asked Harry, "that dragons manage to achieve flight when you two don't seem to think they should be able to get off the ground?"

"Dragons fly because they are magical," stated Hermione. "You spend most of your time gliding through the air, when in reality, you should be flapping your butt off just to slow the impact before you hit the ground. You and the real dragons fly because you think you can. Naturally, you have to have the magic in place to back that belief up but that is how it works. For dragons, and you in your animagus form, flight is purely a function of your magical power."

"I guess that the best way to answer that question would be to get someone to chase after me on a broom and see how fast I can go," said Harry, logically.

"I didn't bring a broom but I'd like that job," said Charlie.

"Okay," said Hermione. "We'll do that tomorrow. Oh, your family is staying the night, aren't they?"

"I think so," said Charlie, "but I can't speak for everyone. I will, at the least. I wouldn't miss this for a thousand galleons."

"Next question," said Hermione to Honey.

"Well," started Honey, "we know that your clothes are incorporated into your animagus form when you change. Ron noticed that the frosting disappeared when you were a dragon but came back when you returned to being a man. We were wondering what would be the effect of changing while you were under your invisibility cloak."

For once, Hermione didn't know the answer. "I hate to admit it," said Hermione, "but I don't have a clue." Honey gasped and placed her hand over her mouth while Ron's head slammed into the table top, apparently unconscious, from the shock. Harry lept up and jumped back from her.

"Very funny," said Hermione. "There are millions of things I don't know."

Harry stepped forward and said, "Millions? Maybe 'dozens', I suppose, but not 'millions'."

"We can answer that question at the same time as we check your speed," said Hermione, ignoring Harry. "Next question, please."

"Is Harry able to talk to other dragons?" asked Honey. "We discussed this and the actual information we would need would be where the nearest place that Harry could try to talk to dragons might be."

"I've never tried to talk at all while I was a dragon," said Harry. "What makes you think that dragons talk to each other?"

"They can communicate," said Charlie, "at least to some degree. I'm not sure it's a language or just moods but they seem to get the drift."

"We'll just have to try it, I suppose," said Hermione. "I believe there are dragons in England."

"Of course, there are," said Charlie. "They're plenty of Hebridean Blacks on Muck."

"Where?" asked Honey, Hermione and Harry simultaneously.

"The island of Muck. It's near the south end of the Inner Hebrides. We can probably kill two birds with one stone. I'll fly there and Harry can follow as a dragon. The distance can be determined from any decent map so we can calculate his speed."

"That sounds like a good idea," said Harry. "We can loan you one of our firebolts."

"One of them?" asked Charlie, incredulously. "How many do you have?"

"Let's see," said Hermione. "I have one, as do Ron and Harry."

"Don't forget Ginny," said Harry. "She has one, too."

"That's four," said Hermione. "We just picked up twelve more so I guess we have sixteen, now."

Charlie looked stunned. "You're sure you didn't knock over Gringotts?" he asked. "Why would you possibly need sixteen firebolts?"

"We don't," said Hermione. "Voldemort keeps sending us presents like this. We picked up quite a few late model Numbus Series brooms and two invisibility cloaks from him this week, as well."

Charlie just looked at them for several seconds, unsure of whether or not they were putting him on. Finally, he said, "Whatever. Where shall we meet, tomorrow?"

"Where are you staying," countered Harry.

"No idea," replied Charlie. "Oy! Dad!" he shouted towards his father. Arthur and Molly both came over.

"This lot needs some dragon help tomorrow," said Charlie. "Where are we staying, tonight?"

"We were planning on returning to the Burrow," said Molly. "I should have a charge built up by then."

"I could pick you up there," offered Harry, "or we could put you up here. Whatever you want."

"If we're flying to Muck," reasoned Charlie, "I should probably stay here. It's only a hundred miles or so to the west from here."

"That's fine," said Hermione. "Winky."

"No!" shouted Harry, but too late.

"Mistress is needing something?" said Winky, popping next to her. She only had one clipboard left and the moneybag was much lighter than before but she looked even more agitated.

"I'm sorry, Winky," said Hermione. "We should have asked Slinky to take care of this."

Winky looked like she was going to say something to Hermione but changed her mind. Winky said, "Master is being giving rides in five minutes." With an annoyed 'pop', she was gone.

Hermione looked at Harry with an 'oops' sort of look before saying, "Slinky."

Slinky appeared a pair of seconds later. "Yes, Mistress," she said. "What is Mistress needing Slinky to be doing?"

"Slinky, this is Charlie Weasley. Slinky, could you set up a flat in the Fortress for him for tonight?"

"Slinky is being told by Aunt Winky that Slinky is not to be doing the work at the Fortress of Solitude since there is being bad wizards there, Mistress," said Slinky. "Slinky will be calling Aunt Winky for Mistress."

"Oh, no!" said Harry and Hermione as Winky popped into view. Winky looked around and sighed.

Harry spent part of the next half hour trying to decide which of his elves was, at that very moment, more upset with him. The bad part, of course, was he knew the answer. He pondered on how, in the mixed up world of house elves, he could show his appreciation for the herculean effort Winky had put into making this the Party of the Year. He realized, of course, that the one thing she needed the most would insult her if he even mentioned it. Somehow, though, he knew she could really, REALLY, use a vacation.

When Harry finished his shift, he quickly gathered his cohorts and went in search of Scrimgeour. They were supposed to talk today, after all. They checked the dunk tank first. Minerva told them that he had been there for only his ten shots. Greta had taken most of them as his granddaughter but he also wanted at least a little of the personal touch. Harry then remembered a portion of Greta's ramblings and they went to check out the kiddie area. It was at the broom rides that their search ended.

"Hello, at last," said Harry as they sat next to Scrimgeour. "You've led us on a merry chase." Greta was following a magically enforced figure eight course on a half-sized broomstick. She was starting to get at the upper end of the age where this activity was fun but had not quite reached that point yet, if her smile was any indication.

"It's easy," said the Minister. "Just follow a five year old girl. On behalf of Greta, I'd like to thank you for the twenty licorice wands she picked up at the Honeydukes display." He looked around and added, "Actually, I'd like to thank you on behalf of my aurors, as well. This was a tough week for them and their families. Something like this was just the ticket."

"I'm happy to be able to do something, Minister," said Harry, honestly. "For now, though, we have business to discuss. Just give me a moment to lessen the chances that we will be overheard." Harry cast the muffliato spell around their area. "First; did you bring the list of Death Eaters for Martha?"

"Martha?" asked Scrimgeour. "I have the list of Death Eaters you asked for but you didn't say anything about Martha needing it."

"Oh, sorry," said Harry. "She works for us. I probably shouldn't say any more than that to protect her identity."

"It wouldn't be Martha Murphy, would it?" asked Scrimgeour, quietly. He had a half smirk on his face suggesting that he knew quite well that he was right.

"How did you know that, Minister?" asked Hermione, just as quietly. "We are very concerned with keeping her employment quiet so as not to endanger her or her family."

"I've known Martha her whole life," said Scrimgeour. "Her dad, Minty, and I worked on more than one assignment together. Don't worry about me doing or saying anything to give her away. After you rescued her, I had to content myself with just a quick, anonymous visit with her and Merry, her brother. Like you, I didn't want to draw attention to her. Of course, she might want to stop visiting with her old friends if she was really concerned about secrecy." He indicated they should look over his left shoulder and, sure enough, about forty feet away, there was Martha, chatting away with some other auror families with Oliver sitting next to her. Wood was also doing his share of talking with some of the older boys and from his hand and body movements, Harry was sure he knew what he was talking about.

"It was probably a mistake for either of them to come to the party," said Harry. "I hope no harm comes of it."

"Harry," said Scrimgeour, "you can only take reasonable precautions to protect people, even those you care about or even love. They will still need to breathe, to visit with friends and family, to get out and about." He looked back at Martha and the young man sitting next to her. "They even need to be able to fall in love, regardless of the dangers. What you can do is not draw attention to your relationship with her. As I have said, you and I have the same problem in that regard."

"What do you mean, Minister?" asked Harry.

"We can't be too open about who we care about," replied the Minister. He indicated Ron, Honey and Hermione. "Your wife and friends are at risk, not only because they are working with you, but also because you care about them. That makes them targets; just to get at you. I'm the Minister of Magic. Before that, I was hounding Voldemort and his Death Eaters for over twenty years. During that time, I eventually became enough of a nuisance to qualify for having my wife killed. For a long time, I kept my daughter virtually locked away to keep her safe. After you defeated Voldemort as a baby, I allowed her to breathe free again, but it was too late. She hated me for protecting her. Years later, we finally made amends but when Voldemort rose again, she and her husband, a fine auror named Gary Grundle, refused to hide. I was head of the auror office at the time and an old personal foe of Voldemort. Well, you've already guessed why Greta lives with me. I won't make quite the same mistake again, though. Greta will grow up in the world, not hiding from it." He leaned back and, with a wink, added, "Of course, as Minister of Magic, I'm allowed my own security guard and I can assign them where I want. Greta is guarded very well, night and day, but the possibility exists that she, too, might be targeted. I can't help that. About all I can do is to not draw attention to her. That is what I'm trying to say, Harry."

Harry thought about what Scrimgeour had said. He looked back at Martha. He had saved her life. He felt a personal obligation to ensure that she remained safe but he realized now that that was not his responsibility. The same was true of Ron, Honey and even Hermione. "I understand, Minister," said Harry. "Soon; tomorrow, in fact; we will be confronted with just that sort of a problem. We plan on releasing our captured Death Eaters from their loyalty enchantment. At that time, we will determine who among them were innocent victims and who were willing accomplices. We have debated long and hard on what to do with those who are in our cells by no fault of their own."

"Of course," put in Hermione, "there are other things to consider besides their safety. Without going into details, if Voldemort recaptured any of them, he would probably be able to discover exactly where our fortress is located."

"That could be a problem," agreed Scrimgeour. "Which way are you leaning as to possible solutions?"

"We need to find out how many of our current prisoners are really innocent, of course," explained Hermione, "but if we get a couple dozen or so, we were thinking about asking them to join us as a separate fighting unit. That would, of course, be strictly voluntary."

"Another personal army?" asked Scrimgeour. "You're going to make me suspect that Fudge was right about you, after all."

"Well," began Harry, "they can't really go home anyway and it's not like we're holding a wand to their heads. We don't even know if anybody will be interested."

Ron held up a note that read 'Wood seemed to be okay with the idea.'

"I'm not saying that you couldn't get a few wizards to sign on," said Scrimgeour. "I'm not sure what I'm saying. I think you might be right that they won't be able to go back to their homes but it takes a long time to train enough to have a chance against a regular Death Eater. Even then..." He trailed off, the rest not needing to be said.

Ron had a thought and wrote, 'What about other things? What are fully trained aurors doing that could just as easily be done by partially trained stand-ins?'

"Oh," said Hermione. "You mean like the way we have Martha and the..., er, her team doing the maps. Oops. I shouldn't have said that, either." She turned to Harry and asked, "Can't we talk freely with the Minister, yet? He suspects most of it, anyway, and Slider was a big clue, as well."

"Let me guess," said Scrimgeour. "I think the last pieces of the puzzle just fell into place." He looked around and leaned in. Speaking softly, he said, "Martha's team is made up mostly or entirely of elves. The maps are similar to the ones you gave us but are probably better in some way. Ron's idea is to train any volunteer ex-Death Eaters to do clerical or low risk tasks so that our fully trained aurors can do their jobs."

"At least we're consistent," said Harry. "If we talk to anyone for more than five minutes, they know pretty much everything about us. So, what do you know about our fortress?" He wasn't sure what they had already mentioned about that but Scrimgeour's response might help clarify things.

"I know at least three things," said the Minister. "First; Voldemort would recognize it if he saw it in a memory. Second; it is large and secure enough to house dozens of Death Eaters, both authentic and coerced, as well as be a command center. Third; you have been trying to make it appear that it is extremely far north; perhaps as far as the North Pole, but I don't think it is there."

"What would make you think it might have been near the North Pole in the first place?" asked Hermione, trying to remember if they had mentioned that bit of information to the Minister in the past.

"We had some interesting reports from the clothing stores on Diagon Alley trickle in during the past couple of days," said Scrimgeour. "I was waiting at Azkaban with most of my aurors so we couldn't have checked on it anyway, but on the day of the attacks, some less than savory individuals were on a strange mission. Seems they were looking for heavy parkas, boots, insulated tents, that sort of thing. They were also in a hurry. Now I didn't notice any of the attackers at Azkaban wearing heavy clothing and Dawlish didn't make mention of anything along those lines in his report so I can only assume that they were for the third wave of attackers; the ones who went to your fortress. You mentioned in the paper that none of them returned so I can only assume that was some sort of a brilliant Ron Weasley trap." He looked at Hermione and amended, "Just a moment. I believe that you said it was your idea, Hermione. We were interrupted during the explanation, though."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron for permission to proceed. She had been on the verge of telling the tale once before but it was after a major attack, Ron had just been saved and they were all dead tired. In the present, she wasn't so sure of what she could reveal.

Harry, after receiving a nod from Ron, said, "Go ahead, Hermione. I'm sure we're all on the same side."

Hermione gathered her thoughts and said, "Well, Minister; I suppose I should say that we do actually have facilities near the North Pole but they are fairly limited. We've already mentioned that we have to remove the arms with the dark marks. We keep them up there."

"So when they are tracked," said Scrimgeour, "they would be led to the far north. Ingenious."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "I don't know if Voldemort will fall for that trick again, though. Even so, his tracking methods will only point in that direction so he won't be able to find us in that manner."

"So how did all of that help you capture forty or so Death Eaters?" asked Scrimgeour, getting back to the original point of the conversation.

"While we were visiting," said Hermione, "we became aware of a portkey target charm that had recently been placed about fifty miles or so away from the ice fortress. We knew at that point that we had been more or less located but that our exact position was not yet known. As we were discussing possible moves, I thought of a little known characteristic of magical travel. As you know, when you portkey or apparate, as long as the technique is sound, you land on your feet and on the ground about where you want. Many times, you will find yourself next to someone. It is a built in feature, if you will, of magical travel that you can't end up inside a wall or furniture or another person. You also won't have your feet embedded in six inches of floor, either. All of these minor positional adjustments are automatic. At a certain point, however, the effectiveness wears off. You will always be moved away from objects or people but the landing on the ground enchantment will give up at around ten or fifteen feet. Harry uses that from time to time when he apparates into the sky. There is no ground so he just pops into thin air."

"So how was this useful, Hermione?" asked Scrimgeour.

"I had Slider enchant the portkey target to hover around forty feet in the air," answered Hermione. "It is also too late in the year for any light from the sun to reach that far north and the bitter cold and wind would also be disorienting. So basically, they would..."

"They would pop in cold, blind and falling," said Scrimgeour. "Before they could do anything, they would hit the ground." He looked at Hermione and said, "You aren't so nice after all, are you?"

"I've heard," said Hermione, coldly. "It worked, though. We left the portkey target just in case Voldemort wants to try it again but I don't think he'll make the same mistake twice."

"Probably not," agreed Scrimgeour. "Still, you never know. After that article has some time to work on him, he might send a few men to check it out."

Ron wrote, 'It might be in our best interest to put it back on the ground, then. Let it be useful for a small group or two and then put it back in the air.'

"The trick with that is knowing when to put it back," said Harry. "He might surprise us and come in with a huge force too soon."

'That would not be all bad,' wrote Ron. 'Imagine you were a Death Eater and you came to rescue your mates. After fighting through the cold, dark, snow and ice, you finally enter the fortress north and all you find are the arms of Death Eaters. It might be a bit unnerving.'

Just then, Winky popped over. "It is being time for Master to be giving rides, Master," she said. She waited impatiently for Harry to make some signs of rising.

Harry got the hint and said, "You may all continue to discuss this while I'm busy." He rose and left for his fourth shift of dragon rides.

The unusual part of this particular set of rides was who was first in line. Harry suspected that the gap between the couple at the top of the stairs and the line forming a few steps below was due to the uncertainty of those witches and wizards on what the structural and magical weight limitations of the steps actually were. Harry resisted the urge to let his knees buckle while they took their seats. It was, he knew, a major step for his relatives in their advancement towards accepting their adopted world. Even so, and with the normal full load of fourteen other passengers plus the safety elf, the presence of Uncle Vernon did make it a bit harder to pull out of the dives.

When Harry completed his shift and made his final landing shortly after six-thirty, he placed his wand to his throat and said, "Sonorus. May I have your attention, please. At seven o'clock, the last series of dragon rides will commence. If you wish to participate, that will be your final chance for the day. Thank you." He then ended the spell and went to look for everyone.

Not having much hope for success, he started back where he had left everyone; at the kiddie rides. He was surprised to find everyone was still sitting at the parent's tables. Greta was now happily playing the simple, muggle game of tag with a large group of children. They appeared, to Harry at least, as if they were emulating a school of fish. The child currently designated 'It' would chase after the others, hoping to tag them. They all were trying to put this off, of course, and would retreat. Those behind would flow forwards to get a glimpse of the actual tag. When the transfer of 'itdom' was made, they would change direction and the process would start over.

"Greta seems to be having a good day," said Harry, taking a seat next to Hermione. She was working on a grilled steak dinner and was currently enjoying her baked potato.

"I'd have to say that is true for everyone," said McGonagall. Harry had not noticed her, sitting as she was on the far side of Scrimgeour.

"Hello, Minerva," said Harry, in greeting. "Have you satisfied your thirst for vengeance against Umbridge?"

Minerva said, "I've made a good start, Harry. I've decided to work on another kind of thirst for awhile." She held up a glass of gillywater. "My arm was starting to get sore, anyway." She went back to eating her fried chicken.

"It seems that I missed the official start of the feeding frenzy," said Harry, noting that he was, in fact, the only one without a plate of food in front of him.

"We wanted to wait until you returned," said Honey, "but then we changed our minds and tucked in." Ron nodded in agreement between bites. Honey's parents had also found their daughter but were, as yet, inexperienced in the younger set's banter so remained observers.

"I suppose I'd better gather up a few crumbs, then," said Harry, rising.

"Or you could thank your lucky stars that you have such a wonderful wife," said Hermione. She pulled out a fully loaded plate from under a napkin. The food was steaming since she had thoughtfully placed a heating charm on it.

"I hereby thank my lucky stars that I have such a wonderful wife," said Harry. He sat back down and seemed hesitant to start without a quick inventory.

"And for dessert," said Hermione, pulling out a veritable mountain of treacle tart and placing it in front of him.

Harry looked at the tart and then his wife. He sang, "Hermione's the lass who's won my heart; the love of my life, we'll never part. She loads up my plate with treacle tart; it looks like a lot but it's just a start."

"Must you demonstrate abilities that you didn't acquire from Fawkes in public?" asked Hermione, covering her ears.

"You like my singing when we take our bath," countered Harry.

"I tolerate your singing when we take our bath," corrected Hermione.

"Who dropped a house on you?" asked Scrimgeour. At everyone's startled looks he said, "I think Harry has a fine singing voice."

"Thank you, Rufus," said Harry. "Perhaps we'll do some duets later."

"Perhaps," said the Minister, tipping back his glass. "It depends on how far Minerva and I get on this bottle." The gillywater was mostly gone, due to the fact that two experienced drinkers were working on it.

"I've got more, Rufus," said McGonagall.

After a pause, Honey suggested, "Perhaps we should fill Harry in on what was discussed while he was flying around." She then looked at her parents and said, "I'm sorry, but as you've probably gathered, we're up to our necks in secret things. Could you please excuse us without hating me?" She looked like she was actually worried that they might do just that.

Oh, don't be silly," said Nesta. "Luke and I will visit with your new in-laws until you're done." They both rose and walked off towards the Weasley gathering.

"Well," began Hermione, "Martha and Oliver had wandered near so we brought up the possibility of people like Wood filling support roles to help out the fully trained aurors. I don't think Oliver liked the idea all that much but Martha thought it was worth offering. I think that people like Oliver would naturally tend to want to directly participate in a fight, mainly due to his missing out on quidditch. Other people, however, might prefer to offer indirect assistance as long as they weren't put in immediate danger."

"Sort of like we're doing with the elves," said Harry. "Some are helping with the maps while others are on strike teams."

"Exactly," agreed Scrimgeour. "I also know of someone who would be able to assist Sergeant Tonks with the in-depth training for helping out with the paperwork or lower risk security details."

"You do?" asked Harry. "Who?"

"Hammer," said Scrimgeour. "He retired for the same reasons as a lot of the older aurors. He was frustrated with the Ministry and the Wizengamot. Fudge cut the Corps to about half the size it needs to be. Those who were left had to deal with a Wizengamot that seemed to be more interested in finding a clerical error in an arrest report than putting evil witches and wizards in Azkaban. An organization such as yours which is, shall we say, more flexible in dealing with Death Eaters might appeal to him."

"That's an interesting comment for the Minister of Magic to make," said Harry.

"Isn't it," agreed Scrimgeour. "I'll try to have a word with him in a bit. Maybe set up a meeting for tomorrow. I believe you said that you would be able to separate the wheat from the chaff by then?"

"I'll check with Madam Pomfrey but that was the original schedule," confirmed Hermione.

Ron wrote, 'We won't really be able to know the size and composition of the ex-Death Eaters until then. Perhaps we should discuss our various strategies with dealing with Voldemort at that time.'

"I agree," said Scrimgeour. "I'm getting a bit well oiled, anyway. Perhaps I should just have a quick word with Hammer; Harry can finish his last set of rides and we can all enjoy the rest of the evening."

"That's an excellent idea," said Minerva. "I'd like to take one more ride, anyway. Would you and your granddaughter care to join me?"

"I think if I twist her arm, Greta might agree," laughed Scrimgeour. He looked at his watch and said, "I'll tell you what, Minerva; you gather up Greta and meet me at the steps a bit before six o'clock. I'll go have my chat with Hammer." With Minerva's agreement, he walked off; his limp seemingly shifting from leg to leg as he moved.

"When did Rufus become such a nice guy?" asked Harry. He remembered the icy, early days of their relationship quite clearly.

"How did he become 'Rufus'?" asked Hermione. She thought a moment and said, "I think it was because he was not much of a politician before becoming Minister of Magic. He probably thought Fudge was right, at times, and that having you on his side would help calm down a panicky public. He just wanted you on his terms. Now, he sees you as more of an ally instead of an asset. You are starting to see him the same way. In the end, you both have the same goal; bringing down Voldemort."

"I think you're on to something, dear," said Harry. He then grinned and asked, "Are you going to go on a dragon ride?"

"If you promise to take it easy. Greta's just about out of steam. She must be running purely on adrenaline by now."

Harry said, "I promise. This was supposed to be your day, too. I'll be good, just this once."

Harry was good; to a point. That point was crossed, however, after he heard Greta calling out, "Faster, Mr. Dragon. You went much faster last time. Are you tired, Mr. Dragon? You didn't look that old, to me." Harry decided that since he had a safety elf and an automatic scary detector, he would ramp things up a bit for this last ride. He flapped his wings a bit and rose about two thousand more feet before...

"Harry! Don't you dare do a power dive! Oh, Oh, Oh! OH! HARREEEEEEEEEEE!!" The detector had gone off. Harry dove at about an eighty degree angle until he was five hundred feet over the crowd; the children on his back, and some adults, screaming in delight (save one). He then pulled out and, for reasons known only to him, continued pulling out until he had finished his loop. His only hope, of course, was that she would calm down in the next half hour.

"Potter!" whispered Hermione, gently. "Just what in the bloody.."

"Didn't you see that baby duck that flew right in front of us?" asked Harry, inventing wildly. "I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to miss it." He tried to look shocked and relieved.

"You had a bloody half hour to come up with something and that's it? What's your emergency backup lie?" asked Hermione, unmoved.

Harry knew that if she could joke about it, she wasn't going to kill him. "Well, I'm trying to save that one for a greater need."

"I see," said Hermione. She walked up and kissed him. "The dance starts in a half hour. Do you need to take a break before we lead that off?"

"No, I'm fine," said Harry. He sighed. Looking around, he said, "This has turned out to be a lot bigger than I ever imagined. Do you have any ideas on how we can properly let Win..., I mean, a certain female elf that we own, know how much we appreciate her hard work?"

"It'll be tricky," said Hermione. "Did you notice how close she is to snapping?"

"How could I miss it?" asked Harry. "She needs a vacation. I'm pretty sure that she won't want one, though."

"No doubt," agreed Hermione. "Perhaps we can come up with an assignment for her that will be relaxing."

"Something like, 'Please go to the beach and read these forty books.' or 'Pet this cat for two hours a day for a week.' That sort of thing?" asked Harry.

"That might be what it takes," agreed Hermione. They had walked randomly until they found themselves next to the dunk tank.

"Hello, Sassy," said Harry. "How was business, today?" He looked in the basin and noted that it was on the verge of overflowing with sickles.

"It is being very good, Harry Potter," said Sassy. "We isn't stopping all day." She continued to take the sickles and hand out the quaffle while she talked. The cries of Umbridge had dulled to bare minimum. She was exhausted and, presumably hungry.

"That's fine," said Harry. "You can close this down at eight o'clock. Then put her back in her cell and see she has a good meal." He was on the verge of leading Hermione away when they noticed that Dougal was in line. Despite the fact that he was on the Inquisitorial Squad, it seemed that Dougal didn't have a problem with dropping their former headmistress fifty feet into a tank of freezing water. The unusual part was that Luna was not with him.

"Hello, Dougal," said Hermione as they approached. "Going to try your luck?"

"I don't think that luck has much to do with it," said Dougal. "I was watching some pretty poor shots earlier that still managed to get through the hoop. Not that I'm complaining, mind you." They all laughed.

"Where's your better half?" asked Harry. He looked around; it being so unusual for the two of them to be separated this long while not in class.

"She said she wanted to change for the dance," said Dougal. "Probably trading her turnip earrings for radishes or something."

"Well, be sure she's out on the floor for the first dance," said Hermione. "She's one of the Guests of Honor, after all."

"We'll be there," said Dougal.

"I'm jealous," said Hermione as they walked away.

"About what?" asked Harry.

"Luna's dress," replied Hermione. "This is the perfect occasion and she will be the star of the dance."

"She deserves it," said Harry. "She's been ridiculed for five years. It's about time everyone sees what a special and wonderful person she is."

"Now I'm really jealous, Mr. Sweet Talker," said Hermione. "Do you suppose Dougal's right?"

"About what?" asked Harry.

"That she'll have turnip earrings to go with her ten-thousand galleon dress?" replied Hermione.

"It didn't cost that much," said Harry. "Of course Chroma Crystals aren't exactly cheap, either."

"No, they aren't," agreed Hermione. "Harry; there was a pair of yellow sapphire earrings that weren't part of a set in with our jewelry. We haven't given Luna a present yet, unless you count the party. I was wondering if we might go back to Honey's place and pick them up, just in case."

Harry kissed her. "I love you, Hermione," he said. "Of course." He offered her his hand and they popped back to retrieve the earrings.

Hermione quickly located them and took Harry's hand again, preparing to return to the party. Before he could do so, she let go and went and retrieved a shimmering pearl necklace. "If we're going to help her with a makeover," explained Hermione, "we might as well do it right." She took his hand again and they were off.

Harry and Hermione had only waited on the castle side of the party for five minutes before they saw the shimmering image of Luna approaching out of the twilight. Her jeweled dress caught the torchlight surrounding the pavilion completely and she seemed to glow with an inner fire.

"Hello, Luna," said Harry, approaching her. "You look beautiful." He reached out and kissed her cheek. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you very much, Harry," said Luna. "This has been a wonderful day."

"We have a couple of presents for you," said Hermione. She had noted that Luna was, indeed, wearing her butterbeer cork necklace along with her radish earrings. "We thought that you might want to accent your dress with something a bit more, ah, sparkly." She didn't want to say 'better' so as not to offend her friend. She held out the sapphire earrings and pearl necklace.

"I think the yellow sapphires go perfectly with your hair," said Hermione. "The necklace is just a bit more traditional than your buttebeer corks."

Luna said, "Thank you, again." She remained silent as she changed her earrings. When it came time for he necklace, however, she hesitated.

"You don't have to use the necklace, if you don't want to," said Hermione. "We just thought you might want to 'dress up' tonight."

"I appreciate it," said Luna. "I'm just a bit sad."

"Sad?" asked Harry. "Why would you be sad, Luna? This is a happy day."

"Today was wonderful," said Luna. "I will wear the necklace." She reverently removed her necklace from around her neck and, after a moments contemplation, offered it to Harry. "Could you hold this for me, Harry? I don't have a pocket."

"Sure," said Harry, placing the corks and string in his inside robe pocket.

"Thanks," said Luna, as Hermione helped her fix the pearls. "I made that with my mother on the morning before she had her accident. I guess it always comforted me to know that I had something from the two of us with me."

Harry remained silent. He knew that if he spoke, he would be overcome with emotion. He had lost his mother, too, of course, but had nothing of hers. He would trade the contents of Honey's dining room table for a trinket like Luna's. He knew, of course, that Luna held her old necklace in just as high a regard.

"Well," said Luna, forcing a smile to her lips, "I have to grow up, sometime. I have Dougal to comfort me, now. I hope he likes how I look."

"He's not a fool," said Harry. "Just keep that smile coming. It doubles your beauty."

Luna beamed at them both. She turned and went off in search of Dougal.

"Welcome, friends," said Harry. It was eight o'clock and time for the dance to start. "It has been a wonderful day and I thank you all very much for sharing it with us." A round of applause followed, letting Harry know that the efforts were appreciated.

"Without further ado," said Harry, "I will introduce the Guests of Honor, one last time so that we may lead off the dance. Our first dance duo is Luna Lovegood and Dougal Weasley." Luna and Dougal walked out to join Harry and Hermione. There were gasps as those who hadn't yet seen her, saw Luna in her dress. Her smile was a radiant as ever. Dougal seemed to be a bit odd, though. Harry had no time to dwell on that, however.

"The other birthday girl is Minerva McGonagall and her dance partner, Rufus Scrimgeour." Minerva and Scrimgeour approached the other couples in slightly less than a straight line but made it in one piece.

"I now give you the future Ron and Honey Weasley." Laughter and applause accompanied them as Ron and Honey glided in on the carpet. For the dance, at least, they had situated themselves facing each other; Honey sitting in Ron's lap with her legs wrapped around him and his arms supporting her.

"Don't they look cozy," observed Harry. Again, more laughter and more than a few suggestive comments.

"Lastly, I will join with my wife, Hermione. Thanks for coming and let the music begin."

The band, a twenty piece big band, started up with 'Stardust'. It was, thankfully, slow enough for everyone, including the eldest principal dancers. Harry noticed that Minerva and Scrimgeour seemed to be making a team effort at holding each other up. They were, fortunately, evenly matched in height so that it was working out for them. After a few measures, the other couples who were so inclined, joined them on the dance floor and the evening melted into a slow and comfortable winding down that left everyone feeling relaxed and at peace. The fireworks at the end, although spectacular, of course, was as nothing compared to the sparkle Harry saw in his wife's eyes as they embraced, reclining against a pillar as the world spun, for tonight, at least, without them.


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54 - Meetings

October 5th, 1997

Minerva McGonagall was eating breakfast in a place last occupied by her for that purpose well over fifty years earlier; the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. She was sitting next to another Gryffindor who could make the same claim; Rufus Scrimgeour. He had business with Harry Potter and crew today and Minerva had put both him and his granddaughter, Greta, up in the visitor's quarters for the night. The fact that they were now discussing their proposed schedule for the day in the open and surrounded by a few hundred students and professors was entirely due to the fact that Harry's wife, Hermione, had cast a spell that Minerva had not heard of before which rendered their conversation muffled and unintelligible to anyone outside of it's boundaries. The fact that the Minister of Magic was a part of the group also had a discouraging effect since any potential eavesdroppers might potentially find themselves not in detention, but in Azkaban. Oddly enough, by holding their meeting like this, in public, they were less likely to be suspected of planning anything. Having Luke, Nesta, Charlie, Remus, Tonks, Oliver, Martha and Greta as part of the group made it look like just a gathering of friends and relatives who decided to stay over from the party. Poppy sat to the left of Minerva, bookending Rufus, who was on her right. Luna and Dougal, along with the required presence of Harry, Hermione, Ron and Honey rounded out the usuals. Ginny and Neville had, at the rather forcefully stated request of Molly, returned with the majority of the Weasleys to the Burrow to have the private part of the reunion there, today. Charlie had promised to arrive by early afternoon and Fred and George had to help Lee Jordan return their unsold wares to their store. For those seated at the Gryffindor table, however, the official reason for their location would be to indulge Greta's wish to eat breakfast with her hero; Harry Potter. That, at least, was true enough.

"Could I have some more toast, please, Harry?" asked Greta. It would be her eighth piece.

"I suppose so," said Harry, picking up some bread with the tongs. "Haaa... Haaa," he said and placed the toast on her plate. "Careful; it's hot." A five year old could be entertained by this all day long.

"I will be," said Rufus as he picked up the toast and spread grape jelly on it for his granddaughter. She smiled and began to eat it, her already purple fingers getting even darker.

"So, what are the assignments for today?" asked Charlie, a little bit later. "It sounds like you have a lot more planned than visiting Muck."

"We do," agreed Hermione. "Before we discuss any of this, we need to see off our youngest member." She turned to Greta and said, "I understand that you already know Martha, Greta."

"Yes," said Greta. "Grampa and I know Martha and Merry. Their daddy worked with Grampa."

"That's right," said Martha. "You and I are going to spend the morning together. I thought we'd start with watching them take down the tents and everything from the party. After that, we'll see."

"That sounds okay, I guess," said Greta, obviously uninspired. "Maybe Harry will take us on another dragon ride later."

"I might," said Harry. "We'll have to see how the day goes."

"I hope we do," said Greta. "I love dragon rides."

"Most people do," said Rufus. "In fact, I only know one person who wouldn't jump at the chance, right now." He smiled at Hermione.

"I'm getting better," said Hermione. "It's my idiot husband's fault. He keeps turning any way except the one you'd expect."

"Maybe you'd like some reins and a saddle," suggested Tonks.

"Maybe an ejector seat and a parachute," countered Hermione. Harry laughed.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "If there's time when we get back, and you can talk Greta into a smooth ride, I'll take you on a long, gentle flight through the mountains."

"Now I could agree to that," said Hermione. "No loops; no barrel rolls; just a nice, scenic flight through the hills and mountains of Scotland."

"Sounds boring," said Greta. "Maybe you wouldn't be too scared if I held your hand, Huminerme."

"I'm sure she'll be just fine, Greta," said Scrimgeour. "Don't give Martha any trouble, now." He received a hug from Greta who then went off happily with Martha.

"I'm surprised you aren't joining them, Oliver," said Hermione. "It seemed to me that the two of you hit it off quite well, yesterday."

"We had fun," agreed Wood, "but I have business to conduct here, as well. Besides, you should never get too close to a single woman of child-bearing age while she is enjoying the company of a small child, especially a girl."

Ron started to write something at the same time as Hermione said, "That has got to be the most, backwards, sexist comment not to have come out of Ron or Harry that I have heard in quite a long time."

As she finished, Ron held up his note. It read, 'That doesn't make it less true.'

Hermione read the note and asked, "How did you know I'd say what I said?"

Ron wrote, 'Just blind luck. I couldn't have possibly known that you'd take offense at someone saying something so obviously true, could I?'

"That would have been almost impossible to foresee," agreed Harry. "Although," he started, but stopped.

"Although what?" asked Hermione. She sensed, too late, that it was something Harry didn't really want to discuss in public.

Harry paused a moment before deciding he was among friends. "I was just thinking that when I had to come up with tears to heal Ron's head wounds, it was the thought of our children, sons actually, growing up together that finally brought some results." There was a pause here as everyone contemplated this. Ron leaned back and smiled warmly at Honey, who kissed him.

"Perhaps we should move on," said Minerva. "I believe that it will be Madame Pomfrey who will be the busiest today. What will be the most efficient use of her time?"

"I think that I'll only need to spend a short time with Hermione and Tonks," said Poppy. "The potion is ingested in a fairly straightforward manner so they should be able to handle dispensing it to the prisoners. After that, I'd like to spend as much time as necessary with Ron, Honey and Mr. and Mrs. Sweetwater discussing and explaining some possible therapies and exercises. We'll then be practicing the ones that show the most promise."

Ron wrote, 'I was planning on going with Harry and Oliver. Can't we do the therapy stuff later?'

"We are doing speed trials and going on a fairly long trip, Ron, "said Harry. "I know that you can make pretty good time on that rug of yours, but I don't think you can keep pace with a firebolt. We'll report back on the results of the animagus experiments."

"What sort of experiments are you planning, Harry," asked McGonagall. "I certainly hope that they will be safe."

"They should be, Minerva," said Hermione. "We just had a question on whether or not an item Harry could be wearing would maintain it's properties after the transformation into a dragon."

"I would tend to think that it would," said Minerva. "Whenever I have tried to transform without my glasses, I have found that I remain near-sighted as a cat."

"I forgot that you were an animagus," exclaimed Hermione. "In this case, however, I believe we will still need to perform the experiment to verify the expected result."

"What is the experiment and what result are you expecting?" asked McGonagall.

"Ron wanted to see, or not see, depending on how it works out," started Honey, already heading into confusion, "if Harry's invisibility cloak, when worn during his transformation, would continue to keep him invisible while a dragon." Honey had jumped in with the explanation to ensure that everyone knew it was Ron's idea; not Hermione's. Since he became partially disabled, she felt that his continued importance to the group needed to be stressed and took every opportunity to do just that. The teens, however, had become so used to bouncing ideas off of each other that, quite often, they neither knew, nor cared, who had the original thought.

"That would be an interesting advantage in battle," mused Rufus. "I believe you are also working on determining his top speed?" He glanced around until he saw Harry and Ron nod, simultaneously. He smiled and said, "I do believe that an invisible dragon flying in at a hundred miles per hour would have a major impact with large group interactions. I'm not sure it would be all that useful for small groups, though."

Ron held up his hand to indicate he had a short message. After a few seconds, he wrote, 'You're right. I was thinking more of escape situations. It would have been a useful method to use at Umbridge's house.'

"Don't remind me," said Harry. "Naturally, as I mentioned to Rufus, the thought never occurred to me. It still would have been difficult since both you and Hermione were wounded fairly quickly."

"Still," said Hermione, "if you were an invisible dragon, you could have killed all the Death Eaters with less risk to yourself." She thought a moment more before adding, "I think you should enchant that harness that you used yesterday for summoning. The conjured ones only last a short time and if we ran into another situation where no one would be available to conjure it, you'd be able to have access to a real one; a sixteen-seater, at that."

"I suppose it's already paid for," agreed Harry. "I'll have Winky put it somewhere in the Fortress."

"That reminds me," said Hermione. "Please come here, Sassy." She had figured out how to politely call an elf without running out of time.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," said Sassy a moment later. "What can Sassy be doing for Mistress Hermione?"

"Good morning, Sassy," said Hermione. "Did you have a chance to count the money from the dunk tank?"

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," replied Sassy. "There is being three-hundred and eighty-five galleons and seventy-seven sickles in the basin when we is being done."

"That turned out well," said Harry. "How did you manage to have more galleons than sickles when it was a sickle a throw?"

"I can answer that," said McGonagall, who had spent the most time of anyone, except Sassy and Umbridge, at the dunk tank. "Some of the younger children needed to make change for a galleon and Sassy used the money already collected to do just that. Also, some of the adults and older students realized that it was all for charity and just paid a galleon for ten throws."

"That's great," said Harry. "Could you please see that the money gets to St. Mungo's, Rufus?"

"I'd be happy to do that," said Rufus.

"Great," said Harry. "Now, after Oliver, Charlie and I return from Muck, we'll probably be able to explain everything to the conscripted Death Eaters." He turned towards the far end of their group and asked, "Luna. You don't seem to need much time to tell who's really a Death Eater. We have about a hundred wizards and witches to get through. Will two hours be enough time?"

"I believe so, Harry," said Luna, softly, "although I might want to spend a bit more time on those that I think might be evil; just to make sure."

"Fair enough," said Harry. "I want you to be comfortable with your decisions. I'd like for you to be sure about those you think aren't evil, too. Dougal will be with you, correct?" He looked at Dougal.

"All the way," said Dougal. He, above all others, knew how out of character if was for the happy-go-lucky witch to become judge and jury.

"Great," said Harry, again. "Assuming we'll have a few that will want to help out, we'll need a place for them to be trained in either the paperwork or the basics of guard duty. I understand how you feel, Oliver," he said as Wood started to speak, "but Rufus is correct. It's hard enough for fully trained and experienced aurors to stand up to competent Death Eaters. Amateurs would be unnecessarily placing themselves in jeopardy. The best solution is to learn how to do the fairly safe jobs and allow the real aurors to do what they are trained for."

Wood groused a bit but nodded his head in agreement. As a quidditch player, and former team captain, he knew that to win you had to use your best people.

"This brings up another issue," said Harry. "Oliver has seen the entire Fortress of Solitude and he also knows everyone involved, including Martha. If he were caught, it would be like sending Voldemort a letter telling him exactly where to find us.This won't be much of a problem during training but when the time comes to actually help out the aurors, we'll be placing ourselves in danger of losing one of our most important secrets."

"I agree, in theory," said Rufus. "However, we have never seen our support staff being specifically targeted. Unless Voldemort knew, somehow, that the witch writing the arrest reports in Brighton was one of his former forced Death Eaters, I don't see much of a chance of him being able to gain useful information from that source."

"Nevertheless," said Hermione, "we still need to do what we must to ensure that any volunteers are as safe as possible."

"We still have some time before we have to commit to any particular method," said Harry. "Rufus. Did Professor Coldiron seem interested in helping with the training?"

Rufus laughed out loud. At the stunned looks of virtually everyone around him, with the exception of Luna, he explained, "I'm sorry. It's the 'Professor' Coldiron that cracks me up whenever I hear it. I've known Hammer since he started out and he was not named in vain. Whenever we had some full power justice to dispense, as he used to say, it was Hammer leading the way. I remember one time, we were making a charged entry; that's running into a room with the lead man blasting the door at the last second to the uninitiated. Anyway, Hammer was in front and he was so pumped up that he forgot the spell. Hit that door wide open and both it and Hammer go sliding across the room. The Death Eaters were all watching him instead of us, of course, and it turned out to be one of our easiest raids. Not for Hammer, you see, but it was a walk for the rest of us."

Everyone laughed but none quite so heartily as Minerva. She grabbed Scrimgeour's arm as if to steady herself and said, "Rufus, I feel vindicated. I didn't know Professor Coldiron before I hired him but he just seemed like the kind of wizard you have illustrated for us." She then added, in a teasing tone, "I have to wonder, of course, just what sort of stories he might have about your exploits."

"He's sworn to secrecy," said Rufus, "unless you trick him, somehow."

"Like saying something like 'Please tell us the twenty-seven most embarrassing things that the Minister of Magic has ever done.'?" asked Tonks.

"That's cheating," said Rufus. "You know he can't resist a direct request." He smiled a second before adding, "As to the original question, Hammer said that he'd be happy to help."

"That's good," said Tonks. "I've never really been that good at the paperwork part of the job." She looked around the table in general and asked, "So when and where will we be doing this training?"

"Assuming we have enough interested parties to make it worthwhile," said Hermione, "we only know where we won't be holding classes. That would be in the Fortress of Solitude."

"Why not?" asked Wood. "There's plenty of room."

"That's true," agreed Hermione, "but with the exception of you and one other, no former Death Eater has had a good look around the place. Depending on how extensively Voldemort might interrogate any of them that he recaptured, the risk is relatively low on his recognizing the place. Now if what we have located on the far end of the office came into view, it would be a dead giveaway."

"You mean the...," began Wood.

"Don't say it!" shouted about half of the people at the table.

Scrimgeour laughed. "It must be bloody obvious."

"It is," said Hermione with a warning look at Wood. "It is for this reason that once we have sorted out the truly dark volunteers, I believe that the rest should see as little as possible of the Fortress from that point onward. That would include providing an alternative location for training as well as possibly for lodging."

"When did you decide all of this?" asked Harry. "I don't seem to remember any discussions along those lines."

"The actual specifics came to me this morning while we were talking with Martha," replied Hermione, "although the genesis of the idea was probably when I saw Martha and Oliver walking around in the open. It crossed my mind what a security risk that had been, if only theoretically. I agree that one or two ex-Death Eaters could just blend in but if there were loads of them walking around, it would only be a matter of time before one of them were recognized. By moving them out of the Fortress before they can learn much about it or it's layout, we would reduce the risk to our operations."

"We're talking about up to fifty or sixty men and women, Hermione," said Harry. "The Fortress is the only place I know of that has that kind of room."

"Well," said McGonagall, "I'm not sure what could be done about the housing issue but Hogwarts has plenty of free classrooms available for training purposes. I believe we could isolate a section of the castle with a few rooms that could be used."

"That's very generous of you, Headmistress," said Hermione. "That leaves us with just needing a place for them to live."

"That flat you put me up in last night was quite nice," said Charlie. "It was also quite roomy. I'd bet four or five people could make do there for the time being. How many more flats like that do you have available?"

"We have seventeen, all together," said Hermione. "Martha is in one and Oliver is in another so we currently have fifteen free."

"Fourteen free," said Harry. "My aunt and uncle are in one, as well."

"Oh, I forgot," said Hermione. "That's right. We have fourteen left."

"You have a block of flats somewhere?" asked Rufus. "Even the Ministry would have trouble coming up with that much real estate."

"It's in our Fortress," said Harry. "It might serve our purposes, though. Except for Martha, none of the other flats have doors. The only way in or out would be by elf." He looked at Ron and asked, "What do you think, Ron?"

Ron had been sitting quietly, of course. If he had been able to talk, he would have been doing so but he agreed with what had been said, so far, and had remained an observer. Harry's request for his opinion forced him to consider the various outcomes of the plan.

'We might need to alter a few of them to be more of a dormitory,' he wrote, 'but they would be totally impossible to trace. If Voldemort tried to judge their location by what could be seen looking out their windows, he'd go nuts.' Harry and Hermione both laughed.

"What's so funny," asked Honey. She had not been inside one of their flats and didn't know about the magical windows facing various scenic locations about the countryside.

"Unless I miss my guess," said Wood, "the windows are enchanted, somehow, to show views from somewhere else. I can see a distant view of London down the Thames from my bedroom window and there is a view of mountains from my sitting room."

"Those are similar to the ones we have at the Ministry," said Rufus. "Those aren't cheap, Harry."

"Well, without giving anything away," said Harry, "our block of flats is underground. We originally planned on using them for families that needed protection so we assumed that they should be as normal as possible."

"That's nice of you to think of those things," said Rufus. He thought just a moment before asking, "Do you suppose I could see one of these flats?"

"I suppose so," said Harry. "You wouldn't be able to tell where they were, anyway, so I'm sure we could arrange something." He looked a little confused by the request.

"Thanks," said Rufus. "We currently have six or seven families, mostly the widows and orphans of aurors, in what we call protective custody. Unlike the attack at Azkaban, where those killed were just unlucky, these aurors and their families were specifically targeted. If your facilities are of a higher quality than the Ministry's, and I think they might be, I would like to request that they be allowed to stay here. Our facilities are fairly secure, but they are far from homey. The addition of windows, alone, would be greatly appreciated, I'm sure."

"I think we can arrange something," said Hermione. "We'll have to see how it goes with the ex-Death Eaters."

Harry immediately said, "We'll build more flats, if necessary."

"I wouldn't expect you to incur additional major expenses," said Rufus, quickly. "I could probably come up with some galleons, if I had to."

"Shortly after we left Hogwarts last year," said Harry, "I was entrusted with the key to a vault. That vault contains a vast amount of gold. One of the stated purposes of that gold was to help those in need, especially due to acts of Voldemort. I spent ten years in a secure location that was anything but homey. I wouldn't want anyone to have to go through that while I was able to help. Perhaps you and Minerva could make arrangements with Slider on their transfer while Hermione and her crew are sorting out the prisoners and Oliver, Charlie and I are on our errands."

"I think we could handle that much," said Minerva. The Minister nodded his head in agreement.

"I think we should all be set until at least noon, then," said Harry.

"Not quite," said Honey. "If you'll recall, you promised to take at least two commandos with you when you left the grounds."

"Thank you, Honey," said Hermione. "I expect you to do just that, dear." She looked at him with an expression that brooked no argument.

Harry sighed and said, "Yes, dear." Ron, however, was not quite satisfied.

'I have been thinking about that, as well,' he wrote, 'and believe you should have the elves under two of the invisibility cloaks.'

Harry thought about it and said, "I suppose if we're concerned about security, having them hidden makes sense."

"I agree," said Rufus. "I assume one of the cloaks was the one Dolores used?"

"That's right," said Harry, "and the other one was from our assassin."

"Well, I don't think we need to worry about it just now," said the Minister, "but I did some checking of my own after Dolores was discovered. I wondered where she was able to obtain such a fairly rare item as an invisibility cloak. It turned out that it was one that the Ministry had confiscated when someone had tried to break in. Again, I don't need to know this as long as it's being useful to you but at some point, we might need to return it."

"I appreciate that, Rufus," said Harry. "I think that I might know the rightful owner, however. Remus. Didn't Mad-eye loose his cloak under similar circumstances? Perhaps this is his."

"You are probably correct," said Remus. "It was his spare, if I remember correctly. I don't remember who he had lent it to but they were caught and he lost it." He turned back to Scrimgeour and explained, "That was back when Fudge was in power and we had to fight the Ministry as well as Voldemort."

"I see," said Rufus. "If Mad-eye recognizes it as his, then you may make your arrangements with him. The bureaucrats don't need to know anything."

"Thanks, Rufus," said Harry. "We should have wondered how she obtained a cloak, as well. You might work out as a member of the team, after all." Everyone chucked.

"I suppose we had all be off, then," said Minerva and stood up. As they formed into their groups and headed for the doors, Harry noticed that Dougal had discretely pulled Minerva to one side and they had a quick, whispered conversation. Dougal then rejoined Luna and everyone went to their assigned duties.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry, Oliver and Charlie stood on the field just past the quidditch pitch. Slider was busy working with Minerva and Rufus so they were joined by Jumper and Sleepy, two other members of the Hogwarts Free Elves who had shown their ability to work in the field. Each of the elves had an invisibility cloak, although they were not currently wearing them.

"Muck is roughly one hundred miles south south west of here," said Charlie, pointing in the indicated direction. "Oliver and I will be at three thousand feet, so we're unlikely to be seen by the odd fisherman we might meet on the way. As a dragon, however, you'd be impossible to miss."

"Let's start, then, by finding out if Ron's right about the invisibility cloak," said Oliver.

"Okay," said Harry. "You lot stay here. I don't want to trample you." He walked about thirty yards to the north. He put on the cloak and vanished. "Here goes," he called and initiated the transformation.

He watched Oliver and Charlie to see their reaction. They were talking to each other and pointing towards him. This discouraged Harry but he finished the agreed series of actions by walking several yards from side to side and forwards and backwards. His friends had no trouble following the movements. Harry then returned to normal and removed his cloak.

"I'm guessing that it didn't work," said Harry, dejectedly, as he walked back over to the others.

"It worked pretty well, if you ask me," said Charlie. Wood nodded his agreement.

"You two were watching every step I took," protested Harry. "How is that a successful test of invisibility?"

"You weren't exactly invisible," conceded Oliver, "But it wasn't like you were all that noticeable, either. You looked more like, well, what would you say, Charlie?"

"Have you ever looked down a road on a very hot day?" asked Charlie. "It's sort of like the shimmering of the air just off the pavement. We could see your outline, especially when you were moving, but that was at close range. I'd say it was more effective than a disillusionment spell but not total invisibility."

"Was I hard to see when I stood perfectly still?" asked Harry. He was trying to determine the limitations of this mode of disguise.

"Fairly," said Oliver. "If you moved at all, you were easy to make out, but when you were still, you would be hard to find unless you knew where to look."

"We'll try it again at night," said Charlie, "but even in daylight, it should allow you to fly over populated areas without detection, or at least without recognition."

"Fair enough," said Harry. "That's more that could be said yesterday." He draped the cloak over his shoulders, leaving only his head exposed, for the moment. "Shall we be off to Muck?"

Charlie looked at his watch. "It's almost nine. I know the way so I'll head out at top speed. At nine, you two take off and Harry can push himself as fast as he can manage. Head south south west at around three thousand feet. If I don't see you in five minutes or so, I'll circle back and lead the way. In no event, do not pass me by. We could do another trial on the way back, if necessary, but I should lead us in. There are quite a few dragons there, as well as their handlers. A rogue dragon dropping out of the sky might get attacked."

"That sounds good," said Harry. "Off you go, then."

Charlie mounted his loaner firebolt, waited a moment for Jumper, now cloaked, to join him on the broom and headed off. He assumed the aerodynamic position familiar to any quidditch player and quickly achieved top speed. Harry and Oliver watched as he disappeared into the distance.

"Blimey," said Oliver. "He'll be miles away when we head out. We'll never catch him."

"Probably not," said Harry, "but we'll see how fast I can manage." He thought about what Hermione and Charlie had said about dragon flight being determined by belief and magic; not aerodynamics. It was hard to get his mind around that concept, however. He had never concentrated on exactly how he flew; he usually just flapped his wings a bit and shifted his body to point in the right direction.

"One minute," said Oliver, looking at his watch. It was time to prepare themselves. Harry walked about twenty yards away from Wood and and Sleepy before covering himself completely with his cloak. He turned around and transformed into a dragon. With Sleepy in front of him, Oliver mounted his broom and soon was holding out his hand with five fingers spread out; then four; three; two; one.

Harry sprang into the air just as Wood zoomed ahead. Harry was rising quickly when it occurred to him that Hermione was right; he should be flapping much harder to be gaining altitude this fast. He immediately started to loose his battle with gravity. He tried saying to himself, 'I believe! I believe!' but it didn't help. As he neared the ground with ever increasing speed, he instinctively pulled up and found himself once again on the rise. Hermione could have her logical thought process; he'd take instincts any day.

No longer concerned with lift to drag ratios, Harry caught up to Oliver and proceeded to head SSW. Flapping lazily every few seconds, he continued to gain speed. He didn't seem to be putting Oliver to any sort of test, though, and he tried to flap a bit harder, imagining himself being pushed to a greater and greater velocity. Remembering a television program which featured jet fighters, he started to push back instead of down with his wings and held them by his side while gliding. This reduced his wind resistance to the point where Oliver had to push his broom a bit to keep up. The wind was starting to become a nuisance for his eyes so Harry just held it at that level, considering it to be his maximum sustainable speed. Eventually, Charlie rejoined them and in a bit they were flying in formation down the Sound of Sleat.

"So tell me, Severus," asked the Dark Lord, sipping his morning coffee, "what was it that bothered you about Sanders?" He was calmly perusing the special section of the Sunday Daily Prophet which featured full color photos of Peter and Dolores smiling broadly and periodically embracing or kissing.

"Nothing in particular," answered Snape, "but Preston had given me his cookie once." He had moved on from the unappetizing couple and was exploring the rest of the paper.

Voldemort attempted a smile. "Yes," he hissed, "you do have a fondness for those treats, don't you? Thanks for sharing the ones the mudblood gave you, by the way." Snape had not mentioned the fact that he had acquired two dozen chocolate chip cookies during the meeting where he discovered that Umbridge had been replaced. After yesterday's paper came out, however, his memories of that meeting, as well as many others, were replayed in his mind while his master was determining, for the second time, in fact, whether or not Snape was a traitor. When Sanders had delivered the paper, Voldemort was curious about the absence of his current second. When he had glanced at the front page, and after he had released his fury on poor Sanders, his curiosity blossomed into full scale suspicion. Snape had passed that test, of course, or he would not be sitting here. Having been warned that more photos were to follow, he had merely glanced at them. The real purpose behind the photos and articles needed to be confronted.

"I have been analyzing the interactions we have been having with Potter, lately" said Voldemort. "They all have a few characteristics in common. Beginning with Malfoy's clumsy attempt to lure Potter to his death using his mudblood as bait, through his most recent success in killing or capturing scores of my followers during the attacks earlier this week, he has shown an ability that always eluded Dumbledore. He will kill any or all of his enemies until they either surrender or die. Perhaps he learned from his mentor's mistakes. He has also, on at least one occasion, used my own temper against me. Lucius paid the price with his life. I will not repeat that exercise, although I am sorely tempted. He has publicly mocked me as well as those who chose to follow me. I believe that the intention of this was to draw us into an ill-conceived battle. I will not oblige him a second time."

"I am sure that you are correct, Master," said Snape. "Do you intend to pursue other methods to punish the traitor at this time or let him worry about his fate for a bit?"

"Traitor?" asked Voldemort. "Surely, you didn't believe that was Peter. The amount of contempt and courage shown was beyond his ability to muster. No, I believe that Wormtail was captured with the rest of his men and an impostor substituted." He took another bite out of his toast and looked back at the pictures of the overly exuberant Pettigrew.

"The same might be true about Umbridge", concluded Snape. "With respect, the one true item in that paper was the fact that his Fortress is currently beyond our reach. The shear arrogance of Potter is proof of that as well as his parentage. His father was also particularly gifted in his ability to showcase his cleverness."

"It must not remain so," said Voldemort, letting a bit of his frustration show despite his earlier acknowledgment of it's counterproductiveness. "I have the ability to subdue my foes here and there but it will not have any major effect as long as Potter stands as a beacon of hope. For the time being, however, I will allow him to be just that. It will serve my ultimate purpose. In fact, I see now that the goal I pursued while trying to destroy Dumbledore remains unchanged with the exception of the target. I had hoped that the death of the old muggle-lover would cause others to lose their will to resist me. Instead, they gained a new champion. It might even be worth the trouble to feed him some of my less useful Death Eaters to build him up a bit more before the end."

Snape considered this. "I am sure that you are correct in your analysis, Master. If you allow the weak minded to pin all of their hopes on a false messiah, his fall might be enough to finish this war. It would be a brilliant irony."

"In the meantime," said Voldemort, "I wish to pursue several goals. These articles," he held up the newspaper, "while embarrassing, had a more strategic intent. Potter understands that my loyal followers, while dangerous and competent, have spent many years in Azkaban and will require time to adjust to current realities. He was hoping my temper would cause me to do his bidding and I would, once again, send out my Death Eaters to be rounded up, or slaughtered, like sheep. I admire his tactics because it is exactly the opposite from what I would have expected in the past. I shall not oblige him. Your mission, Severus, is to succeed where Wormtail failed. You may use whatever resources are necessary but by the end of the month I will expect to know the exact location of Potter's stronghold, it's significant strengths and weaknesses and at least an outline of a competent plan to take it from him. It still holds almost a quarter of my old strength within it's walls. Greyback and Dolohov, especially, must be recovered. Do not use the portkey target since it is almost certainly known, by now, to Potter."

"Yes, my Lord," said Snape. "It shall be as you command." He rose in preparation of departing.

"Send in Rookwood," commanded Voldemort. "I have an assignment for him, as well. I wish to buy time for my loyal followers to recover. Perhaps we will be able to annoy Potter as much as he has annoyed me."

Hermione stood at the front of the fourth floor classroom that McGonagall had assigned her. It was an unused astrology room that had stood empty for many decades since Dumbledore had decided that the stars had better things to do than predict if you should ask for a raise. Divination and Astronomy divided up the few items deemed useful and the zodiac themed room had fallen out of memory.

Hermione took a breath and said, in a loud and clear voice, "Good morning. My name is Hermione and I have a few things to discuss with you." She had decided to use just her first name for the time being. Once all of their prisoners were properly treated to remove Voldemort's loyalty spell, she would let them know of her relationship with Harry. Until then, she didn't want any of them going off on her. Remus and Tonks stood nearby next to two carts loaded with potion bottles. Jordy Krillian sat on a bench to the side of the room, having been already treated but needing to be briefed with the others. Luna and Dougal sat together behind the ancient teacher's desk with Hammer Coldiron standing like a rock behind them. The seven available members of the Hogwarts Free Elves were scattered about the room, just in case of trouble.

"First," she began, "we, that is Tonks and I," she indicated the witch next to Remus, "will be performing a spell on each of you which will actually disenchant you. The side effects of this counterspell are rather severe nausea and dizziness so we have prepared some potions to prevent the bulk of the symptoms. I would recommend that you take it." Two of the elves pushed the carts through the classroom while the others, along with Hermione, Remus and Tonks, watched to make sure they were all consumed. A harmless side effect of the potion was a mild amount of smoke from the ears so it was easy to spot, and correct, the holdouts. When everyone had finally taken the potion, Hermione spoke again.

"I'll give you a minute or so for the potion to achieve full potency and give you some other useful information." She paced back and forth for a moment to gather her thoughts. "After you are disenchanted," she began, "some of you will feel exactly the same and notice no difference. Some others might be a bit confused on the reasons behind your more recent actions and may begin to have a few regrets. A few of you might be totally at a loss to explain yourselves. It is to this third group that I wish to make the following point. No matter what you might have done or to whom you did it, you are not evil. We have already found one former Death Eater who had no intentions of joining but the spell we are intending to remove confused him, or more accurately compelled him, to join. This could be the same for several of you. Anything you did from that point on is not your fault and we will not hold it against you." She paused, preparing to say what Harry had requested, despite her own reservations on the subject. "I would also like to let you know that if you freely and willingly joined the Death Eaters, this will also not be directly punished. All we ask for is honesty. We will be able to tell. If you are a true Death Eater, say so. You will not be in any worse a situation than you are now. If you were just walking down the street and suddenly decided to become a Death Eater and did horrible things that you regret, tell us that, as well. If you are somewhere in between, work with us and we will determine your level of complicity. Just don't lie to us. It will be found out and you will be punished. It is a waste of our time and will do nothing to help you."

She looked around. The ears had all stopped smoking so she began on one side with Tonks on the other. "Destorum Obligatus Semprous," intoned Hermione, waving her wand at the first Death Eater. He gulped and sat back in his chair but didn't vomit or collapse. A moment later, clearly shaken but not seriously harmed, he nodded his head as a token of the passing of the nausea. Hermione smiled and moved on. Some showed a greater amount of distress and some less. After about ten minutes, all of the Death Eaters were treated.

Hermione observed that some of the Death Eaters, after initially recovering from the effects of her counterspell, began to become agitated again. She decided to have her witness testify.

"Jordy," she said, "I believe it would be a good time for you to speak." Jordy had requested to help. He had had over a week to contemplate the aspects of his past that was free choice and the parts that were due to the spell and thought he could offer some insights. He stood in front of the group.

"I am Jordy Krillian. Some of you know me and others might have just seen me among the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. I have been relieved of the spell the Dark Lord placed on me for a bit over a week and have had some time to think. I believe that I fall into the second group that Hermione Potter has described. I joined of my own free will but I do remember that I became very excited when I received my dark mark. From that point onward, I feel that I was enchanted. Looking back, I am ashamed, as some of you might now be, of the things that I did. After Mrs. Potter disenchanted me, I spent a day or so trying to figure it all out. I joined the Death Eaters for my own ends and knew I might be in a fight or two but I never intended to be party to cold blooded murder. A few days before my capture, though, and I was involved in just that. I did not, thank God, perform the act myself but I was there when we killed two harmless old muggles just so we could use their house. At the time, I thought nothing of it. They were in the way of the Dark Lord's plans. Now I can only regret my part. I do believe, and I implore you to do the same, that it was not totally my fault. I still find it hard to separate what I chose to do and what I was compelled to do. Everything seemed to make sense, at the time. As a rule of thumb, if you find yourself shocked at your actions, they weren't your fault."

"Thank you, Jordy," said Hermione. Jordy returned to his seat. "Now, if you'll start here," she indicated the Death Eater that she had treated first, "please go up to the teacher's desk where you'll be asked a couple simple questions. Again, we can tell if you're lying, so don't."

"I think I know this one," said Rufus. He and Minerva had been enjoying themselves by looking out the magical windows in all of the unoccupied flat in the Fortress. The view through the current window was particularly beautiful since the leaves had started to change. They had been having an impromptu game of 'Where the heck is that?'. Minerva was doing much better than Rufus although they had found a few that neither of them could recognize. Fortunately, Slider had pointed out that a small nameplate in the corner of each window identified it's view. "This is Loch Garve, I believe. I had one of my more enjoyable stake-outs down by that grove of oak trees." He pointed towards an outcropping a mile or so away. Minerva leaned into him to look down his arm.

"That is a nice spot," she agreed. "I think I like this window the best, so far." She didn't move away and he wasn't complaining. After a few moments, she straightened up and asked, "So, Rufus; do you think these flats will be satisfactory for your families?"

"They'd be pretty hard to please if they weren't," replied Rufus. "Slider, would you be able to have, let's see, I believe seven of these flats provisioned with food and linens by tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, Master Rufus," said Slider. "We is being able to be caring for families whenever they is being here."

"Fine," said Rufus. "I'll send an owl to Mary Geneva. She runs the protective custody program and should get the ball rolling on relocating those families." He turned to Minerva and said, "It really is a disgrace, the little amount that the Wizengamot will budget to protect and care for the families of aurors who gave their lives. They're living in little better than slums, right now. I'm glad that Harry was able to help us out."

"So am I, Rufus," agreed Minerva. "Slider, when we finish here, please arrange an area both inside and outside of the castle for any young children that might be joining us to play. Also, assign a specific elf to respond to each family, if necessary. That would be less stressful for everyone involved."

"Yes, Mistress," said Slider. He waited patiently for the two of them to decide on their next destination. Personally, he thought if you saw one of these flats, you've seen them all but the elderly witch and wizard seemed intent on actually seeing them all. The last assignments, however, seemed to indicate they were approaching the closing chords.

"Perhaps it would be better to floo Miss Geneva," said Minerva. "It's rather far to London from here and flooing would give her more time to prepare. We could call from my office, if you'd like." She then got a mischievous grin on her face and added, "I also have a bit more of the dog that bit us in my quarters. A sip or two might be enjoyable, while we wait for the others to finish their business."

"That sounds wonderful," said Rufus. "I can't go anywhere until Greta gets her dragon ride, anyway."

With a last look out the window, they had Slider take them to the Headmistress' office.

Landing on the small islet to the north of Muck, just to the east of it's twin, the two wizards, two elves and a mostly invisible dragon currently in the process of changing into an invisible wizard compared notes.

"I make it at nine forty-six," said Oliver. "So we know it's a bit over a hundred miles per hour but we'll have to check on the exact distance for any sort of accuracy."

Harry pulled off his cloak and joined them. "That's about how fast I was thinking," he agreed. "A bit over a hundred. You didn't look like you were pushing your firebolt very much but the wind was pretty hard on my eyes. I think that limited me more than anything else."

"We'll have to think about that," said Charlie. "The weak point on a dragon is it's eyes. Maybe some goggles would help." They all laughed at the thought.

"Maybe," agreed Harry, chuckling. "Let's go see if the other dragons have some suggestions."

"Just a moment," said Charlie. He had noticed a few wizards on brooms approaching from the other side of the islet. Within a couple of minutes, they had landed.

"This is a restricted area," stated the first wizard as he landed. "You will need to leave immediately."

"Good morning," said Charlie. The other two wizards landed near the first but seemed no less impatient. "We're not lost or tourists. I'm Charlie Weasley and I'm a dragon handler from Albania. This is Oliver Wood and Harry Potter."

The three newcomers seemed momentarily shocked but quickly recovered and shook everyone's hands; especially Harry's.

"Pleased to meet you," said the second wizard to have landed. "I'm Tom McFusty. This is Hunter Miller and the tall chap is Lowell McGurney.

"Charmed," said Charlie. "Are there any others nearby? I only ask because we'd like this trip to be a bit off the record."

"Julie is visiting her mother for the next day or so but Henry is checking on Herd Two and should be gone until noon," replied Tom. Apparently, he was the ranking team member. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Well," said Harry, "I don't know if you read about it anywhere, but I am an animagus. My form is a dragon and we were doing some tests to determine what is, and isn't, possible. One thing we'd like to find out here is if it is possible for me to communicate with other dragons."

"We know you are an animagus, of course," said Lowell. "I don't suppose there are many dragoneers in the world who don't know that. As to talking with our lot; well, they aren't quite as vicious as they could be, for Hebridean Blacks, but it could be a bit touchy if they misunderstood you, for instance."

"I'll try to be nice to them," said Harry. "Are there any nearby?"

"They're all on the main island," answered Hunter. We live on the islets and they get the mainland. A bit of separation helps us to sleep at night. The alarms go off when a dragon is approaching us. That's how we knew you were coming in, although we couldn't spot the dragon. Are you small, or something?"

"Something," said Harry. "I'd like to keep that part quiet, if you don't mind. To answer your question, though, I'm about eighty or so feet tall."

"That should help," said Tom, impressed. "Our lot are in the thirty to forty foot range. They might think twice about getting too frisky."

"Let's go find out," said Charlie.

"Should I go in as a dragon or a wizard?" asked Harry. He didn't have a broom but could summon his, if necessary.

"I think a dragon would be best," said Tom. "Come in slow and easy and let them get used to you. As we said, you'll be a lot bigger than them but this is their territory so they might want to check you out. Just don't do anything offensive and it should be fine. The rest of us will hold back a few hundred yards to give them time to say hello."

"Sounds good," said Harry. "I assume that the three of you can handle 'your lot', as you put it, but I just have one last piece of advice for 'my lot'. If it looks like the other dragons don't want to play nice, have your guardian angels get your butts back to Hogwarts. I'll meet you there."

"No problem," said Oliver. "If there's one thing I don't want to be too near, it's a dragon that doesn't play nice."

"You'll feel a bit of a tingle, when you pass the containment shield," offered Hunter. "Don't worry; it will only hurt a bit and there won't be any real damage done."

Wondering if there might be any imaginary damage, Harry back away from the others and transformed into his dragon form.

"Ach, I'd not ever a believed it if I dinna see it meself," said Tom, reverting a bit to his native dialect. "You're bloody huge!"

Smiling; well, showing his enormous teeth in a very threatening manner; Harry leaped into the air and circled the wizards, waiting for them to join him. After everyone was airborne, they headed south, towards the mainland.

Author's Note:

I wanted to give everyone an update on the story and why it is taking longer per chapter. I have NOT abandoned the story. For a month or so, now, I have been working seven days a week on my regular job. Eleven and a half hours per day during the week and six per day on the weekends. I have one other part time job and a small business of my own so, at times, my days are pretty full. During the summer, I also play about a dozen parades with my band. Now that fall is approaching, things should slow down in that department, at least. I will still try to get at least a chapter a month out while I am on ultra-overtime. I appreciate your patience and hope you stick with both me and the story.

Thank you.

Dad


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55 – Chilling with the Gang.

October 5th, 1997

At about two hundred yards from the north shore of Muck, Harry felt the 'tingle' of the containment shield. 'So that's how a moth feels when it hits a bug zapper,' mused Harry. He had definitely felt it but had to admit that no damage was done. As he approached, he decided to alter his course to prevent being mistaken as an overtly intruding dragon and tried to take a leisurely course along the shoreline while gaining altitude at a moderate pace. As he rose, he could see that most of the island was covered in a sparse woods with just a few clearings and one medium size lake. A large hill, possibly once a small mountain a very long time ago, stood near the end of an outcropping at the southernmost end of the island.

The island itself was fairly small; about two miles from east to west and not much more than a mile from north to south. Harry couldn't see how it would take Henry until noon to do anything. He pulled up a bit but still couldn't seem to find the other dragons. This confused him since the dragon handlers had mentioned that they had at least two groups. How do you hide groups of thirty foot long dragons on an island this small?

As he mused on this problem, Tom flew up and cruised by his head. "The closest group is on the north east end of the lake!" he shouted. "Head for them and we'll follow."

Harry turned to fly towards the small lake. It was only two or three hundred yards away. He saw no dragons. He could see some small birds or maybe large insects, maneuvering over the surface of the water but no real dragons. He remained confused and decided to land at the lake in order to get more information from one of the guardians of this strange place. After a few moments, he noticed something that made him forget completely about the dragons. He was flying fast over the island and his ground speed was evident when he looked down but the horizon was approaching much slower than would normally be expected. He should be able to overshoot the island in under a minute but he didn't seem to be making any headway, despite the fact that the ground beneath him was little more than a blur. He looked back at the north shore and saw that it was a mere fifty or so yards away. Harry suddenly realized that this island was enchanted to look very small so as to be of less interest to muggles but it was sufficiently large to support the needs of at least two groups of dragons. With this realization, he resumed his course towards the much larger than it appeared lake and picked up his speed to around a hundred miles per hour.

After about a half hour, he noticed that the birds at the north end of the lake were enlarging fairly quickly into the Hebridean Blacks that he was expecting. Harry slowed down before he overshot them and maintained what he hoped was a non-threatening posture as he closed in. While he was pondering the proper greeting for a dragon, one of the figures gliding over the lake gave a cry and began to fly towards him, followed closely by several others. They spread out and shifted to different positions within the group as they gathered into attack formation. Harry remembered from Hagrid's classes that dragons, while earning their aggressive reputation, seldom went looking for trouble against unknown foes. He knew, or at least hoped, that his superior size and lack of threatening characteristics would tend to have the other dragons more curious than combative.

This plan didn't seem to be gelling. The leader picked up speed and was matched by the rest. To an ordinary dragon, this might give cause for pause but Harry was no ordinary dragon. He was a dragon with six years quidditch experience. Playing chicken was part of the game. Harry was usually on the short end of the stick in the weight department but seldom broke off first. With a twenty ton weight advantage over these thirty foot runts, there was no way he'd let them push him around. Deciding to demand respect, Harry increased his speed and headed straight for the group. They didn't seem to have any inclination to change course, either, so Harry began to consider his next actions. He decided that just before impact, he would pull in his wings. Momentum would maintain his flight path and he didn't want to get too banged up. They were closing at a combined rate of over two hundred miles per hour. Harry considered that perhaps the best choice he could make at the moment was to let the other dragons win this round. A moment before he acted on this thought, and two moments before a collision, the other dragons veered off in all directions, allowing Harry to pass harmlessly through the empty space so recently occupied by them.

Sensing more excitement than anger from the other dragons, Harry decided to engage in a little male bonding. Flapping strenuously for thirty or forty seconds, he rose to an altitude of around five thousand feet. He did a barrel roll and noted that the other dragons were close behind him. He laughed a dragony laugh and dove towards the ground like a thirty ton rock. The others chased after, also emitting what he hoped were laughs. To the casual observer, of course, it sounded more like cries of fury before an epic battle. Harry had to squint to see at this speed but he was able to make out the surface of the lake enough to pull out of his dive with five feet to spare. Zooming across the lake, he kicked up a rooster tail from the suction of his passing. Looking back, he saw the other dragons were doing the same, but with less results due to their much smaller body size.

Harry dropped the tip of his tail in the water behind him, effectively drenching the lead dragons. He then pulled up into an inverted half loop and leisurely headed back towards the original gathering spot of the herd.

Now for the hard part. He wanted to be taken as a fun-loving, friendly stranger. By slowing down for his return flight, he was trying to indicate that he was both trusting enough to give them an opening for an attack and confident enough to be unconcerned if they tried. It was an added bonus that he would be in a better position to defend himself while in the air should things not work out as planned. With no hostile activities from the Blacks, so far, Harry went ahead and landed by the lake. The Blacks followed suit and in a matter of a few seconds, he was surrounded by eight, much smaller dragons.

Note: the subtitles are at the end of each sentence. If you want to experience things the same as Harry, ignore them.

"Guid morn," said a snow-headed dragon, to Harry's left. "Fa ur ye? (Good morning. / Who are you?)"

"Good morning," said Harry, catching the first part. "Um, fa what?"

"Whaur ur ye frae?" asked another, slightly smaller dragon that Harry guessed was a female. She had bright eyes and what could be construed, at least by another dragon, as a nice smile. (Where are you from?)

"That's whit eh'd loch tae ken, an aw, " said another male, heartily. "Ah dunnae kinn yer clan." He had a booming voice and seemed to be fairly friendly. (That's what I'd like to know, as well. / I don't know your clan.)"

I didn't bring a fray," said Harry, digging his hole a bit deeper. "I didn't catch the rest. Sorry." Harry thought that they sounded a lot like Hagrid and, to a lesser extent, McGonagall, but beyond the original 'Good morning' from the first dragon, he could make little sense of their words.

"He soonds loch he's frae London," said another female who had lighter skin than the others. "They hae 'at odd way ay talkin' doon thaur." (He sounds like he's from London. / They have that odd way of talking down there.)

Harry thought he picked up most of that and said, "I'm not from London, exactly, but I am English. Do any of you speak English?"

"He's 'spikin in Sassenach, alrecht. Ah suppose we'd better send fur Sionn," said a dark looking male, standing in the back of the group. (He's speaking in English, alright. I suppose we'd better send for Sionn.)

"Ah hink he said he wanted tae browse th' sooth meadaw fur sheep," suggested a tender voiced female with kind eyes. "I'll gang see if Ah can fin' heem." (I think he said he wanted to browse the south meadow for sheep. / I'll go see if I can find him.)

She took off towards the south. Harry had caught enough to guess that this Sionn that they were referring to must be able to speak, or at least understand, English. He hoped so, at least.

After the female left, there was an uncomfortable silence. Harry knew that it would be relatively fruitless to try to communicate without Sionn, who would hopefully be able to translate. The other Hebridean Blacks remained silent so as to not be rude to a guest who couldn't understand them. Of course the pause in the conversation allowed for other observations to be made. Before long, the white headed male made a discovery.

Sniffing, he looked around and said, "Thaur ur men nearby." The other dragons all started to look about, aggitated. (There are men nearby.)

"Ah reek them, tay," said a hitherto silent female with a fine-grained hide. "Some ur th' ones 'at hang aroond wi' us sometimes but thaur ur others 'at ur unknoon. There's also somethin' else wi' them 'at Ah dornt recognize." (I smell them, too. / Some are the ones that hang around with us sometimes but there are others that are unknown. There's also something else with them that I don't recognize.)

"Mebbe they're efter thes stranger," said the snow-headed male. "He micht just be haur fur protection." (Maybe they're after this stranger. / He might just be here for protection.)

"Ah doobt it," boomed one of the other males. "He looks loch he can tak' caur ay himself." (I doubt it. / He looks like he can take care of himself.)

"Weel, they seem tai be holdin' their distance," said the dark skinned male. "We'll bide fur Sionn an' 'en we'll fin' it everythin', Ah suppose." They all seemed to be in agreement and settled in to wait for the missing dragons. (Well, they seem to be holding their distance. / We'll wait for Sionn and then we'll find out everything, I suppose.)

Harry, of course, caught about half of this. He did gather that a dragon was on the way that should be able to communicate with him, so, not wishing to inadvertently put his claw in his mouth, he remained silent and just observed his surroundings. It would seem from the generally consistently charred nature of this part of the shore that it was a favorite haunt of the herd. He didn't see any bones or carcasses laying around, though, so he assumed that they ate somewhere else. He heard sheep mentioned so he guessed that Sionn was pursuing his lunch.

Within five minutes, Harry saw two dragons flying up from the south. Just as before, the distance didn't seem to be very great but they were also much smaller than he knew they must be. Leading the way was the female with the kind eyes. Following just behind her was a male who moved just a bit less fluidly than the other dragons. Perhaps he had been injured in the past or perhaps there was another reason. It wasn't Harry's highest priority to find out so he just waited with the rest of the herd.

The female landed first with the male touching down just to her left. Harry decided that, as the newcomer, it would be up to him to offer the first greeting. "Good morning," he said, trying to speak in as friendly a voice as possible. "My name is Harry Potter."

"Good morning, Harry Potter," said the dragon. "I am Sionn. Have you been introduced to everyone, yet?" He waited patiently for a response.

"No," replied Harry. "We seemed to have a language problem that I believe everyone hoped you would be able to help us with."

"That's understandable," said Sionn. "I am the only one old enough to remember the old lair. We all spoke English there. I had to learn Scottish when we came here. The others, of course, were born to it. Let me introduce you to everyone." He started with the female on his right. "This is Caoimhe," he said. "She is my mate."

They proceeded around the group. Harry learned that the male with the booming voice was Osgar. His mate was Sorcha, the female with the nice smile. Snow-headed Finnean was the mate of the light-skinned Ceana. Finally, Ciaran was identified as the mate of Eithne, who had the fine-grained hide.

"I'm pleased to meet all of you," said Harry to the group. He then decided on full disclosure to avoid having them feel misled when the truth came out. "I would like to let you know something about myself before we get to know each other a little better. I'm not really a dragon."

Sionn looked at Harry for a moment before saying, "You have a pretty good costume, then." He told the other dragons what Harry had said. The reactions varied from confusion to laughter. Harry felt that a demonstration would be necessary.

"Let me show you," he said. "I should probably check in with my friends, anyway. I'll be right back." With that, he flew the two hundred yards to where the other wizards sat waiting. Just before touching down, he changed back into a man.

The reaction of the dragons was immediate. With shrieks of rage, they all flew up and began to circle the group. The sounds and emotions behind them, although no longer intelligible to Harry, were unmistakable; they were infuriated.

"I didn't think they would take it this bad," said Harry in alarm. "They all seemed so nice."

"Nice?" exclaimed Charlie. "We've been planning how to best rescue you when they attacked. I'm surprised they haven't killed you already."

This confused Harry. He had been having quite a nice chat, as far as was possible with the language problems. He never felt threatened by the Blacks, at the very least. "Let me go back and talk to them some more," said Harry. "Just keep your distance and don't do anything rash."

"You're the one who's rash," said Tom. "I tell you, Harry; they were on the verge of ripping you apart."

It was as if they were observing two different events. Harry didn't know what to think but he didn't feel afraid of the dragons. "Just let me talk to them and everything will be fine." With that, he took a few running steps and leaped into the air, changing back into a dragon at the last moment.

The mood of the other dragons instantly changed from openly hostile to mild interest. Harry flew up to rejoin them.

"Eh'd ne'er hae believed it if Ah hadnae seen it wi' mah ain een," said Osgar. "Hoo did ye ever learn tae change intae a cheil?" (I'd never have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. / How did you ever learn to change into a man?)

"It main be some sort ay a trick," offered Ciaran before Harry could answer. "Wizards ur knoon fur their deception. He main be foolin' us intae seein' heem as a dragon, reit noo." (It must be some sort of a trick. / Wizards are known for their deception. He must be fooling us into seeing him as a dragon, right now.)

" 'at was nae trick when he flew by us," said Sorcha. "Ah coods feel th' pull ay his passin'." (That was no trick when he flew by us. / I could feel the pull of his passing.)

"Please, let me speak," pleaded Harry. He only caught about half of their words but he could sense they were reappraising their initial impressions of him. The others seemed no less disturbed than before but they seemed to calm down enough to allow him to explain himself. He flew back to the beach and landed, followed shortly by the others. When they had gathered around, Harry began.

"I'm a wizard who is also what we call an animagus," explained Harry. "It means that I am able to turn into an ani, I mean another type of creature besides a man." He had almost put his claw in it by calling them all animals. "I am involved in trying to overthrow an evil wizard called Lord Voldemort who, along with his followers, is trying to take over the magical world in Britain. My mentor, a great wizard named Albus Dumbledore, helped me to become a dragon. He thought, and I agree, that a dragon is by far the most powerful of all possible choices and this form should help me fight against Lord Voldemort and his minions."

Sionn explained all of this for his friends. He then automatically translated everything that Harry said into Scottish and everything anyone else said into English so we don't have to do that anymore.

"You say you are fighting another wizard?" asked Finnean. "Why would coming here help you with that? Do you expect us to help you?"

"Oh, no," said Harry. "The truth is that I'm new at being a dragon and my friends and I were wondering if I would be able to talk to other dragons. My school is only a hundred or so miles from here so we decided to drop in for a visit and see if we could have a chat."

"It took a bit, with Sionn's help, of course," said Sorcha, "but it seems that you have achieved that goal. Did you have further plans or will you leave us now that your little experiment is finished?" She graced him with another of her enchanting smiles but he sensed that she would be disappointed with him as a dragon if he just flew off.

"I ddin't make any other plans in particular," answered Harry, "but that was mostly because I didn't know what to expect. You all seem to be very nice, though, and I wouldn't mind visiting with you for a while, if you don't mind."

"If this is likely to be a long conversation," said Sionn, "I'd suggest we all return to the south meadow so we can snack a bit while we talk. I, for one, wouldn't say no to hearing your tale. We have little enough news, here, as you might expect."

"That would be fine with me," agreed Harry. "I'd better let my friends know what's going on. For some reason, they thought that you might be violent."

"It's them that are prone to violence," said Ceana. "I've tried to communicate with them once or twice and it was all 'Run for your lives!' or 'Aim for her eyes!' You'd have thought I was attacking them. They weren't very friendly at all." The other dragons agreed with this, emphatically.

"I don't understand it myself," said Harry. "The first time I changed back into a man, I also thought that you were about to attack. My friends even thought you were threatening me when I was a dragon." He though a moment and added, "I wish Hermione were here. She could figure this all out."

"Who is Hermione," asked Eithne. "Is she your mate?"

"Yes," said Harry. "We've been married for a couple of months, now."

"Why didn't you bring her with you?" asked Caoimhe.

"She was taking care of some other business with our prisoners," said Harry. "She can't turn into a dragon, anyway."

"We could still have talked a bit," offered Ceana. "With Sionn's help, of course."

"Actually," said Harry, "and I don't understand this part, but even though we can understand when a man talks to us and we are speaking in the same languages that humans use, all that I or any other human hears is roaring from dragons. I've never tried to talk to a man as a dragon myself, though, so I don't know if that holds true for me, as well."

"Why don't you try it now before you let them know where you will be going?" asked Osgar. "I think that we might have the solution to many questions when you return."

"I'll be right back," said Harry. He flew off and returned to his human friends, once again. This time, however, he just landed nearby. "Hello, Oliver. Hello, Charlie. Can you understa..." He broke off quickly as he observed them all backing away, shouting and drawing their wands. Returning to his normal form, he approached them on foot.

"What in the world are you doing?" he asked, indicating their wands, mostly still pointed towards him.

"That's what we'd like to be asking you," answered Lowell. "You came in nice enough but after you landed, you looked like you were going to go for the kill. We were just getting ready to defend ourselves." No one contradicted this account so Harry was forced, once again, into confusion.

"I was just checking to see if you could understand me when I was talking to you as a dragon," explained Harry. "Osgar thought that it might help explain things if I tried."

"Who's Osgar?" asked Tom.

"He's the big, friendly chap who has the good speaking voice," said Harry. At their continued silence, he added, "He's Sorcha's husband. She's the one with the sweet smile."

"Oh, that one," said Hunter, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah," said Harry, not noticing the sarcasm and believing that they had finally understood him. "Anyway, they've invited me to the south meadow for lunch and to chat a bit. It seemed rude to turn them down so I'll have to stay for a while, at least. If you lot have other things you need to be doing, feel free."

Oliver, oddly enough, had the least trouble with this situation. He knew Harry was a friendly sort and it seemed from his reports that the dragons liked him well enough. The others, however, had a different view of the possible consequences of a dragon inviting you to lunch.

"It just doesn't seem that it would be safe," said Charlie. "Dragons are unpredictable. Once in a while, one of ours will just come at us, roaring in rage, for no reason at all."

"Just like I did when I landed a minute ago?" asked Harry. He thought that he understood the problem.

"Yes," agreed Tom. "You looked fine for a bit and then you just went nutters."

"That's the same thing that Ceana said," said Harry. "She tried to be nice and say hello and was attacked. There must be some sort of a spell that makes dragons seem on the verge of tearing you apart when they talk." He thought about this some more and asked, "Jumper? Could you understand me when I spoke while still a dragon?"

"No, Harry Potter," replied Jumper. "Jumper is thinking that Dragon Harry Potter is being wanting to hurt the other wizards with Jumper and Sleepy. Jumper is being ready to stop Dragon Harry Potter when Dragon Harry Potter is being Harry Potter, again."

"I think that confirms it," said Harry. "There is definitely some sort of a spell at work here. The other dragons and I weren't doing anything threatening at all but it sure looked like it when seen by a non-dragon."

"Dragons have been attacking humans for hundreds of years," said Charlie. "How do you explain that?"

"If I had to guess," said Harry, "I'd probably say that the dragons just said something like 'Good morning' and the humans freaked out and attacked them. They would think that they were defending themselves, of course, but the dragons wouldn't know that. The dragons would then react to this and you would have your average battle. From what I can tell, if you don't try to kill them, dragons are basically nice, friendly creatures."

Naturally, the professional dragon handlers, whose numerous burns and scars told a very different tale than the one offered by Harry, had a little trouble accepting this reality. Oliver, oddly enough, had some more legitimate problems with Harry's plans.

"I should remind you, Harry," said Oliver, "that you have a few other appointments to keep, today. The Minister and his granddaughter, for one. I believe that you are also expected to help determine the next few steps when the other blokes like me are sorted out."

"And we also have to make an appearance at the Burrow," reminded Charlie. "We promised Mom to not be too late."

"I'm surprised you're so nonchalant about whether or not we stick around here," said Harry. "Now that you know these dragons are just folks, you'd think you'd like to get to know them a bit better."

"I might have to get a bit more proof of their intentions before I try to rub their tummies," said Charlie. "Besides, I'm taking a few weeks vacation so that I'll be around for Hagrid's blessed event."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry and Oliver, together.

"Didn't he tell you?" asked Charlie. "I suppose he didn't have the opportunity. Anyway, he showed me the egg you gave him and I told him that I think it'll hatch in a week or so. It seems to be about ready. As you can imagine, we normally don't get a front row seat since Mama usually is a bit overprotective."

"Hagrid has a dragon egg that's about to hatch?" asked Tom. All three of the resident dragon handlers were surprised by this.

"Sure," said Charlie. "Dragon Boy, here, gave it to him for his birthday."

"I didn't think that was legal in Britain," stated Lowell.

"I was able to secure him a license," explained Harry. "It's a little dragon, anyway."

"Just a ten footer," agreed Charlie. "Australian Reef Skimmer. If Hagrid can summon the discipline to follow some simple instructions, he'll have the only tame dragon in the British Isles. If he acts like he normally does, he'll have a bloody terror on his hands."

"I'd probably put my money on the 'bloody terror' side of that," said Oliver. The others grunted their agreement.

"I suppose I'd better let the gang know that I won't be staying for lunch, today," said Harry. "I would like to spend a bit of time with them before we leave, though. Maybe an hour or so, just to build up a relationship of some sort. With your permission, I'd also like to visit with them from time to time." He made this last request to Tom.

"Of course," replied Tom. "We might put off testing this new theory of yours until you get back."

"What theory?" asked Harry.

"The one where dragons aren't violent, just misunderstood," answered Tom. They all laughed at this.

"I tell you," said Harry, "they're all quite nice." He had to smile while he said it but really; the dragons weren't half bad. Turning to Oliver and Charlie, he said, "Anyway, if you'd like, Jumper and Sleepy could take you to the Burrow and Hogwarts. I'll apparate to, let's see..." Harry had to think of his next destination. "I suppose that Hogwarts would be next so that I could check in with Hermione. She'd probably want to come with me to the Burrow, anyway."

"That sounds like a plan," said Charlie. Wood agreed and with short farewells to the resident dragon handlers, they popped off with the elves.

Harry also bid his leave and in a few moments, Tom, Lowell and Hunter watched as their charges, plus one, headed off over the hills towards the south.

Shortly after eleven o'clock, Hermione stood before the now less crowded group of prisoners in the Astrology classroom. The true believers, those that had freely joined Voldemort with no regrets were back in their cells. The two groups left were mainly composed of normal, everyday people who had the misfortune of being enchanted by Voldemort in order to fill his dwindling ranks. Now cured of that spell, they sat waiting to hear what would become of them. Their number was forty-three and they chatted among themselves, discussing what Hermione had said about the underlining reason behind any of their questionable recent activities. They had begun forming several impromptu group therapy clusters as they tried to come to grips with some of the things that they had done as Death Eaters.

The rest of the group sat to one side. They were the ones who had joined, or at least inquired into joining, the Death Eaters but had been pulled further into the darkness than they would have been comfortable with had the spell not been used. Jordy was in this group. There were only six others in this category so their fate would have to be determined as circumstances and opportunities arose. Hammer sat nearby, perhaps out of a general distrust of anyone who even considered voluntarily joining the Death Eaters.

"If I could have your attention for a moment," said Hermione. "I had hoped that Harry would have returned by now so that we could discuss your options but he is still away. From what I have heard, you could use more time, anyway, to reconcile yourselves to your recent behavior so it might be just as well. For the immediate future, it would be very unwise to return to your homes." There was a general murmur of disapproval to this statement. "The reasons that we need to take this step are to protect you from recapture and to protect ourselves from having our headquarters discovered if you were recaptured. We have set up several dormitories that are capable of housing up to ten people each. That would have been two per room but for the time being we don't need that much space so you will each have your own room in groups of five. These units will have a door so you will be able to walk around a bit. We also have an exercise area that will be open to you."

"It's still almost an hour until lunch," she continued, "so I would recommend that you mingle a bit and try to decide on your groups. After lunch, we will try to get everyone moved in and we can discuss your further options this afternoon; assuming, of course, that Harry has returned. This group," she said, indicating the somewhat repentant Death Eaters, "will not have to choose their flat-mates. They will also be in a dormitory but will not have a door at this time."

A middle-aged witch approached her almost immediately. "Miss," she said, "I need to go home and see after my mother. She lives with me and isn't really able to take care of herself."

"How long have you been away?" asked Hermione.

"Almost two weeks," said the witch, nervously. "She can't cook for herself or anything and I'm afraid it might already be too late. I have to go find out if she is well."

Hermione thought for a moment before saying, "I think that we can have an elf or two escort you to your home. I must insist that you return, at least for the time being. As you can see, there are more people involved that just you and you already know enough for our location to be discovered if Voldemort recaptured you."

"I understand, but I can't just leave her in our house, all alone," protested the portly woman. "She needs to have someone around."

"We have some flats here for families," replied Hermione. "It might be best to just bring her here and we can set you up in one of them." She had to look around for a moment to see which elf might be available. Deciding on one, she called, "Tripper. Could you come here for a moment?"

Tripper was only twelve feet away so he didn't bother apparating. "Yes, Mistress Hermione. What can Tripper be doing for Mistress Hermione?"

Hermione didn't immediately reply to Tripper. Instead, she asked the witch, "What is your name, please?"

"I'm Pat Rich," she replied.

"Tripper," said Hermione, "please take Miss Rich to her house. She and her mother will need to be relocated to one of our flats. Arrange for any clothes and other necessities to be moved as well." She then noticed something and decided to make an announcement to the room at large.

"If I could have your attention for just another minute," she shouted. The room quieted down to a murmur. "Thank you. I should point out that, now that you have all been cleared, we will begin to replace your left arms. We won't be able to put the original arms back since they have the dark mark but the replacement will look the same. It might take a day or so since I don't know if Harry can do that many all at once."

"Harry?" asked a nearby wizard. "Harry Potter? I heard that it was Madam Pomfrey that did that."

"Me, too," agreed several others. The murmurs increased.

Hermione said, "We used the story that it was Madam Pomfrey in order to limit the amount of time Harry would have to spend replacing limbs. She can't do it. Harry can, though, and he will take care of all of you as fast as he can. Please do not spread this around since it is supposed to be a secret."

Hermione noticed as Minerva and Rufus entered the room so she walked towards the front desk to join them and to chat a moment with Luna and Dougal. She noticed immediately that Minerva had her arm through the Minister's.

"Did you two find the time to finish your inspection of our flats?" she asked, suggestively.

"Yes," said Minerva, "and they were very nice, indeed. We've already flooed the head of the protective custody program and she is going to try to have everyone ready to move in sometime tomorrow."

"That's fine," said Hermione. Turning to Rufus, she said, "I've just sent one of our cleared prisoners home to get her aged mother. I don't know how many others will need to be accommodated so if you could let me know how many of the flats you will need as soon as possible, we can start to make plans for the future."

"I can tell you that, right now," aid Rufus. "I just spoke to Miss Geneva and asked her that very question. I misspoke earlier when I guessed that there were six or seven families. The truth is we have eleven currently in our care."

"And mine makes twelve," commented Hermione. "Only two spares. Wood could move into a dorm if necessary, I suppose. Still, we probably should look into expanding our facilities."

"Depending on the number of people in each family," said Minerva, "it might be possible to double up compatible families. Some of those flats were pretty large."

"I agree," said Rufus. "That four bedroom monster could take quite a few."

"Harry could add some space to some of the smaller ones, as well," offered Hermione. "We did that to most of our cells."

"How did you do that?" asked Rufus.

"We found an abandoned coal mine earlier this summer and Harry uses the space to make up for the space he adds," explained Hermione.

"I know how it's done," said an exasperated Scrimgeour. "I wanted to know how Harry does it. I used to have a tent maker in my area when I was working the streets. They used a team of four wizards over two or three days to make one magical tent. That's why they cost so much."

"Well," began Hermione, "I've never tried it myself but Harry just transfigures the cells to the real size he wants and then he waves his wand a bit while he walks around on the inside until it's the distorted size we need. He doesn't seem to have any trouble with it." She looked a bit confused by Scrimgeour's incredulity.

"Try it yourself sometime and you'll understand," said Rufus, laughing. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, all things concidered."

"That's true," agreed Hermione. "I'm starting to take his abilities for granted so it just seems normal to me, now. All I know is that Grampa told him how to do it and he didn't have any trouble at all. It was just like the limbs."

"I guessed on the limbs," said Scrimgeour. "If he wasn't dead, I'd believe that I knew who 'Grampa' was, too."

"You probably do," agreed Hermione. "We have a portrait of him that helps out with information or advice from time to time."

"I see," said Rufus. "I was just chatting a bit with his portrait in Minerva's office, myself. It's odd, isn't it? We seem to get along a lot better now that one of us is dead."

"Not as odd as how well you, Harry and Minerva are getting along," commented Hermione. "Especially the two of you," she added with a smirk.

Minerva seemed to beome suddenly aware of how obvious she was by hanging onto the Minister's arm and tried to modify her position. Rufus, however, wasn't bothered at all and adjusted his arm to take her hand as well as arm.

Hermione decided to let the Headmistress off the hook and turned her attention to Luna and Dougal.

"Were you confident on all of your reads, Luna?" asked Hermione.

"With the exception of the seven people you already know about," said Luna, indicating Jordy's group, "I'd have to say I'm as confident as could be expected. I don't really feel comfortable doing this, you know." She looked it, too.

"I know that," said Hermione. "I do appreciate that you are still willing to help us. If it makes you feel better, all of these people," she held up her hands to indicate everyone around them, "will have much better conditions while they are here. You really are making their lives a lot better."

"I'm glad about that," agreed Luna. "Will you be needing me any more, today?"

"I don't believe so," answered Hermione. "Perhaps Harry might have some questions for you. He isn't here right now, so I suppose not."

Luna and Dougal left the room. Rufus then quietly asked Hermione, "Wasn't Harry supposed to be back by now? He left over two hours ago."

"I was under the same impression," answered Hermione. "Perhaps it was farther to Muck than we thought or he was delayed in other ways. If he isn't back by lunchtime, I'll send an elf to check on him."

"I hope he get's back soon," said Rufus. "Greta is looking forward to another ride." He looked at McGonagall with an expression that Hermione thought seemed to indicate that he was looking forward to a romantic ride through the hills of Scotland with Minerva, as well.

"Let me guess," said Ciaran, "you've never eaten a sheep before, have you?" He had a half amused, half disgusted look on his face as he watched Harry dealing with his first, disasterous attempt to each a whole sheep.

Harry spat out a few more clumps of wool and hide before managing to retort, "What was your first clue?" He then reached up with a foreclaw and attempted to pick his teeth. After visiting for about an hour, the other dragons became a bit peckish and started to have lunch. Not wishing to eat in front of a guest, they encouraged him to join them. Pulling the wings off a fly would have seemed downright compassionate compared to what he had done to that poor sheep. Perhaps if he had had the other dragon's years of practice, he wouldn't have made such a mess of it.

Sorcha had pity on him and said, "Just exhale with a wide-area flame and you'll clear up the mess in your mouth." Harry complied and, after indicating his thanks, she continued. "The trick is to pick up your sheep gently without biting into it. Then you take a deep breath and blow at a high heat for about ten seconds. This will burn off the wool and most of the hide. It'll still be fairly juicy with just a bit of crunch from the bones. Scrumptious."

"Thanks, Sorcha," said Harry. "I feel sort of guilty about that sheep."

"Don't worry," she replied, "we have plenty. Now, just pick out a fat one and do like I said."

Harry would have just as soon not inflicted himself on another sheep but he didn't want to offend this group so he looked down on the flock. Maybe he could find one that was picking on the others. Looking around, he didn't see any signs of a troublemaker. There were no black sheep in this flock. They were all as peaceful as, well, sheep. Sighing to himself, Harry did as he was told and picked out a fat one. Picking it up gently, he did his best to ignore the bleating and just hoped that it would be over quicker for this sheep than the last one. That goal, at least, was achieved since the struggling stopped in less than a second from the beginning of his exhale. He counted to ten and then took a bite.

From his reaction to his first successfully eaten sheep, the herd of Blacks discovered an important distinction between Harry and themselves. To the Hebridean Blacks, two normal sheep would be a feast. Harry, on the other hand, was over twice their height and correspondingly much greater in girth and stomach capacity. Within twenty minutes, Harry had consumed six more sheep.

"These are simply delicious," raved Harry as he looked around for his next snack.

"Perhaps you should hold off for a while," suggested Caoimhe. "You won't be able to get back into the air."

Harry was about to share his newfound information regarding dragon flight when an unexpected visitor arrived.

"Harry Potter!" shouted the flame-haired woman when she located him. "What, exactly, is taking you so long? According to Charlie, you should have picked up Hermione and been at the Burrow an hour ago."

"Bloody hell," muttered Harry. "I forgot all about that. Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"None of your back talk," answered Molly. Although the dragon speech enchantment was as effective for her as anyone, she had raised six sons, including Fred and George. She had become very confident in her ability to impose her will by the inflection of her voice. Looking at the other dragons with a disapproving glare, she said, "You can talk to your new friends later. Bill said he needs to talk to you, as well, but he has to leave before supper so get a move on." She put her wand to her necklace and, after a muttered word, she was gone.

"Who was that?" asked several voices at once.

"She's like my mother," answered Harry. "I was supposed to pick up my wife and go to her house for lunch. I'd better be off."

"You let a human woman boss you around like that?" asked Finnean. He was smirking a bit, as were most of the other males.

"Several of them, in fact," replied Harry. "I'd better go. I'll come back soon, though. I want my wife to meet you all."

"That would be nice," said Sionn. "I'd like to hear more of your tale."

"Fair enough," said Harry. "I'll bring dessert next time." With a final wave he was off, wondering just how many tons of treacle tart he would need when he returned.

Author's Note: Sorry it's taking so long between chapters. Still on seven day work weeks. Also had a bit of writer's block but it seems to have cleared up. Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter up quicker.

Dad


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56 – Getting Down to Business

October 5th, 1997

Harry, for the first time in his life, had a hard time keeping up to his usual standards with regards to Molly's cooking. Eating seven sheep will tend to have that result. He did manage to finish his usual double portion of treacle tart, though. Neville was talking with the twins in what Harry assumed was a very serious conversation about the possible repercussions that Neville could expect should he exceed the maximum level that the twins deemed appropriate in his and Ginny's physical relationship. Unfortunately, this was below the minimum level that Ginny had established some time ago. Harry was glad, not for the first time, that he had survived his dating experience with Ginny.

Harry, sitting as he was at a picnic table under an apple tree with Ron and Hermione, then turned his attention to watching as Honey helped Greta help Molly with collecting the dishes and general cleaning up after lunch. Rufus had agreed to allow his granddaughter to go with the Potters, after being informed that several of Harry's commandos would be joining them. Greta, at least, wouldn't be cheated out of her ride. Harry glanced around at his bodyguard. They were patrolling the perimeter of the Burrow's farmyard, ever vigilant to any trouble. Some of them watched as Molly and her crew did what would normally be their work, but they knew their duties did not include dishes, today.

"I have some news from the goblins," whispered Bill. He joined the three teens discreetly and sat down.

"That's great," said Harry. "I've been wondering what was taking them so long. What was the reason for the big delay?"

"It's probably the most confused I've ever seen them about whether or not to agree to a business deal," answered Bill. Although he acknowledged the presence of the other two, including his own brother, it was to Harry that he was speaking. "I think they don't know what to make of you. On the one hand, you've managed to inflict some serious damage on You-know-who; but on the other hand, you're just a school boy. If they openly aid you, they might have to suffer some serious consequences down the road if you should end up losing this war."

"They might be thinking that's more of a possibility than ever now that the Ministry took such a hit at Azkaban and our group also suffered casualties," agreed Harry.

"Exactly," said Bill. "Ragnok has asked to meet with you in secret. He wishes to know exactly what it is that you expect from the goblins and exactly what they may expect in return. He made it very clear that he expects whatever arrangements that might or might not be made to remain secret. You may take my word on it that you don't want to violate his terms."

"Since I want the exact same terms," said Harry, "I don't think we'll have a problem. When does he want us to go and see him."

"He doesn't want to see 'us'," said Bill. "He wants to see 'you'. That was made very clear. In fact, that arrangement has been ensured by the method he has provided to bring you around." At this, he handed Harry a ring.

Harry examined the ring closely. It was gold with a band of some sort of a deep red mineral inlaid into the outer circumference.

"I'll guess this is a portkey," said Harry. What else could it be?

"Correct," said Bill. "It will warm up ten minutes before your meeting. Make sure that you are alone when the transportation charm kicks in. Just before your ten minutes are up, the outer band will jump to around five hundred degrees for a couple of seconds so make sure that your other fingers aren't touching it. That's to make sure that no one comes with you."

"Devilishly clever, these goblins," mused Harry, putting on the ring. "Do you know approximately when this will all happen?"

"Sometime early this week," answered Bill. "That's all they would say. I'd recommend that you have your requests figured out as soon as possible. I must stress that if word of any part of that meeting, including the fact of the meeting itself, gets back to them after they've expressed their wish for it to remain secret, they won't be pleased; and you want them to be happy with you, believe me."

"I get it," said Harry. "The three of us will need to discuss our requirements with our core team but they must know we'll have to do that. I'll stress the secrecy part to everyone. If it wouldn't be a conflict of interest for you, are there any suggestions or pointers you might have in regards to negotiating with goblins?"

"Number one," said Bill, "is don't promise or agree to anything that you aren't sure that you will be able to fulfill. They really hate people who don't live up to their bargains. Second, don't show weakness or desperation. They'll take advantage of you if they think they can get away with it. Third, never take their first offer. They like to haggle. Fourth, and maybe the most important, be prepared for unusual terms. They haven't asked for anyone's firstborn for decades but it isn't like they wouldn't do it. No matter what they say, remember that they aren't joking, so don't laugh. Have all your socks in one drawer when you arrive and everything should work out fine."

"Did they say why they only wanted to see Harry?" asked Hermione. She didn't seem pleased at being excluded.

"I'd guess to limit any witnesses," said Bill, shrugging. "It's like I said, they don't want to choose sides. It's been pretty disasterous for them every time they've been involved in a wizard war so they tend to prefer remaining neutral, these days."

"So how can they help me without choosing sides?" asked Harry.

"I'd say that as long as you stick with defensive measures, you'll be fine," answered Bill. "Portkey wards and the like should be no problem along with concealment charms. As long as you don't ask for any offensive curses or anything that would specifically identify them as being on your side, you should be able to get what you want; provided, of course, that you have the gold to pay for it."

"That won't be a problem," said Harry. "I just need to protect our headquarters and a couple of related places. I wouldn't know where to begin with anything offensive."

"Just as well," said Bill. He stopped talking as Honey and Greta came over. Molly was close behind.

"Miss Honey said that I could have a ride, now," gushed Greta. She had been very helpful with picking up after lunch and felt she deserved her reward.

"She did?" asked Harry. He looked at Bill.

"That's all that I had, anyway," said Bill.

"Well, then, we'd better be off," said Harry to Greta. He stood up but Greta stopped him.

"Not a dragon ride, Harry," she said, dismissively; Miss Honey and I want to go on Ron's flying blanket." She beamed at Ron as she said this.

Ron gave her the 'thumbs up' and rose on his carpet, a simple feat since he had been sitting on it during the discussion. He scooted back, allowing Greta to sit in front with Honey climbing on behind. After everyone was situated, they took off over the woods nearby the Burrow.

At two o'clock, Harry, Hermione and Greta were preparing to leave. Before they could do so, Molly stopped them.

"Just a moment, Harry," she said, indicating the three of them should take a seat. "I'd like to make an announcement," she boomed, silencing the rest of her family. "I finally know what I want for my birthday." Everyone paid attention since it was difficult to come up with a present for Molly that didn't involve a boxcar load of yarn.

"Unfortunately, for the time being, only Bill, Percy and Harry are in a position to provide me with one," said Molly. She then added, "Or Ron, I suppose. I had better not get one from Ginny, though." She gave Neville a sharp look that made him cringe behind Ginny, "and I really don't want one from you, Arthur, although you are obviously capable."

Everyone looked around, hesitant to even offer a guess. Finally, George said, "Well, what is this mystery present that only your 'good' children may obtain?"

Molly walked over next to Hermione and said, "I want one of these," as she put her hand on Greta's head. "Soon. Preferably by my next birthday."

"I'm trying my best," said Harry. He then pointed at Hermione and added, "She's the one that's not cooperating."

Hermione stood up and said, "I beg your pardon. It's not like a gumball machine where you put in your money and out pops a baby."

"Maybe you're not turning the crank the right way," suggested George.

"I think we're doing everything right," countered Harry. "Although she's limited me to two tries a day." Hermione punched Harry in the arm and stood up.

"Just two?" asked Bill. "How could you expect any results with that kind of a half-hearted work ethic?"

"Right you are, Bill," said Honey. "Why Ron and I manage at least..." She stopped herself, realizing that this was not the type of contest she wanted to be openly competing in.

"You should'ent be zoe mean to your 'usband, 'ermione," said Fleur, coming to Honey's rescue. "E will get zee wandering eye."

"I think it's too late for that," said Hermione. At everyone's stunned silence, she said, "Don't worry. I know that Harry's perfectly faithful. I only meant that he seems to be a bit more than slightly smitten by a large lass he just met named Caoimhe."

"She's a dragon," explained Harry, "and she's already taken. I only said that she was very nice and helped teach me the proper technique to each sheep."

"The only way I've seen dragons eat sheep is whole," said Charlie, queasily. "Did your chums have a different method?"

"No," replied Harry, "but you shouldn't knock it until you've tried it. Once you get the hang of it, it's hard to stop."

"Exactly how many sheep did you eat?" asked Hermione, shocked.

"Six or seven, I think," said Harry, trying to remember. "There was one other that I had a bit of trouble with. If done properly, they're wonderful."

"Well, that explains your lack of appetite, today," said Molly, relieved that her cooking hadn't degraded.

"I always save room for treacle tart," said Harry. "That reminds me; I promised to bring dessert next time. How much should I take?" He looked around the room as if expecting anyone to know.

"From what I saw of your friends," said Molly, "I'd guess about a hundred pounds each for them and whatever you think you could handle."

"About a ton, then," said Harry. "I'll put Win, er, my eldest female elf on it right away." Winky had become so protective of them that both he and Hermione had to consciously avoid saying her name lest she think she was being summoned.

"Now that that's settled, we really have to get going," said Hermione. "Ron? Honey? You'll be back later tonight, then?" Ron and Honey would not be able to accompany Greta and the Potters to Scrimgeour's house since they would have to walk for a few blocks and the flying carpet would be a bit conspicuous.

"I'd say by five," said Honey, looking to Ron for confirmation. He nodded and Honey said, "We'll see you at supper, then."

With that, Harry apparated Hermione and Greta to just outside of the Ministry of Magic, the closest point they knew to Greta and Rufus' house. Two of the six elves, under invisibility cloaks, immediately followed.

"I live on this street," said Greta, pointing down a fairly wide, yet still cobblestoned street. "My school is on the way," she added. "Would you like to see it?" She showed the pride that all kindergarteners had for their school.

"I'd love to," said Hermione. She had taken a liking to the young girl and didn't mind this small indulgence.

"Follow me!" shouted Greta, exuberantly starting to lead the way.

The three of them walked hand in hand, Greta in the middle, down the sidewalk. As they walked, Greta told them all about her school, the other children in her room, her favorite piece of playground equipment (the swings), her teacher, the project she had started in class, the story her teacher was reading to her class and her favorite part of the day; music time. She sang a bit for them and Harry thought he could almost recognize the tune as they arrived at Westminster Primary School No. 14.

It was a fairly cool October afternoon but there were still a few other children playing on the equipment as one or more parent sat nearby, either watching, reading or just enjoying the day. "There's nobody on the swings!" exclaimed Greta when they entered the school grounds. She let go of their hands and ran over to the swing set. She was having a bit of difficulty getting into the seat so Harry set her in place when he caught up.

"Push me, Harry," commanded Greta. She was trying to make the swing move but, as is often the case with five year olds, couldn't get the proper rhythm.

"Ready?" he asked, taking his position behind Greta. Hermione sat on one of the swings, nearby. "Hold on," said Harry as he gently pushed Greta. Greta laughed as she swung back and forth with Hermione and Harry joining in; her excitement and merriment contagious.

After a few minutes, Hermione stood up and said, "My turn," and she took over pushing Greta while Harry took her place on the swing.

"You swing, too," said Greta to Harry. "We'll see who can go higher." She laughed as Hermione began the competition and pushed Greta to new heights.

Harry grabbed the chains and faced forward but didn't do anything, at first. After a few seconds, he leaned back, pulling on the chains. This propelled him forward but he didn't change his orientation at the apex of his swing and lost most of his momentum on the way back. He then pulled himself to a sitting position and tried again with similar results.

"Really, Harry," laughed Hermione, "have you forgotten how to swing?" She laughed again until she caught sight of the expression on his face. She let Greta coast for a bit while she went over and bent low to his ear. "What is it, Harry?" she asked, quietly.

Harry didn't reply for a second. His face was a vivid red and he averted his eyes. He then spoke, very softly. "I've never gotten a swing to work," he explained. "I couldn't figure it out on my own, as a child, and the other children were afraid to help because of Dudley and his gang." He turned away from her, embarrassed at not being able to perform a task which was, quite literally, child's play.

Hermione had to pause a moment to allow her anger at the way Harry was treated while growing up subside. She then went back behind Greta and pushed her a bit more while thinking. Harry was about to stand when Hermione said, "I think it's high time you learn to swing on your own, Greta. Harry and I'll show you how to do it and then you try. Okay?"

Greta beamed at Hermione and said, "Ready, Herminome." Well, she was getting closer.

"All right," began Hermione, winking at Harry. "You saw how Harry pulled back on the chains to go forward?" Greta nodded. "Well," continued Hermione, "what he was doing was shifting his weight towards the back. Since the swing wants to hang with the most weight at the lowest point, it moves so that Harry's body was where the swing was. Once it started to move, it kept moving right on by due to something called momentum. Momentum is why something moving, like Harry, you, me or anything else doesn't just stop all of a sudden. If there is mass, or weight, then it wants to keep moving once it starts." Harry wondered if Hermione had it in her to get to the point before nightfall.

"Eventually," continued Hermione, "you will stop going forward as you get higher. That's gravity trying to pull you down. When you get as far as you can, lean forward and tuck your legs under your seat. You'll go backwards. When you get back as far as you can, start over by leaning back. The trick is to lean back while you go forward and lean forward while going back. Got it?"

"Maybe you should start with something easier like explaining Cricket," suggested Harry.

Hermione looked confused for a second before she realized that she was being mocked. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said sweetly. "I was keeping it at a level appropriate for a five year old. I'll tone it down a bit for you, later."

Greta laughed and said, "I understand, Harry. Just watch how I do it." With that, and after only a couple tries, she was soon swinging at an acceptable level. She was afraid to fully lay out on the forward portions of the routine but had managed to get a fairly good arc going.

Harry watched closely and, with a few aborted attempts of his own, was soon swinging right along with Greta. They both swung happily for a few minutes. Eventually, Harry allowed himself to slow to the point where Greta exceeded his height.

"Hermione, help me!" shouted Harry. "Greta's swinging higher that I am. Push me, Hermione! Push me!" He then acted like he was trying to speed up, intentionally disrupting his own timing.

This had the effect of causing Greta to increase her efforts. Harry laughed while watching her and the Fawkes amplified happiness of Harry pushed the little girl to the point of near hysterics. Worried that her lack of concentration might cause Greta to let go of the chains, Hermione had to jump in and play the wicked witch by reminding them that they had to get Greta home.

"I think we'd best be off," said Hermione. "There are a lot of people waiting to talk to you, Harry."

Harry, who had for the first time in his life managed to play on a playground without fear of harassment, felt the absurdity of the moment. He was an adult, married man, with responsibilities to see after numerous prisoners, refugees and warriors under his command and his primary desire at the moment was to continue playing with a five year old girl. Allowing himself the indulgence of a quick laugh and smile before rising, he filed the situation away under things he intended to do the moment that Voldemort was finally defeated.

As they walked back towards the street, they noticed a man with a familiar face looking over the fence. He was flanked on either side by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Jack Dawlish.

"Grampa!" shouted Greta, running up to him with her arms raised high. Grampa didn't hesitate to pick her up although he did wonder how much longer he would be able to perform this particular duty.

"Good afternoon, Minister," said Hermione as she and Harry followed. "I didn't think that we were so late that you'd come looking for us."

"I have a pretty good idea where Greta is most of the time," explained Rufus. "We're also pretty close to our house so you'd naturally come under our regular surveillance." He looked around. "Not that I'm questioning your abilities to safeguard the light of my life," he said, "but I believe you were going to have your own security along on this trip. What happened?"

"They're here," replied Harry, "even though you can't see them."

"I checked the area not two minutes ago," argued Kingsley. "Invisibility cloaks won't help with those maps you gave us and I saw no one around but the muggles."

"Nevertheless," replied Hermione, "they are here. Perhaps a demonstration is in order." She smiled and turned around, talking very quietly, as if to herself. A few seconds later, she turned back around.

"If you would be so kind as to look at your shoes," said Hermione, smiling. "Don't try to move your feet, though," she warned.

Kingsley skeptically pulled apart the sides of his full length trench coat that he wore in lieu of robes when out in the muggle world. It took him a moment to notice anything but when he did, he started to laugh. His shoelaces were neatly tied together. Crouching down, he quickly set them right. "I take it that your commandos don't show up on your maps, then?"

"Only wizards and witches are visible," confirmed Harry. The twins and Remus had mentioned that characteristic while working with Dobby on developing the maps. He then thought about the subjects of their conversation and said, "I don't think we should discuss this further while in the open like this, Rufus. Now that Greta is in good hands, we should probably be heading out. I expect we have a busy afternoon ahead of us."

"Yes, indeed," agreed Rufus. "I've caused some of that activity myself. I have no doubt that the families involved will be thankful. It looked like three or four dozen of your prisoners will be changing status, as well."

"That's right," said Hermione. "Then there's the long term problem of increasing our available housing."

"Of course," said Rufus. "Has your medical practice picked up, as well?"

"That's been leveling off," said Harry. "We're down to one or two patients per week, now."

"That's probably a relief," said Scrimgeour. "And how has all of this fit into defeating Voldemort?"

Harry was a bit confused by the question, at first, but answered, "It hasn't really been that much help. We hope the disenchanted ex-Death Eaters will help to propel us along that path a bit more. We have a few other things to do when we have time, as well."

Rufus looked at both Harry and Hermione before speaking. "Let me give you just one bit of advice," said the Minister of Magic. "Don't forget your main purpose. You can't do everything by yourself and you'd be foolish to try. You have many competent people surrounding you. Start to use them. Tonks and Hammer should be able to train the ex-Death Eaters. Mary Geneva should be able to help someone get set up helping the displaced families. Although you've never told me your main objectives, I doubt that either of those activities are part of them. Believe me; when I took over as Minister of Magic, I wanted to control everything, including you and Dumbledore. I couldn't do it and neither can you. Just find yourself some trusted friends like I did and let them do their jobs so that you can do yours."

Harry thought about that and said," I know that you are correct, Rufus. We almost fell into that trap shortly after we arrived at school. Once I helped the first boy, though, it was only a matter of time before his new leg became known. In that case, our cover story with Madam Pomfrey prevented too much of our time being taken up. In that task, of course, I had to be involved. If we stay heavily involved in these new activities, though, we'll collapse from exhaustion." He glanced at Hermione for comment.

"I might not be the correct person to talk to about limiting our objectives," she laughed, "but Rufus is right; we'll have to delegate anything not directly related to our main goal. We made that choice with a relatively unknown person to head up our surveillance unit. Our friends are just as competent and trustworthy."

"Thanks, Rufus," said Harry. "We'll take your advice as soon as possible."

"That's good," said Rufus. "We all need you to remain focused. Be sure to let me know if either I or the Ministry is in a position to help."

"We will," said Hermione. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, "of course we'll try to be available to baby-sit, if you find yourself visiting Hogwarts more often."

"That might be a possibility," agreed Rufus, smiling. "At our age, you shouldn't pass up on the chance for a little companionship."

They all said their goodbyes with Hermione getting an extra hug from Greta and then Harry and Hermione, followed shortly by Jumper and Tripper, apparated back to Hogwarts.

October 5th, 1997 – Late Afternoon

The general meeting of the inner and mid-level circle took place in Honey and Ron's apartment. This was mostly due to the inclusion of Hammer Coldiron, the only member of the group who had yet to visit the Fortress of Solitude. He had, however, agreed to assist Tonks in training any members of the innocent ex-Death Eaters that wished to help the Ministry by doing clerical and other, low danger tasks. His personal recommendation by the Minister of Magic was enough to get him an invitation but it was the chit chat with Luna and Dougal during the earlier session with the Death Eaters that carried the most weight. Luna told Harry and Hermione, after their return, that Professor Coldiron was not hiding anything and that they could trust him.

"Good afternoon," said Harry, opening the meeting. "I believe that everyone knows everyone else with one exception. Martha, allow me to introduce Professor Hammer Coldiron. Professor, this is Martha Murphy." They exchanged their greetings and Harry continued. "Martha is in charge of our ongoing surveillance program. She has a team of about twenty-six or so working for her and it is due to her efforts that we know the names of approximately four-hundred and seventy-five Death Eaters as well as their major travel patterns."

"We have just increased to thirty workers, now," corrected Martha, "but they are mostly idle, at the moment. Since the attacks, we haven't seen anyone in the known locations. I expect that they will have to venture out at some time, though, or else go hungry."

"It's hard to say what they'll do now that the majority of the original Death Eaters are back with Voldemort," said Hermione. "Rufus mentioned that some unmarked shoppers were out and about the afternoon of the raids so they might use that sort for general purchases and low level reconnaisance. Eventually, they'll either have to come out in the open or go crazy from the isolation."

"It is also possible that Voldemort will do the same thing that we have done and remove the Dark Marks," said Harry. "I believe that Martha is already geared up for that possibility."

"We are," agreed Martha. "That's why we have the extra help. We're checking everyone we see and comparing their names with those of the known Death Eaters."

Ron raised his hand and quickly wrote, 'We were discussing recapturing the old crew as we find them but that would only net us a few of them. I think we should allow them to get comforable for a bit until we have the opportunity to catch at least a dozen at a time. That way, if they do keep them at home afterwards, it won't be that bad.'

"A dozen Death Eaters aren't all that easy to capture," put in Hammer. "That would take a pretty large strike force to be effective and safe."

"We wouldn't do them in a single group, Professor," said Hermione. "We have the ability to monitor many different locations from a distance; that's what Martha and her team does."

"And we happen to have a fairly effective group of commandos," added Harry. "You've met a few of them this morning, I believe. Slider, here," he indicated the red robed elf next to Minerva, "is the leader of the house elves who are helping us. Ten of them are able to make their own raids during which they can engage and capture Death Eaters."

"I see," said Hammer, smiling. "I believe that this all helps to explain why the four of you don't seem to find the other students to be much of a challenge in class." He included the fourth member of their class team, Dougal, in his remark. This had the effect, naturally, of confusing everyone.

"Four?" asked Minerva. "Who's the fourth?" She, along with a few of the others, looked at Hammer and waited for a response.

Harry, surprisingly enough, caught on immediately. "That would be Dougal," he said. "He's on our team."

"I think I'm just doing well by association," said Dougal, also knowing the team that was being referenced. "It's basically Harry's show with Ron and Hermione offering the most support."

"You and Luna are also important," said Hermione, surprisingly behind the curve of understanding. "Your perspective and inside information are quite helpful, from time to time."

"I was talking about our class with Professor Coldiron," corrected Dougal. "Although, I've been of little enough use to this group, too, so far."

I expect that might be changing," said Hermione, "which brings us to one of the major topics of this meeting. Harry and I were just talking with Rufus a bit ago and he recommended that we put you lot to work doing a bit more of the subordinate tasks that we have acquired."

"Isn't that what we have been doing?" asked Martha.

"Well, you have been doing just that, of course," replied Harry, "but we've picked up a bit more than we need to be dealing with. Now, as most of you know, almost none of you know what we're really doing." He thought that didn't come out quite right. "What I mean is, the real purpose behind the surveillance that Martha is doing and the reason we need so many prisoners is top secret. That is what Hermione, Ron and I are supposed to be concentrating on accomplishing. Along the way, however, we've picked up a limb replacement practice, an employment service for ex-Death Eaters and about a dozen displaced families. This will lead us into planning and constructing more flats so that we will have some available when needed. Now Tonks and Professor Coldiron are already planning on working with any willing ex-Death Eaters with training so that they can free up fully qualified aurors for more important work. Professor Coldiron, would you be willing to also spend a bit of time with Slider and our commandos for a bit of advanced training? They're pretty good right now but your expertise might offer a few new wrinkles."

"I'm still spending a fairly large amount of time getting used to this whole teaching concept," replied Coldiron, "but I could probably swing a few hours per week."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry. "Slider, please see Professor Coldiron after the meeting to schedule some times when the Hogwarts Free Elves could get together with him."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider.

"The next potentially pressing issue is these families that are in the protective custody program. Eleven will be arriving tomorrow. We currently have enough flats but there aren't that many to spare. We'll need to add some more. I'd like you, Remus, and you, Minerva," said Harry, looking at each in turn, "to take over that program. I will make a key available to a Gringotts vault that holds enough gold to meet any needs. If a location on the grounds of Hogwarts would be available, we could save a lot of galleons on windows. Otherwise, we'll stick with the enchanted variety. Just make sure the flats are homey. I don't want anyone to feel like they are in prison."

"I've already ordered play areas, both inside and out, to be set up for the children," said Minerva. "The elves are handling that and arranging security and transportation for each family."

"We'll also need to see to any medical requirements," added Hermione. "One of the ex-Death Eaters had to fetch her mother. She has some sort of dementia and needs to be cared for. I placed them in one of the flats but I think that you should check her out yourself, Poppy." She made this request directly to the nurse.

"I should probably give them all a once over," said Poppy. "All we did when they arrived was check for broken bones and major injuries." She thought for a moment and then said, obviously in jest, "I should probably ask for a raise."

"That's a good point," said Harry. "I've thought about this from time to time and I think we should probably look into a fair wage for the part time members of our group."

"I was just kidding, Harry," said Poppy, shocked. "I don't mind helping out these poor people." She certainly didn't want to come across as a mercenary.

"Money is not a problem," countered Harry. "As I've mentioned, we have access to an almost unlimited supply of galleons. Our full time compatriots, Remus and Martha, are compensated for their work. There are some other people who do research and development for us from time to time who are also compensated. Come to think of it, we should be paying Tonks, as well. Sorry, Tonks. We'll have to take care of that. Anyway, the point I am making is we are not a charity. As Professor Coldiron pointed out, you all have other things you could be doing."

"Of course we do, Harry," said Minerva, "but preparing our lesson plans pales in comparison to fighting Voldemort or helping out his victims. We never paid anyone in the Order of the Phoenix, you know."

"I agree with Harry, oddly enough," said Hermione. "It would be different if everyone was working for free. As Harry said, Martha, Remus and Tonks are all full time. They still have personal expenses and deserve to be paid. If everyone is treated fairly, and by this I mean compensated, there would be less chance of any hard feelings."

There were some sullen looks around the table but everyone realized that the point was valid, if not totally proven.

"I don't know if it will turn out to cause more trouble that it solves," said Harry, "but let's just try it for a while. If problems arise, we'll revisit the subject. Remus, I'd like you to be in charge of setting up the rates for the part-timers." He then added, "And make sure that Tonks is put on the payroll." Turning to Tonks, he added, "I'm sorry for not thinking of this earlier, Tonks, but you've not only been working for free, you've taken a leave from your paying job. That just isn't fair."

"I didn't really care, one way or the other," said Tonks. "If you'll recall, I was Sirius' favorite cousin. He left me enough to keep the wolves from the door." She looked at Remus and said, "Present company accepted, of course."

"I'm going to start docking you for the werewolf jokes," said Remus, grimacing.

"Sounds fair enough," said Harry, laughing. "Now, let's see. Luna, I know you weren't very comfortable doing it but may we continue to count on you to help with the sorting and interrogations?" She had seemed to be a little agitated after the morning's session.

"I'd prefer not to talk to so many people all at once," said Luna, "but I will help when I am able."

"Thanks, Luna," said Harry. "Dougal, I assume you will continue to provide security and support for Luna during her shifts." He did not ask this as a question. He was just verifying his instincts.

"Of course," said Dougal. "I will do my best to be available when needed." He glanced quickly at McGonagall but recovered before it became obvious.

"That's fine," said Harry. "I think that's... Wait a moment. Where's Ginny and Neville?" He had not noticed their absence in the crowd. "Didn't they come back with you two?" Harry addressed this last question to Ron and Honey.

"Yes, they did," replied Honey, "but Neville was a bit shaken up and Ginny took him somewhere to calm his nerves."

"What happened?" asked a concerned Minerva.

"Neville got a double dose of Weasley," explained Hermione. "All of Ginny's brothers as well as her parents were interviewing him off and on all weekend. For some reason, they think she needs protection. Personally, ..." Hermione let the last thought pass unspoken.

"So what will you be doing now that the rest of us are doing your work?" asked Dougal, abruptly changing the subject.. "Are you going on vacation, or something?"

"No," said Hermione. "We'll be traveling around the country, visiting all of the places that Martha and her crew have been monitoring."

"And that is different from a vacation because...?" asked Luna. She had been working on her sense of humor and it was developing quite nicely.

"Well, for one thing," said Harry, "Hermione will be with us."

"WHAT!" exclaimed Hermione as everyone else laughed. "What, exactly, is the problem with me being along on this trip." She wanted to question him a bit more intensely but there were too many witnesses.

"Nothing, dear," said Harry. "Well, maybe just the fact that you get a bit enthusiastic when researching new places." At her hardening glance, he added, "Not that it's a bad thing to know what type of aggravate they used when pouring the footing for the Butter Cross in whatever town it's in."

"Dunster," said Hermione, hotly, "and I do not blather on about footings. It's called 'aggregate', by the way." She thought a moment and added, "I think the Butter Cross is resting on a granite slab, anyway. I think you might mean the Barochan Cross. They did some restoration work on that a few years ago and..."

"I withdraw the question," interrupted Dougal. "I agree that it won't be a vacation."

"Thank you," said Harry. "Now, is there anything that we need to take care of before we start our trips?"

"We have forty-three one-armed ex-Death Eaters that need your services," said Tonks.

"Some of the flats might need to be modified a bit if we want to combine compatible families," added Minerva.

"We need to get together with the small group and discuss your upcoming meeting," alluded Hermione, cryptically. She hoped that Harry would remember why he was wearing an extra ring.

"What meeting?" asked Harry, falling short again.

Hermione sighed. "I'll tell you at the meeting with the inner circle," she said.

Late that night.

Harry walked into the office of the Fortress and Hermione, Honey, Tonks, Remus and Ron all sat up from their earlier, more relaxed, positions. Minerva, of course, was already seated with the proper posture. "Only one more batch to go," sighed Harry as he sat down in his chair.

"Thank goodness," said Honey. "I don't know about the rest of you but I'm ready for bed." She made it even harder for her companions to resist an innuendo laden reply by taking Ron's hand and smiling lovingly at him.

"I'm with you, Honey," said Harry. "I don't understand why this is so hard on me. I've replaced dozens of limbs and was never this worn out." He rubbed his eyes, attempting to stimulate their continued usefulness.

"I believe it has to do with the number of the limbs," suggested Hermione. "It's like running up one flight of stairs versus ten. Eventually, you'll run out of energy."

"At least you'll be done in one day," said Tonks. "Everyone will be able to fluff their pillows properly."

"True," agreed Minerva, "but it's too late to modify the flats to accommodate multiple families. That will have to be put off until tomorrow."

"Right," said Harry, recovering from his sixth session replacing the arms that he and Hermione had removed the previous week. "So what else should I ask for when I meet the goblins?"

"So far, we have portkey wards and the means to bypass them, anti-apparition wards that work on elves, and the means to bypass them, as well," said Hermione. "Maybe they'd be willing to install some of those one-way doors you've mentioned." She remembered Harry's description of the consequences when someone other than a Gringott's goblin tried to open certain vaults.

"I suppose everything should be on the table," agreed Harry. "Perhaps they'd have a few suggestions of their own if I gave a few general clues on our situation."

"It would be fine to fill them in to a point," agreed Remus. "They are fairly trustworthy of other people's secrets since that is what they expect for themselves."

Everyone sat silently for a moment in thought, trying to think of anything addional. After a few seconds, Tonks spoke up.

"It sounds like you have the goblins worked out as much as you're likely to get," said Tonks. "Is the next item on your list to return to checking out the Death Eater sites?"

"Almost," said Harry. "We intend to leave most of the interrogations to you and Remus but I'd like to talk to Wormtail myself."

Remus grimaced as he always did when Pettigrew's name came up. He had not confronted his old friend, yet. In fact, Remus had consciously avoided the B-Block cells since his other life-changing antagonist, Greyback, had also joined the ranks of their prisoners.

"I don't envy you that job, Harry," said Remus. "Personally, I don't think I'd last five minutes before I ripped his traitorous throat out." He was definitely not kidding.

"I'm not looking forward to it, either," said Harry, "but he was there while Voldemort was still just a spirit. He helped him regain his body and has been with him ever since. It's logical to assume that at some point, they might have at least tried to use a horcrux."

"Well, he's had time to reflect on his options now that the newspaper stories came out," said Tonks. "Basically, he can help you or wait to die horribly and slowly at the hands of an enraged Voldemort."

"Exactly," said Hermione. "At this point, we aren't sure if he would have had to just use a horcrux or if he had to cash one in. If the latter, then our job just got easier. Since he made virtually no progress until Wormtail joined him, it is reasonable to assume that he'd know all about it."

"That's the plan, at least," said Harry. "We'll have our first serious chat tomorrow morning."

"I believe that Luna has classes," said Honey. "Shouldn't you wait until evening?"

"I'll have her check up on anything important," replied Harry, "but I'm going to assume he'll be cooperative, for now. As we've already mentioned, he is currently better off being our friend that Voldemort's."

"Friend? What does he know about friendship?" snorted Remus. All eyes turned to him but he remained silent. After a few moments, the group, by mutual consent, decided that the meeting was over and started to break up. Harry sat quietly for a bit longer, contemplating Remus' outburst. Harry remembered that Peter Pettigrew was one of the original marauders. He was a friend to not only Remus, but to his father and Sirius. They grew up together as near brothers yet Wormtail had betrayed them. As he thought about it, Remus' continued fury at the rat became easier to understand. If Ron betrayed him, he'd never get over it, either.


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57 – Worm Tale

October 6th, 1997

The next morning, Harry and Hermione sat together in Charms with Ron floating nearby. Today's lesson involved the relatively tricky charm necessary to maintain the structural integrity of a durable material after transfiguration into a normally less robust object. They were testing their feather's ability to hold up a brick when Professor Flitwick strolled over.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," he said as he approached. "Good morning, Mr. Weasley. I see your feather is having a bit of a hard time with your brick." He was correct. Although originally an iron rod, the feather was showing more than a bit of flex with the brick placed on the end. In a lower voice, he said, "I had an epiphany last night."

"I think Madam Pomfrey might be able to help you with that, Professor," said Harry. Ron nodded sympathetically but Hermione and Flitwick both groaned.

"Go on, Professor," said Hermione, grimacing at her husband.

"Well, I was contemplating the problem you and I have been having with bypassing the school's anti-muggle charms without removing them. Now, blood is of major importance in the magical world and the wards reflected that. We've been concentrating on either blocking the effects of the wards on specific muggles or fooling the wards into thinking that a muggle has magical blood flowing through his veins, which is, as you know, their major requirement. Last night, it came to me. The required magical blood doesn't necessarily have to belong to the muggle. I believe that if anyone's magical blood were somehow mixed with the blood of a muggle, that would satisfy the wards and the muggle would no longer be affected."

"I see," said Harry. "I suppose it would be worth a shot."

Hermione looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Was that a pun?"

Harry replied, "Sorry. I'm just trying to inject some humor into the subject."

"I'll be 'injecting' something in a minute, Potter," stated Hermione.

"Miss Grain..., Mrs. Potter! Please!" said Flitwick, appalled. "Let's try to return to the topic of this conversation."

"I'm sorry, Professor," said Hermione. "I believe that what is written on the chalkboard will help us get back on track." Flitwick turned to look at the board.

Whack!

"I'm afraid I don't understand," said the diminutive educator as he turned back towards the students. Harry, he noticed, was rubbing the back of his head.

"Sorry," said Hermione. "I'll check with Madam Pomfrey. She should be able to determine the blood types of Harry's relatives. Then we'll try a simple injection and see where that gets us."

"They won't turn magical themselves, will they?" asked Harry. The thought of his magiphobic uncle suddenly becoming his own worst nightmare had ramifications that he didn't want to contemplate.

"Oh, no," replied Flitwick. "Only werewolves and vampires are able to transfer their natures in that manner. This would only confuse the wards of the school for as long as the blood remained in their veins."

"Very well," said Hermione. "We'll check with Madam Pomfrey after classes. Thank you, Professor. I hope this works. My parents have also expressed their wish to see Hogwarts." She stopped as their feather finally gave up and the brick hit the table. "Well, we'd better get back to the lesson."

After Charms, Hermione went on to Runes while Harry and Ron popped into their office. One of the side benefits of a flying carpet versus a wheelchair was the former being much easier to control during side-along apparition.

"I'll just check with Martha to see if anyone's about," said Harry as he opened the door to the elf's observation room. "Have you got a moment, Martha?" he called.

"I might be free sometime next Thursday afternoon," said Martha, seriously. She then laughed and said, "Just kidding. I think we're all getting a bit punchy after watching these maps for days, now, and still not having any signs of the Death Eaters. You'd think that someone would have to go out sometime." She did seem a bit exasperated.

"I guess that answers my question," said Harry. He had wondered if any of the newly released Death Eaters had grown tired of basically exchanging one prison for another. Apparently, Voldemort had given them sufficient incentive to remain close to home. "We still need to remain vigilant in case he unleashes them all at once, for some reason."

"You know elves," said Martha. "You or I would have gone nutters by now but the lack of activity doesn't affect them. Personally, I feel that when things do break loose, it'll be like you were suggesting; all at once."

"In the meantime," said Harry, "I plan to have a chat or two with some specific prisoners. Wormtail, in particular, might have a few insights."

Martha paused a moment, apparently thinking. "I suppose he might," she finally said, aware that she had given non-verbal hints of being about to speak. She then remained silent.

"What is it, Martha?" asked Harry, perceiving her reticence.

Martha continued to remain silent before saying, "I'm just not sure if anything is 'It', Harry. I spent over a month with the Death Eaters as their, well..." She trailed off. Harry, and Ron, of course, waited for her to gather her thoughts.

"Anyway," she continued, "we have a few of them here now and I can handle that. They are prisoners and won't be able to hurt me, or anyone else, ever again."

"That's true for Wormtail, as well," said Harry. He gathered that Wormtail had been one of Martha's tormentors but there seemed to be more to it than that. "Is there some difference that we need to know about?" Perhaps Martha had an insight on him that would be useful.

"I doubt that it's important," answered Martha. "It's not even much of a difference. Basically, I'm not sure if I should hate him or loathe him."

Harry assumed a rare serious demeanor. "Martha," he said, "I know what you've been through but I can't imagine how it was for you. I don't want to ask you to tell us anything that might bother you. I will ask, however, that if you feel up to letting us know why Peter Pettigrew was different than any of the other Death Eaters, that you please do so. It might give us an edge when interrogating him. Then again, it might not. Just say it's none of our business and I'll let it drop right now." He waited for her response.

Martha took a breath and then shrugged, as if to herself, before saying, "I suppose that my role while with the Death Eaters isn't a secret. The difference with this one called Wormtail is that he wanted privacy while raping me. He'd come down when he was in the mood and pick one of us and we'd have to go with him to his room. I think I was there seven or eight times. After he was finished, he'd try to talk a bit. I don't really know what he was after but I never responded much so he eventually gave up on that. Anyway, he'd let me stay for an hour or so while he wrote or read and then he'd take me back to the basement. I assume it was the same with the other girls. I don't know how to explain it. It wasn't like he had any regrets or anything or seemed sorry for what he was doing but it wasn't quite as bad as normal so you looked forward to it. In our situation, an hour's rest in a quiet room was the best part of the day."

Harry thought about this and said, "He did take you back to the basement, though."

"That's true," replied Martha.

Harry sat in thought. He had been having a disturbing question running through his mind since the end of their meeting. "You both remember how Remus reacted to the mention of Wormtail at last night's meeting?" Ron and Martha both looked at each other before nodding. "It got me thinking about his betrayal of my parents. I thought that it would be about the same thing as if Ron went to Voldemort and helped set up a trap that killed Hermione and me. What would have to happen for Ron to turn on us?"

Ron looked affronted and started to spin his Rolodex before Harry jumped in and said, "I'm not suggesting that you'd actually do such a thing, Ron. I was just wondering why Wormtail did. They were all like brothers. They grew up together, spending seven years in the same dorm room. What could have possibly happened to turn Peter Pettigrew into a traitor?"

'I don't know,' wrote Ron. 'Why don't you ask him?'

"I intend to, Ron," replied Harry.

Voldemort was doing something that he rarely considered; he was going to see one of his Death Eaters as opposed to summoning them to him. Since the man he was approaching was normally the one who would be sent to do the summoning and the fact that his rooms were adjacent to the Dark Lord's suite, it was a minor distinction, at best. He also didn't want any intermediaries speculating on the intent behind this visit. He knocked on the door. This would also surprise those outside his circle but a couple of times where he just walked in had left him emotionally scarred enough to forgo that particular indiscretion.

"Enter," came the silky voice from behind the door. Snape had been working on his master's orders in a roundabout way; he was reading the 'Big Book of Potter', as it was informally know amongst the Death Eaters. It was more of a scrapbook. In it, all of the newspaper clippings pertaining to the boy who lived, a bibliography of any books that mentioned him with any pertinent page numbers, rumors from relatively reliable people, personal information from various sources, including Snape, himself, and other odd tidbits that might be helpful. Snape was trying to find any insights that might be of use.

Voldemort walked in and Snape jumped up. "Good morning, Master," he said bowing low. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" He tried to hide any annoyance that might try to peak around his outwardly humble and patient expression.

Voldemort walked over and glanced at the book on Snape's desk. Taking the chair without so much as a grunt, he turned through the pages for a few moments before saying, "I see that you are studying properly before preparing a plan to defeat our enemy, Severus. It is usually a good idea to review what is known before proceeding. I have, however, a smaller, though more pressing project that should be completed quickly; today, in fact."

"As you command, Master," replied Snape. "What do you wish for me to do?"

"I'd like for you to review our current company of Death Eaters, both old and new," said Voldemort, "and determine which of them are of sufficient ability to be useful. Have a brief talk with those we released from Azkaban last week. It is possible some might have not fared so well and are no longer as capable as in the past. I will also have need of some less than competent, though loyal followers for a fairly simple duty. Those who do not rise to even that level will be used to implement another plan that I have been working on."

"Yes, Master," said Snape. "I'm a bit confused on the competency level you are indicating for the three groups. Perhaps you could give me an example or two." He waited with expectant patience.

Voldemort considered this and said, "I would say that if you used Crabbe's son as a guide to the minimum for the useful group, you would be fairly within my guidelines. As to the mid-level group, Goyle's son, although he did perform his task, was not quite up to the ability that I would prefer. Try to keep that group at a bit above his level. I will need approximately fifteen of the loyal simpletons. That number should be maintained as they are used."

"Used?" asked Snape. He thought a moment before asking, "Would I be correct in assuming that their duty would be similar to the unfortunate Mr. Goyle's?" He showed no expression indicating his opinion on using men in this manner.

"Yes," said Voldemort. "From what intelligence we've been able to gather, the attack last week on Potter and his friends, although not fatal, was at least inescapable. Given the attacking force, he would have left if he could. I can only assume that Mr. Goyle managed to complete his task. Both the mud-blood and the blood-traitor ended up at St. Mungo's. We will continue to implement that tactic until it is no longer effective. I will prepare similar charms for these men and one will accompany any group that leaves our strongholds. They will activate the charms whenever Potter or a member of his inner circle are encountered. The rest of the group will then attack. Eventually, we should be able to reduce their numbers."

"I believe that, tragic as it is for the initiator, it's hard to argue with success," agreed Snape.

"Correct," replied Voldemort. He paused a moment to gather his thoughts before redirecting the discussion. "I must also acknowledge Potter's success against me. Do you recall the conversation we had concerning his probable ability to detect us when near?"

"Yes, Master," replied Snape. "You believed that he has discovered how to use the Dark Mark for that purpose."

"True, enough," said Voldemort. "I have been trying to determine any possible way to remove or mask the marks but, sadly, I was a bit too successful when I created them. I wished for them to be permanent and they are. This is good news for us since we will be able to use them to find our captured men, and therefore Potter's fortress, even if Potter moves them. It is bad news for those of you that I will be, ah, adjusting to secure your anonymity."

Snape didn't like the way this conversation was heading. Reluctantly, he asked, "Adjusting?" His voice cracked a bit but otherwise he tried to remain calm.

"Yes," answered Voldemort. "Let me know when you have sorted my Death Eaters into their competency groups. I wish to proceed with other projects and will need to be able to send my minions back out into the world, unnoticed."

"Yes, Master," replied Snape, bowing as Voldemort headed out the door.

Harry walked alone, or at least alone to the naked eye, towards the cell containing the betrayer of his parents. He had decided to make this visit by himself to see how Wormtail would react. He might feel more free to talk without having several witnesses. Then again, he might decide to try to finish the job begun almost sixteen years ago. That was where Jumper came in. He silently followed Harry under Mad-eye's cloak.

Peter happened to be napping as Harry approached. This was not unexpected since, with the exception of re-reading the stories about his various supposed romantic liaisons, he didn't really have much else on his schedule.

Harry considered the man in the cell and the seemingly unrelated lines of questions he had for him. For the time being, he would concentrate on the business side. After all, finding and ultimately destroying the remaining horcruxes remained his paramount obligation. But after that, and for his own satisfaction, he needed to know 'Why?'. He took Jumper's hand and the two of them popped in together to disguise the fact that there were, indeed, two of them.

The suddenness of the sound shocked Wormtail out of his sleep. He was facing Harry already, so he only had to open his eyes.

"Good morning, Peter," said Harry in a casual, friendly manner.

"Morning, James," replied Peter, groggily. This surprised Harry, although nearly everyone he'd ever met mentioned the striking resemblance. Peter saw the change of expression and the act of wondering at it's cause forced him back into the present.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he said. "You just looked so much like..." He broke off without finishing.

So much for the plan. "So much like my father?" asked Harry. "So much like your dorm mate at Hogwarts? So much like a friend and fellow Marauder? So much like the man who was like a brother to you? So much like the man who entrusted his entire family to you? So much like the man who you sold to Voldemort?" Harry's voice rose with each version.

"Yes! Yes! All of it!" cried the rat. "JAMES!" He fell back on the bed, tears streaming down his face.

Harry didn't know what to make of this. Almost sixteen years after the fact, he still could summon tears? Maybe he was wrong to not wait for Luna but something told him that the grief was sincere. Remorse, however genuine, did not stir any pity within Harry, though.

"Tears?" spat Harry. "Tears for my parents or for yourself, I wonder. The time has past for any repentance, Wormtail."

"I know," replied Pettigrew, freshly exhausted by his intense burst of emotion. "I know. Too late, now. Too late, then." He covered his eyes with his one hand. Slowly, he calmed himself as Harry watched in silence.

Harry was torn. On the one hand, he wanted to know what turned brother against brother. He wanted to know why his parents had been betrayed. On the other hand, he needed to find out what this wretch knew about Voldemort's horcruxes and how he had used them to restore himself. Peter had to have had a major part in that since Voldemort was still merely spirit before being rejoined by his faithful servant. At least one step existed that was unknown. That was no spirit that Wormtail put in the cauldron after Cedric was killed. Was a horcrux involved and, if so, how? Harry made his decision.

"It's too late to help anyone, now," said Harry, "except for me and you."

"Nothing can help me, Harry," said Wormtail, despondently. "You've seen to that." He indicated his one newspaper. He was justifiably convinced that his master would make his death as unpleasant as possible when he found him. "I'll help you, though; on two conditions."

"Aren't we the helpful one?" asked Harry, sarcastically. "What are these terms that you feel you are in a position to dictate?" Harry wondered why Wormtail thought he had any leverage to be making demands.

"Not terms, Harry," said Wormtail, sadly. "A warning and a request."

Harry was unsure how to respond so he indicated Pettigrew should continue.

Pettigrew took a breath and continued. "I will answer any questions you wish," he began, "but don't ask me why I betrayed my friends until the end. When you find out, I'd like for you to kill me quickly." He was shaken by his statement but seemed at ease with his decision.

Harry, on the other hand, wasn't comfortable with just letting that sort of a statement stand unquestioned. "You want me to kill you?" he asked, trying to get some sort of verification of what he thought he had heard.

Wormtail laughed. "Not really," he chucked. "I just sort of expect that you'll have the desire and I wanted to make arrangements for a quick, and hopefully painless death. Try to remember that, please." He leaned back against the wall. At Harry's continued confusion, he suggested, "You mentioned that you wanted to know some things about the Dark Lord's resurgence."

Harry looked blankly at Pettigrew before coming around. "Yes," he said. "Let's see." He tried to regather his thoughts. "After you escaped from us, you somehow found Voldemort. How did you manage that?"

Wormtail looked down in thought before saying, "That was a combination of keeping my ears open along with a bit of luck. I spent the first twelve years after you defeated the Dark Lord as a pet in the Weasley family. I picked up a bit of table talk from Arthur about what his friends in the Ministry had been hearing. Rumors about strange events here and there. Molly's wireless programs, although mostly baseless speculation, also had the occasional bit of information for the knowledgeable mind to pick up. By the time I was Ron's rat, most of the stories were coming from the eastern bloc countries. I didn't have any specific information to act on at the time so I just stayed where I was."

Harry listened to this with interest but found his mind wanting to wander into several divergent directions at once. He was naturally reminded of the first time he had met both Ron and his rat; on the Hogwarts Express at the start of their first year. He also couldn't help but wonder how it would have been to have lived at the Weasley house, as Wormtail, then called Scabbers, had done. He was brought back to reality with the realization that his own childhood experiences left him actually envying a rat.

"You seemed to be a bit more loyal, as a rat," said Harry. "I believe that you bit Crabbe or Goyle for us when we were about to get into a fight."

"There was a bit of loyalty," conceded Pettigrew. "Ron had taken fairly good care of me. Of course there was also the fact that I was locked in a small compartment with several people many times my size. The last thing I wanted was for all of you to get into a brawl and step on me."

"But that didn't last," said Harry. "I take it you didn't know that your master was inhabiting the back of Quirrel's head?"

"Not a clue," said Pettigrew. "I could have helped him greatly but, as you have said, I didn't know. I did suspect something might be up the next year. Unfortunately, rats and snakes don't get along very well so I just let things progress on their own." He looked at Harry, seriously, and said, "I'm glad you made it out of there, Harry. Despite what I've done, I've never wanted to see you or Ron, or Ginny for that matter, hurt."

"You did see that the following year," said Harry. "When Sirius escaped, you knew your days as a rat were coming to an end and tried to leave. You finally managed that by, once again, faking your own death."

"Stick with what works," said Peter, grinning. "I still didn't have anywhere to go. Hagrid's hut was safe from that damn cat, at least."

"I suppose I should thank you for that," said Harry. "If you hadn't framed Crookshanks, Ron and Hermione might have gotten along better. So how did you finally get wind of where Voldemort was hiding?"

"Dumbledore, of course," said Wormtail.

Harry choked before stuttering out, "Du-Dumbledore? How did he find you?" Harry was shocked. Such information, had he known, might have changed everything.

"Calm down, Harry," said Peter. "Dumbledor didn't know I was around. He came by to visit Hagrid and fill him in on the hunt for Padfoot." Harry winced at the reminder that Sirius was once a friend of the traitor. "He mentioned that he was confused by why Sirius wasn't heading for Albania since that was where the rumors said the Dark Lord was recovering."

"So that was how you knew where to look," concluded Harry. "You then made your way to Albania. How did you find Voldemort?"

"If you want to know all of the local gossip," said Wormtail, "ask a local rat. They keep track on just about everything. It didn't take long for me to find out that my rodent brethren were becoming troubled by some snakes that were suddenly becoming much more effective at hunting. After your encounter in the chamber of secrets, I'm sure you'll understand why that was a dead give-a-way."

Harry nodded and then said, "So you stumbled across Bertha Jorkins and the rest, as they say, is history."

Wormtail paused a moment before saying, "Not exactly. Bertha was unfortunate enough to cross our path later on. No, the Dark Lord's first attempt involved one of the possessions of Rowena Ravenclaw."

Harry jumped to his feet, startling Wormtail, who also jumped off his bed. Pettigrew was instantly slammed back into place before either of them could react.

"What's the matter, Harry?" he asked, rubbing his chest to relieve the pain. He was confused on how he had been knocked back so quickly without seeing Harry do anything.

Harry, realizing he could no longer be nonchalant about the incident, said, "I believe that you are about to give me some very important information. Please continue." He sat back down onto his chair.

Wormtail was still rattled but continued. "Let's see. Where were we? Oh, I remember. We went to find Ravenclaw's pendant. The Dark Lord had enchanted it somehow that would aid him in his recovery. Apparently, he had made plans in case something should ever happen to him. The pendant would keep him alive. From what I gathered, that was supposed to be automatic. It must not have worked, though. He was reduced to almost nothing; less that a ghost. He was sure, however, that this pendant would be useful in his plans to return to full function."

"So if he was able to return, anyway, why did he need to do that whole Tri-Wizard Tournament deal?", asked Harry.

Wormtail looked down a bit before saying, "We, or I should say I, had a bit too much trouble trying to retrieve the pendant."

Harry smiled. "Yes," he said, "we noticed that little flaw in his plan. Voldemort put these items in locations that only he or someone very powerful could retrieve them. Unfortunately, when he actually found he needed one, he had to rely on the abilities of others." He looked at Wormtail, curiously. "So what's the major guardian of the pendant?"

"I was told it's a fire golem but I can't verify that from personal experience," said Peter. "The bloody thing is hidden in Mount Etna, of all places." He shook his head in exasperation.

"That's near Iceland, right?" asked Harry. He had heard about Icelandic volcanoes at some point, but didn't have any details.

"No," said Wormtail, succinctly. He was still enough of a marauder to give Harry a hard time.

Harry was wishing that he had brought Hermione. She commented so quickly at times like this that he usually only had to agree with an 'of course' tone to his voice to disguise his ignorance. Let's see. Etna. Sounds German. "Is it near Berlin?" he tried.

Wormtail laughed out loud. "Never say die, Harry." He leaned further back and looked at the ceiling, trying to bring a memory to the front of his mind. "Prongs could never admit he didn't know something, either. He'd usually just keep bluffing along, like you, until one of us, Remus, usually, took pity on him. Mount Etna is in Sicily, by the way."

Harry was really starting to feel weird. He was actually enjoying talking to Wormtail. He knew stories about his father and Sirius that might be unknown to Remus. He was also the one who caused the deaths of his parents and the incarceration of Sirius. He had to remain focused and get the information that was currently flowing so freely. "Okay," he said. "What happened that caused problems at Mount Etna?"

"The Dark Lord," began Peter, "had set things up to protect Ravenclaw's pendant from casual muggles and wizards. The golem was the final obstacle but I couldn't get anywhere near it because the entrance was designed to have a constant flow of lava when entered. You had to maintain a constant freezing charm on it or you'd be either forced out or incinerated. My master could manage this, of course, but I couldn't. He eventually let me stop trying and we returned to Albania."

"And that was when you met Bertha Jorkins," concluded Harry.

"Still wrong," said Peter. "No, we went to Plan B. Apparently, the Dark Lord had more than one of these objects hidden away. The next one was a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff."

Again, Harry jumped up. Wormtail, remembering the last time something similar had happened, stayed seated but raised his arms to defend against another invisible strike. Without any outward signs of possible aggression, however, Jumper did not feel compelled to act.

"Hufflepuff's cup," said Harry, greedily. "Where is it?" He waited with great eagerness.

"Gone," said Peter. "It was slightly easier to obtain but I had a bit of trouble using it. The spells must have been cast wrong since the cup, well, I don't know how to describe it. It was like it had frozen like a block of ice just at the end of the last incantation and shattered into a hundred pieces."

Harry considered this. He didn't need to know where the cup had been hidden, at this point. He did need to know, however, whether or not the soul fragment had been removed. "What was accomplished with these incantations?"

Wormtail considered his answer. "I believe that they somehow transferred his spirit, which was all that was left of him, into the donor body that I had obtained."

"Donor body?" asked Harry. This sounded like it was heading into Dark Magic.

"A young boy that I killed," said Wormtail. "I used the Avada Kedavra because there couldn't be any damage. It was done in the first part of the sequence. I don't really know how the cup figured into everything. The Dark Lord's spirit was free to inhabit the body but he insisted the cup held the important part."

Harry was both repulsed and enchanted. When he had been told that he would want to kill Peter when he found out why he had betrayed his parents, he didn't really believe it. Now, however, he felt almost compelled to kill Pettigrew, right now. The amount of vital information he was receiving, however, forced him to push his emotions even further inside.

"So he wasn't quite restored but he wasn't just a spirit, either," summed up Harry. "Apparently, he knew how to fix that but he needed me for some reason."

"Correct," said Wormtail. "I'm surprised you didn't say it again but that was when we ran into Bertha."

"Finally," laughed Harry. He then remembered how that incident had ended. Bertha Jorkins had had her mind ripped apart by Voldemort and then she was killed. This sobered him up and he redirected the topics to things he didn't know. It was only a matter of time, he suspected, before Wormtail finally told him of some atrocity that would force Harry to end his life. He had to control that impulse until the rat had told him everything. Harry considered what he had been told, so far. From the way Pettigrew was discussing the pendant and cup, it seemed that he was unaware of their status as horcruxes. He made a mental note to requestion him on this point with Luna present but there was something about Pettigrew that made him feel sure that he was being completely truthful in his answers and comments.

Peter, perhaps confused by the extended silence, asked, "Are you up to continuing or do you need to think about everything for awhile, first?" He seemed to be concerned and this, too, caught Harry off guard. Harry did want to continue but he didn't want another unexpected revelation of extreme evil to drive him over the edge towards ending the life of the wretch sitting in front of him.

"Perhaps a break would be a good idea, Wormtail," agreed Harry. "I will probably bring one or two others with me, next time. I must say, you have been very open. You are well on your way towards getting your other hand back." He felt torn about this, being the confessor to such a villian, but Peter was cooperating farther than could have been hoped for and deserved some recognition of that fact.

Wormtail smiled at this. He then said, "Until later, then," and lay back down on his bunk to finish his nap.

Author's Note: This wasn't really the best spot to end this chapter but I wanted you to have something for Christmas and to know I was still alive. Merry Christmas and I'll see you next year. By the way, I'll have Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day off so I should get something written.

Dad


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58 – Pick a title; any title

October 6th, 1997

Later that afternoon, Harry sat with Ron, Hermione and Honey in Honey's suite, discussing the chat he had had with Wormtail. As it had been with Harry, the others were both excited and repulsed. Ron was not, however, disturbed enough to put him off his chocolate cake. To be fair, Harry's cherry pie didn't seem to lose much flavor from the subject, either.

"You say it didn't bother him at all to admit to the murder of a boy?" asked Honey, incredulously. She had had the least amount of experience with the ruthlessness of Death Eaters.

"He said it like he was telling me what he bought at the grocery," confirmed Harry. "I find it disgusting, myself, but you have to remember that that sort of thing will continue until we defeat Voldemort. The good news, and it is really good news, is that we can now account for all of the horcruxes. The locket is in the safe; the pendulum is at Westminster Palace and the pendant is at Mt. Etna. The ring, diary and cup are all destroyed, already. We just have to retrieve them all before we can kill Voldemort."

Ron wrote, 'I'll let you handle that part. We have to leave the pendulum for last since it will be the most noticeable. We don't want to tip our hand.'

"That's true," said Hermione. "We have that being watched, anyway. We also have to determine how to destroy them all when we gather them. There is also the possibility that, despite the destruction of Hufflepuff's cup, that the horcrux itself was unharmed and merely transferred to something else."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry. "I was almost feeling optimistic."

"I'm sorry if I'm being realistic," said Hermione, "but the unconfirmed destruction of a horcrux is potentially worse than not finding it. It's almost impossible to prove that something doesn't exist."

"I know," said Harry, determined not to let the mood slip completely away. "Just try to discuss nargles with Luna." The other teens laughed.

"So when are we going to Mt. Etna?" asked Honey. She didn't get the joke and decided to move the discussion along.

Harry looked at Ron before glancing at Hermione. By the time he turned back to Honey, she had gathered that something was up.

"I gather that something is up," said Honey. "Is there a problem?"

"Er, yes," answered Harry. "Two things, actually. The first is that you work for a living. I guess that wouldn't be a problem on the weekends. The second is, well..." He looked at Ron, again.

Honey caught on. "You don't think that Ron should be going." It was a statement; not a question.

Harry sighed. "No, I don't. I'm pretty sure that Hermione should also be staying behind but she won't." Hermione gave him a piercing look but Harry didn't back down.

"Just think about it," said Harry, facing Hermione at first but turning to Honey and Ron in turn. "According to Wormtail, the first obstacle is a torrent of lava. I have no idea at this point on what happens after that but it ends with a fire golem. I'll be trying to get more information on the rest before we go but I'd really feel a lot better if I was the only one going into the mountain." He hoped they would all see reason.

"We're all in this together," said Hermione, forcefully. "Remember what Rufus told us; 'You can't do everything by yourself.' Both Ron and I aren't afraid of the danger."

"Personally, I'm petrified," said Honey, "but I'm going, too." She grabbed Ron's hand in a show of solidarity.

"I'm not trying to do 'Everything'," said Harry. "I just feel that, in this case, the less I have to worry about, the better. If I have to apparate out of there, I might not have time to grab hold of any of you before it would be too late."

The point was valid but none of the group was ready to admit it. Seeing that they were not immediately countering his argument, though, Harry decided to offer a compromise.

"How's this?" he asked. "We'll all go to Mt. Etna. When we get there, we can study the situation and come up with the best course to follow at that time."

Hermione thought for a second and, with a quick glance at the other couple, said, "Sounds fair. I think that we should pencil in this Saturday for our expedition. That should be enough time to extract what information would be available from Pettigrew. We don't even have to enter the volcano on this trip. It might be a good idea to just gather some information and then come back to work on a plan."

Ron signaled that he liked that course and Honey and Harry agreed. Honey noticed that Ron had finished his cake and offered him another piece. It had turned out that she personally stocked her pantry with treats; baking being her hobby. Theirs was truly a match made in Heaven.

"So tell us some of the details about your visit with the other dragons, Harry," said Honey as she set a fresh glass of milk next to Ron. She didn't want to let them further discuss the compromise on Mt. Etna to forestall Harry from coming up with other reasons to leave the rest of them behind.

Harry looked forlornly at his currently empty plate before answering. Honey laughed and went to fetch another piece of pie as well as refill his glass. Having her husband pampered by such a voluptuous, culinarily competent and seemingly willingly subservient lass as Honey did not please Hermione but she didn't show it lest she accentuate the contrast.

When Honey returned, Harry said, "Thanks, Honey. Well, there really isn't much to add." He had given a quick report upon arriving at the Burrow but there wasn't anything monumental to discuss beyond the surprising fact that dragons were just folks, when it came down to it. "I was planning on asking how they dealt with the wind in their eyes but forgot all about it."

"I suppose when there are a half dozen live sheep to eat, your mind goes blank," said Hermione. She seemed to still be a bit disgusted at the thought.

"You've got that right," agreed Harry. "I never thought that anything could take the place of treacle tart in my heart but those sheep could give it a run for it's money."

"So where do I fit in that group?" asked Hermione. "After the sheep or after the treacle tart?"

Harry thought for a second and then said, "As much as I don't want to have two tarts at the top of my list, I ..."

"WHAT?" shouted Hermione, firing up.

"Don't be that way," soothed Harry. "You made the top spot." He smiled at her, hopefully.

Honey was laughing uproariously, her witch cackle only adding to the chaos. Ron, however, was looking morose with his head leaning on his hands. Hermione noticed this and, forgetting her ire at her husband, asked him, "What's the matter, Ron?" Her concern was evident but destined to be short-lived.

Ron took a moment to write, 'I miss picking on you. It's no fun just watching."

Hermione humphed back into her chair but Honey was more consoling. "Don't feel bad, Ron. Remember how well you did with Madam Pomfrey? You'll be mocking Hermione before you know it."

Harry was too busy laughing to catch the hint but Hermione was not so distracted. "Did you have a good session?" she asked.

Honey replied, "Very good," before looking to Ron for permission to speak for him. At his gesture, she continued.

"As you have probably noticed, "said Honey, "Ron has not had any reduction in his ability to eat." Everyone nodded. "This would indicate that all of the muscles in his mouth are still controllable from his brain. Eating comes naturally to Ron so he doesn't have to think about it. When he tries to talk, however, he has to control the shape of his lips, the position of his tongue, his breath and who knows what else for it to work properly. Madam Pomfrey thinks that the portion of his brain where he learned how to do this was one of the parts that was injured. Harry repaired the brain, though, and if our first lesson was any indication, it shouldn't be too hard for him to learn how to make all of the sounds, again. He is already able to make the 'a', 'e' and 'o' sounds."

"That's great, Ron!" exclaimed Hermione. She was beaming at him. "To tell you the truth," she added, "it hasn't been the same for me, either. I can't tell you what it will mean to me to hear you call me 'mental', again." She gave Ron a hug and he returned it warmly.

Harry was smiling, too. He had never wanted to say it but he truly missed his verbal sparring with his best friend. That brought up another point of optimism. "So, Ron," he asked, "does that mean that you'll get back the use of your legs, too."

Both Ron and Honey lost a bit of the luster from their smiles. Honey replied, "We aren't sure. Ron is able to feel it if you touch his legs. but so far, he hasn't been able to move anything." At the worried looks from both Harry and Hermione as well as a downcast expression from Ron, she added, "It's still too early to tell if that will change. Right now, we're working on the speech. I'm sure that given time, Ron's abilities will all return."

"That's fine then," said Harry, bringing the topic to a close. "Let's see," he said, absentmindedly, "what were we discussing before we started harassing Hermione?"

Ron and Honey had the anticipated blank stare. It was lucky that Hermione hadn't given up on the lot of them. "Actually, I started to harass you about your dining habits with your new friends. Before that, we were discussing the fact that wind in your eyes is the most serious downside of dragon flight."

"Wind comes in second," said Harry. "The worst part of flying like a dragon is thinking about what your idiot wife told you about flying like a dragon. Just don't ever mention your thoughts on the subject and everything else will be fine."

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, both confused and irritated.

"Anyway," said Harry, forcefully changing the subject, "Charlie was just kidding but he might have had the best idea on dealing with the wind. He suggested goggles."

Both Ron and Honey laughed at this. Hermione was still miffed. "I can see it now," said Honey, smiling uncontrollably. "You wearing some huge goggles with a long white scarf, trailing behind." She and Ron completely broke down at this image.

Even Hermione was amused by this. "Maybe for the posters," she amended, remembering Harry's first photo-op at the Burrow. "You might be on to something, Harry. The only problem would be putting them on when you wanted to fly." She began thinking about possible solutions to that difficulty.

They all sat silently for a moment before Ron grabbed his pen and pad and wrote, 'Maybe the clothes thing works both ways.' At everyone's continued silence he added, 'The cloak and Harry's clothes all disappear when he turns into a dragon. Maybe dragon clothes would do the same.'

"It's worth a shot," agreed Hermione, "although I'd like to run that by McGonagall before we try it out on Harry. I'd hate to see some six foot wide goggles become part of his skin."

"True enough," said Harry. "We'll check with Minerva at supper."

Harry sat back in thought at this statement. He finally looked at Hermione and asked, "Weren't we going to ask her about something else?" He rubbed his temples in thought.

Everyone else sat quietly thinking. Eventually, Honey asked, "We just saw her at last night's meeting. Did something come up since then?"

"I met with Pettigrew," said Harry. "I don't think that had anything to do with it, though."

"You aren't thinking about needing to ask Madam Pomfrey about the blood thing, are you?" offered Hermione.

"That's it," said Harry. Ron held up a newer card that said, simply 'Oh.'

"What 'blood thing'?" asked Honey. She, unlike the rest of them, had not attended Flitwick's class that morning.

"We've been trying to figure out a way to bypass the Hogwart's muggle protections and Professor Flitwick thinks that a simple injection of magical blood, from time to time, will do the trick," explained Hermione. "Harry's relatives live here, now, and the castle is currently inaccessible to them."

"I thought they lived in a flat in the Fortress of Solitude," said Honey, confused. She had never been told the original name of their secret lair.

"You haven't figured out where that is, yet?" asked Hermione, incredulously. She realized a moment too late that she probably had been a bit rude in doing so.

"I guess not," replied Honey, defensively. "I know that you use Hogwarts house-elves and it is within apparating distance but, beyond that, I never really gave it much thought."

"I suppose you didn't recognize the hundred foot tall statue of Slytherin," commented Harry, "or the snake-decorated columns."

'The basilisk skeleton in the north corridor didn't jar your memory, either, I guess,' added Ron.

"So I'm not a historian," scowled Honey. "Sue me."

"Sorry," said Hermione, although Harry and Ron didn't seem inclined to join her in apologizing. "Harry thought of using the Chamber of Secrets for a base since the only ones who could enter it before this summer were Harry and Voldemort."

"I see," said Honey. "The only problem was that the muggle repelling and concealing charms of Hogwarts would prevent your relatives from entering the castle, itself. The grounds aren't a problem, I take it?"

"Just in getting in," answered Hermione. "Once inside the gates, they are fine. They can't see the castle, though."

"And Professor Flitwick has come up with a solution to all of that which involves giving the muggles some magic blood," stated Honey, now up to speed.

"Correct," said Harry. "We should be able to ask Poppy about it at supper and ask Minerva about the, ah, ..." He trailed off before looking at Hermione.

Rolling her eyes at her husband's abysmal attention span, she said, "Animagis transformations and the effects of clothing when changing back into a human."

"Right," said Harry. "I want to see if the scarf will work out." Looking at Ron, he excitedly added, "That would be so cool!"

Ron and Honey both nodded in agreement as Hermione shook her head at the lot of them.

October 6th, 1997

After supper

"That's interesting," commented Madam Pomfrey after waving her wand over Harry. "Do you know what type you are, Harry?"

"Ruthless, according to Luna," answered Harry, honestly. Hermione laughed and Pomfrey groaned.

"Your blood type, Harry," said the nurse, patiently. At his shrug, she said, "You're type 'O'. That's good."

"Outstanding, actually," said Harry, referring to the school grading system.

Whack! "So it doesn't matter what the blood types of the others are," concluded Hermione. "Harry is a universal donor. Will the Rh factor be in play?"

"As long as the female recipients are past child-bearing age, there should be no problems," agreed Poppy. "Harry's blood will do for everyone."

"Wonderful," said Harry, flatly. "About how often will my blood have to 'do' for everyone?"

"The treatment," said Poppy, "if it works at all, should last for up to four months. It all depends on how old the blood cells are that we remove."

"How much blood will be needed?" asked Honey. She didn't have a dog in this fight but liked to maintain a certain level of participation.

"We'll start with a quart apiece and see how it goes," said Poppy, straight-faced. Honey was shocked but everyone else laughed.

Hermione said, "There really isn't any way to know, Honey. We don't even know if it will work at this point. I expect we'll start out with a little and see what happens."

"Exactly," agreed Poppy. "When would you like to try out this procedure?" Although Harry was the primary participant, Poppy had addressed this question to Hermione.

"I think that tomorrow afternoon would be the best," answered Hermione. "I'd expect they'd want to look around the huge castle that suddenly appeared before them. We wouldn't be interrupting our classes, that way, either. We're trying out something else before that but it should only take a few minutes; it will either work or it won't." Their brief conversation with McGonagall during supper revealed that during the over fifty years that she had been an animagi, no one had ever placed a ribbon around her neck. To the delight of Harry and Ron, she had suggested the scarf as a safer test object, since it would be more supple and perhaps less painful than the glass plates required in the goggles.

"Shall we say about five o'clock at Harry's Aunt's greenhouse, then?" asked Poppy.

"That should be fine," agreed Hermione and, with a short farewell, led the small group out into the stairwell.

"If there isn't anything else," said Honey, "Ron and I should probably go back to our place and work on making some new sounds."

"Stop baiting us," huffed Hermione. At Honey's confused look, she said, "Sorry. I'm just tired. Good night, Honey. Good night, Ron."

As Ron and Honey flew off on their carpet, Hermione said, "Well, let's go and inform your relatives about the appointment and then head back to our suite to 'make some new sounds', too." She smiled at her husband, mischievously.

"There might be a short delay," said Harry as he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and showed it to Hermione. It read, 'Harry. I need to talk to you tonight, in private. I'll be in the library after supper. Don't talk to me if Ginny is around.'

"What's that all about?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know," answered Harry. "Neville handed it to me at supper while Ginny was talking with Luna and Dougal." He started down the stairs and Hermione followed, deep in thought.

After a minute or so, she said, "Her birthday is already past; Christmas is months away and I don't think Neville would be this secretive about Molly's birthday. They seem happy enough, don't they."

"It's hard to say," said Harry. "Ginny's sort of a double-edged sword as a girlfriend. She's quite the looker and is witty enough but..."

"But she might be a bit of a handful for Neville," finished Hermione.

"What about Neville?" asked Ginny, coming around the corner. She was alone and seemed to be a bit irritated.

"Hi, Ginny," said Harry. "What brings you up here?"

"I was looking for my dear boyfriend," said Ginny, coldly. "He doubled back on me while we were walking back to the common room and I'm trying to find out where he's hiding; and why." She looked at both of them with a fiery glint in her eyes.

"Oh," said Harry. "I, ah..." He didn't know why he had tried to say anything.

"What?" snapped Ginny. She was convinced that Harry knew something. Hermione, however, had enough experience to know that that wasn't the way to bet.

"Why don't I help you look for him," suggested Hermione. She tried to lead the younger witch off towards anywhere but the library.

"What about Harry?" asked Ginny, suspiciously. "Why shouldn't he look, too."

"Harry?" asked Hermione, thinking quickly. Deciding on the only way Harry could follow along with the conversation, she embraced the truth. "He, ah, has to go see his relatives."

"I do?" asked Harry, stumbling because he expected a lie. Recovering fast, he added, "Oh, that's right. We were headed that way when we ran into you. With any luck, by this time tomorrow, they should be able to enter the castle."

"I'll fill you in while we look for Neville," said Hermione. She started off down the stairs. Ginny, also stunned by hearing something verifiable from Hermione, followed with just a quick, confused, backwards glance at Harry.

A short time later, Harry had managed to get to the library. Upon entering, the first thing he noticed was that the almost universal response to anyone who spotted him was the immediate glance behind and near him. Most let it go at that but, happening upon Dougal in a study alcove, he was asked the implied question.

"Evening, Harry," said Dougal. "Where's Hermione?"

"Evening, Dougal," replied Harry. He was trying to think of a viable reason that Hermione should have missed a trip to the library, when he noticed that Dougal was flanked by a pair of first year Hufflepuffs. "Getting tutored?" he asked, smirking.

Before Dougal could answer, the boy on his left said, "Oh, yes! Dougal has been helping me and Marcia learn how to take proper notes." He held up his parchment as proof.

Harry was speechless. He had to shut down for a minute as his mind reset from the surprise. The old Draco would have been as unlikely to become a tutor as Uncle Vernon would to become a jockey. This thought sent him off on a tangential delusion with a vision of his uncle, astride a Clydesdale, plowing down the barriers in the Grand National as the spooked thoroughbreds scattered in terror. As if from a distance, he heard Dougal speaking. When his eyes came back online, he saw Dougal and the two younger students examining him with concern.

"Sorry," said Harry. "My mind took a bit of a holiday, just now." He decided not to pursue the situation; another mystery was, after all, lurking somewhere in the library. "I have to go. Nice to meet you, Marcia; John. See you later, Dougal."

Harry walked on in search of his former dorm mate. Without any luck for the next few minutes, he was surprised when it turned out that Neville was the one who found him.

"Back here, Harry," said Neville in a hushed, but hurried, voice. He quickly receded back into the shadows from whence he came.

This action fit in with the note so Harry couldn't exactly say he was surprised, but if this was simply a bit of girl trouble, Neville was taking it a lot more seriously than Harry planned to.

Following Neville into the darkest, most abandoned bowels of the library, he first took a nearby chair before asking, "What's up?"

"Thanks for coming, Harry," said Neville. "I have something to do that might be dangerous and, as you've managed to live through the same thing, I need your advice."

"Well, now you've got me," said Harry. "Are you planning on fighting a basilisk? A dragon?"

"Nothing that easy," said Neville, waving off those suggestions as insignificant nuisances. He took the chair next to Harry.

Harry thought a moment, "You aren't scheduled to fight Voldemort, are you?" He was starting to wonder what sort of trouble Neville had gotten himself into.

"Of course not," said Neville, shocked at the prospect.

"Worse than a dragon but better than Voldemort", said Harry. "What's your problem, Neville?"

"I, ah ...", began Neville. He gulped and then continued, in a whisper. "I'm thinking of breaking up with Ginny." He quickly looked around, checking for any eavesdroppers.

"Where do you want the body sent?" asked Harry.

Ginny and Hermione were heading, on Hermione's suggestion, towards the greenhouses. They were chosen officially by Hermione as a likely spot for Neville to seek refuge. Privately, she had known that they were about as far from the library as you could get. As they walked, Hermione noted that, although glancing from side to side as they passed cross-corridors and open doorways, Ginny seemed to be spending most of her time looking inwards, deep in thought. They had gone down two floors before Hermione broke the silence.

"Ginny?" she asked. She watched as her friend's eyes unglazed and focused on her.

It took a moment before Ginny was able to turn her mind back towards the outside world. Looking up at the taller girl, she recognized the concerned expression and gave in to the inevitable. She needed to talk and Hermione was as close to her as anyone. A nook was nearby with a small bench. After sitting down, Ginny took a deep breath and began to reveal her problem.

"It's Neville," she began. "I'm not sure if it's working out between us. In the beginning, we seemed to get along fine." She paused, trying to think of the right words.

"But now?" prompted Hermione. The logical part of her brain thought that this was the whole point of dating; to see if you were right for each other. Ginny took after her mother, though, so logic wouldn't be of much use.

"Well," continued Ginny, "it's like he isn't trying very hard with our relationship. I seem to be the one who decides what we're going to do or what we're going to talk about. I'm also the one who has to initiate any, uh, other activities. I want him to take the lead, from time to time."

"You knew that Neville was a bit on the shy side before you started dating, didn't you?" asked Hermione. It was pretty hard to miss.

"Of course," replied Ginny. "It's not that hard to understand, given what he's told me about his grandmother. Still, I thought he'd come out and be his own man, with a bit of time." She slumped back and said, in a lower voice, "It's like I'm the man and he's the woman."

Hermione was shocked. "Surely you don't want someone who'll call all the shots, do you? A boss instead of a boyfriend?" She was hoping that Ginny had just chosen her words poorly.

"Not really," agreed Ginny. "I don't know what I want. Basically, I just want to spend time with him. What we're doing isn't that important. Snogging is fine, for a diversion, but we need more that that. I suggest other activities and it's always, 'sure, if you'd like' from him and off we go. Sometimes it seems like he's enjoying himself and sometimes he isn't but he never says anything, either way. It's the same with our conversations; I start us off and he just follows along, agreeing with whatever I say. Doesn't he have any opinions of his own? Harry and I didn't see eye to eye on everything but we were both able to hold our own in a discussion. Neville just goes along for the ride."

Hermione knew what the problem was. The trick was on deciding how, or if, to tell Ginny. Finally, she asked, "I think I know what the problem is. If you'd like, I'll give my views."

Ginny thought for a moment before replying, "Why don't you start out and we'll see how it goes."

"Well," began Hermione, "I think the place to start is with your last boyfriend."

"Harry?" asked Ginny. "What does he have to do with this?"

"You and Harry had known each other for years and had talked to each other before dating, right?" asked Hermione.

"Sure," replied Ginny.

"And by the time you started dating," continued Hermione, "you weren't too intimidated by the whole 'Chosen One' routine anymore, either, right?"

"He was 'The Boy Who Lived' back then, but still correct," answered Ginny.

"You had grown up with six older brothers plus Molly and Harry had fought Voldemort on several occasions, not counting the dragon and the snake, right?" added Hermione.

Ginny thought she could see where this was going. "I was used to speaking my mind if I wanted to be heard at all and Harry wasn't likely to be intimidated by me after all he's done so we were on more or less an equal footing when it came to expressing ourselves."

"Correct," said Hermione, glad to be finished with discussing her husband's relationship with his former girlfriend. "Neville, on the other hand,..."

"Neville has spent his whole life having his grandmother run things," said Ginny. "I don't believe he's had a girlfriend, before, so he's pretty inexperienced in the whole deal." She looked at Hermione and asked, "So you're suggesting I try to give him 'man lessons'?"

"I'm not suggesting anything," said Hermione. "All I'm saying is that, right now, you and he might not be the best match. I'm sure that 'man lessons', as you put it might be helpful, but only if he wants them. He might be perfectly happy the way things are now. It might be you that has to decide if you don't mind running the show. Maybe the best solution is for the two of you to shake hands and part company." Hermione had to bite her lip at this point. She was pretty sure that the willful lass in front of her had managed more than a handshake with the subject of their conversation.

Ginny sat in thought for a minute. Finally, she looked up and said, "I suppose I'd better put a wand to Neville's head and make him talk to me." She stood up and asked, "So, where are they?"

Hermione sighed. She should have known that Ginny would see through the deception. She, herself, had been saying Neville's name when they ran into Ginny, after all. "They're in the library," said Hermione and started back in that direction.

"Thanks for the advice, Harry," said Neville. "I'll decide exactly what to say tonight and talk to Ginny first thing tomorrow morning." They were walking down the hallway towards Gryffindor Tower.

"I wouldn't put it past her to come up to your dorm but, barring that, I'd have to agree that the morning would be the latest you'll be able to put this off. She's looking for you right now, so I'd get your thoughts in order as soon as possible." Harry hoped that his advice would save Neville. The problem was that, despite being the reason Neville had sought out his help in the first place, Harry had not broken up with Ginny so much as she had released him.

"I plan on it," said Neville. "I'm just not sure how to start the discussion."

"How about 'We who are about to die, salute you'?" offered Harry. As they had turned the last corner, he caught sight of Ginny and Hermione coming from the other end of the corridor. Ginny picked up the pace when she saw Neville, leaving Hermione behind. Hermione didn't follow as quickly but discretely pulled her wand; just in case.

Harry didn't notice Hermione's actions but did watch as Neville turned white. "Courage, Neville," he whispered. "You've faced Death Eaters; twice. Just calm down and everything will be alright." He gripped Neville encouragingly on the shoulder but then backed away a few steps. Watching Ginny, he tried to read her mood. She hadn't pulled her wand, yet, but she still had twenty feet left to go.

"Neville!" said Ginny, sharply.

Neville, to his credit, didn't pass out. He did, however, stumble back as if struck. He stood mutely for a moment, gathering his courage while Ginny stood inches in front of him, hands on her hips; prepared, seemingly, for battle.

"Gi.. Gi.. Ginny, we.. we.. need.. to.. to.. talk," stuttered Neville, shaking like a tree full of leaves.

Ginny maintained her stoney gaze, saying nothing while Neville's bladder held on for dear life. Eventually, she asked, "Why are you so nervous? You aren't scared of me, are you?"

This was such a ridicuous question that Harry had no chance of suppressing his first laugh. He recovered in time to convert it, unconvincingly, into a cough.

Ginny looked at Harry and said, "Perhaps we should find a more private location to talk, Neville." She kept her facial muscles fixed on the side towards Neville but managed a quick wink Harry's way. Turning back to Neville, she strode by him, grabbing his hand as she passed. With a final, panicked look back at the Potters, Neville followed behind to find some place to 'talk'.

"Better you than me, mate," mumbled Harry after Neville and Ginny had passed from sight.

A short time later, Harry and Hermione had returned to their suite. An appointment had been arranged with his relatives to meet the following afternoon to magically transfer some of Harry's blood into their bloodstream. Petunia was the most enthusiastic of the pair but that wasn't saying much. Her main reason for undergoing the procedure at all was to ensure that her choices of decorative plants would be appropriate come next spring. Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, had a mere nodding acceptance of the fact that their flat would be fairly confining once winter had set in to the point of precluding any of his chosen outdoor activities. He would at least be able to take walks of discovery in the castle to pass the time. He was pleased, surprisingly, to find out that the magical methods of blood transfusions didn't involve any needles. While not particularly delicate, he shared the fairly common characteristic of having a fear of needles.

Hermione was eager to judge the effectiveness of Professor Flitwick's suggestion since she wanted her parents to be able to visit her school. It was a new technique, however, and she was more than happy to let Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia be the canaries. If it proved safe, she would move on to her parents.

"I was a bit surprised with your uncle, Harry," said Hermione as they sat on their sofa, relaxing a bit before studying for tomorrow's classes, in Hermione's case, or sorting through the events of the day, which was Harry's job. "He's barely recognizable from the man I had to petrify last month."

"I think that's more Aunt Petunia's doing than anything else," said Harry. "She's living her dream, now; working in basically her own greenhouse; planning her little plots of flowers all over the grounds."

"I suppose the same could be said about Uncle Vernon," said Hermione. At Harry's puzzled look, she explained," He's at an age where most muggles begin to look forward to retirement and he's actually getting to do the things he enjoys. I think that your 'killing' them was the best thing that has ever happened to them."

"Perhaps," agreed Harry. "Speaking of killing, how do you suppose Neville and Ginny's talk turned out?"

"Well," said Hermione, "I don't like to tell tales out of school but since we aren't, I will. She's planning on dumping him."

Harry was surprised and looked it, although not for the reason Hermione suspected. Before she could elaborate, Harry said, "She'd better be quick because that's his plan, as well."

"Really?" asked Hermione. Then, with a bit of a sigh, she said, "I suppose that will make things easier for everyone. There won't be any 'Please, don't leave me.' talk."

"I suppose not," said Harry. "Still, if Neville goes first, he might be a bit singed regardless of her intentions."

Hermione merely nodded and went back to her books.

October 7th, 1997

First thing in the morning.

The next morning, they were both enjoying their bath when Harry was distracted from his favorite activity. "Oh, no," he muttered. Louder, he added, "Not now!"

"What is it?" asked Hermione. She wasn't particularly pleased that he had stopped.

"I can't believe it," he groaned. "The bloody ring is heating up."

"Now?" asked an irritated Hermione. "You have ten minutes, right?" Harry had already put the coins in but had yet to turn the crank to use the metaphor from last weekend.

"I have to get dried off and dressed before then," said Harry. He was like the man who swam half-way across the ocean, didn't think he could make it and swam back. It might be just as well to finish, at this point.

"Just stop and get dressed, now," said Hermione. "It'll make you a better negotiator if you aren't in a good mood." She smiled at him and stepped out of the tub. Reluctantly, he followed.

Quickly, Hermione dried them both and summoned Harry's clothes; greatly increasing his frustration by not bothering with her own. He just had time to tie his shoes and kiss Hermione when the ring's red band began to glow in earnest. With a quick farewell, he was gone.


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59 – Attack at Gringott's

October 7th, 1997

Harry popped into the Gringott's conference room and immediately pulled his wand; the hairs on the back of his neck sticking straight up as he felt a very familiar sensation. He spun around in fear as the goblins all jumped to their feet; hands raised menacingly.

"What's going on here!" shouted Harry at the goblin he now recognized as Ragnok. He kept a watchful eye on the rest of the group but kept taking the quick glance from side to side.

"Calm down, Mr. Potter," said Ragnok. "Nothing is happening. We've arranged to meet with you, if you'll recall." He looked at Harry as if assessing his psychological balance.

Harry did not calm down. "You've trapped me here," he quickly stated. "Are you working for Voldemort?" Harry became more agitated by the second.

"No," said Ragnok. "Why would you think we are working for You-Know-Who?"

"The ward!" shouted Harry, about ready to unleash his building fury. "The anti-apparition ward. It's the same as it was at Umbridge's house. Exactly the same! You gave him this charm and it almost killed us all. That won't happen this time." His wand glowed and crackled ominously as he prepared to make his escape by whatever means were necessary.

"Mr. Potter; wait," pleaded Ragnok. "You are mistaken. Mostly, at least." Ragnok looked at his fellow goblins with what appeared to be a concerned, rather than frightened look on his face. "We are not working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Why have you used this spell here, then?" asked Harry. "The last time it was cast on us, it drained the life out of a wizard. Surely, such a powerful spell isn't used lightly." He had seen no offensive movements out of the goblins but maintained his level of alertness.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Potter," offered Ragnok. "The reason that your foe has the spell is one of our most guarded secrets but, as it was used to such a devastating effect against you, I believe you deserve the right to know."

Everyone stood still as statues, waiting for someone else to make the first move. After about thirty seconds, Harry made his decision and summoned a chair next to him on the side of the room opposite the goblins. "This is close enough, for now," he said. "I'd feel a bit better with you all in plain sight, if you don't mind." He slowly sat down in his chair but didn't put away his wand.

Sensing, perhaps, that this was the best they could hope for, at the moment, Ragnok signaled for the others to sit at the table. After they had done so, he gathered his thoughts for a moment and began his explanation to Harry.

"Mr. Potter," began Ragnok, "the anti-apparition ward that you are apparently sensing at this moment has been used on the lower levels of this bank for many years. We..."

There was a hurried knock at the door and two goblins rushed in and spoke frantically to Ragnok in Gobbledegook. Harry could make nothing out of their babbling except for two words that rang out like church bells; 'Harry Potter'.

"Mr. Potter," asked Ragnok, "did you summon any assistance when you first arrived?"

Harry was shocked enough at the question to answer quickly and truthfully. "No," he said, "of course not." He then thought for just a second before asking, "What's happened?"

"I've been told that there is an army of red-robed individuals that are rather insistent on finding you," replied Ragnok. "They are currently two levels above us and descending."

"Oh, them," said Harry. Louder, he explained, "They're sort of my bodyguard. It didn't occur to me that they might get upset when I disappeared from Hogwarts." The elves had taken it very personally when they were prevented from protecting Harry, along with Hermione and Ron at the attack on Umbridge's house. Having the same spell separating them from him would not go down well. "I'd better have a word with them. Could someone lead me to them?"

Ragnok, himself, beckoned for Harry to follow as he strode out the door. Once in the wide hallway, they could hear the echoes of the battle above. Fearing that someone would, or already had, been injured or killed in a senseless battle, Harry called ahead to Ragnok, "Could you just lower the anti-apparition ward for a moment so that they can come to me? It would be quicker."

With two floors to climb and the initial reports still ringing in his ears, Ragnok considered Harry's request. As head of the bank, he could lower the ward if necessary, although he had not had reason to do so for quite some time. He decided to take a chance on the human as much out of preserving his bank as his knowledge of the character of Harry. Stopping, he raised his arms and concentrated. After a few seconds, Harry felt the ward subside to a more normal level. Nearly instantly, a deafening simultaneous multiple apparation pop was heard as all of the members of the Hogwarts Free Elves appeared around them. Such a force nearly caused the goblins to react out of panic, but fortunately, the elves were able to see that Harry was unharmed and in no immediate danger. Harry was at first shocked at how many there were; he guessed at least thirty. He then remembered the Weasley force multipliers and got back to business.

"Slider," he called.

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered a clearly upset Slider. He had worked up a sweat.

"Why are you here?" asked Harry, not assigning blame nor dismissing any. He thought a straight explanation from Slider would be best to calm everyone's nerves.

"Slider and the Hogwarts Free Elves is thinking that Harry Potter is being in danger and we is protecting Harry Potter," explained Slider.

"Why did you think I was in danger?" asked Harry; again, mainly for the benefit of Ragnok.

"Slider is knowing when Harry Potter is not being at Hogwarts. Slider is then feeling Harry Potter at Gringott's but Slider is not being able to be going to Harry Potter. It is being the same as last time. Slider is checking with Mistress Hermione and she is being screaming. Mistress Hermione is being very upset so Slider and the Hogwarts Free Elves is being coming to Gringott's to be finding Harry Potter."

"Hermione was screaming?" asked Harry, as much to himself as anyone else.

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered Slider.

"Was she being attacked or anything?" asked Harry, worriedly.

"No, Harry Potter," replied Slider. "Mistress Hermione was not in danger.

This news concerned and confused Harry enough to wipe out the memory of the reason they were all chatting in the hallway in the first place. "Ragnok," he said, "it seems that something must have happened back at Hogwarts. If you could please keep the ward lowered for just a minute, I should really check on why my wife was screaming."

"It would seem there is more to this story, Mr. Potter," agreed Ragnok. "If you could take your 'bodyguards' back with you, I'll assess the damage that has been done here. We may have more to discuss when you return."

"Of course," replied Harry. "Slider. Please take your team and return to Hogwarts. I'm in no danger here. I'll check on Hermione and then return here. I'll call if I need you."

Slider said, "Yes, Harry Potter," and the Hogwarts Free Elves popped off.

"Back in a minute," said Harry to Ragnok and followed.

Harry popped into his suite to find Hermione sitting on their sofa, tying her shoes. She looked up and asked, "What's happened, Harry?"

"That's what I came back to find out," replied Harry. "Slider said you were screaming when he left."

"Of course I was screaming," said Hermione. "Five seconds after you left, Slider and his lot popped in, looking for you."

"Why would you be screaming, though," asked Harry.

"What was I wearing when you left?" asked Hermione. She put her hands on her hips, waiting for the obvious to seep through the granite in his skull.

It took a second for Harry to remember why he couldn't remember what she was wearing. "Oh," he said, finally. "Look; I have to get back to the meeting and see how much damage was done."

"Damage?" asked Hermione. "What..." But Harry was gone.

Harry had popped back into the hallway to find that Ragnok was still checking on any damage and casualties incurred during Harry's 'rescue'. Ragnok broke away from his discussion just long enough to give a brief order to another goblin. This goblin then approached Harry.

"Mr. Potter," he began, "if you would please return to the conference room, Ragnok will be with us shortly." He led the way and Harry, glancing about at the numerous goblins trotting briskly in all directions, sighed and followed. This was not the sort of impression he had wished to make on his first major business trip to Gringott's.

"I'm very sorry for all of the trouble that...," began Harry but he stopped and shuddered as the full force of the anti-apparition ward was reinstated. Ragnok had probably wanted to restore that particular defense of his bank now that Harry was back and the state of the other systems in place for it's protection were unknown.

"I'm just an assistant to Ragnok," explained the goblin. "You might wish to withhold your regrets until his return." He smiled in the usual, menacing way that all goblins smiled.

"Of course," agreed Harry. "I don't believe I caught your name, before."

"We didn't get around to formal introductions, at the time," replied the young goblin. "I believe we were all distracted by our imminent deaths before you decided not to kill us. My name is Blick."

Harry resisted the urge to begin another apology and merely said, "I'm pleased to meet you, Blick. Did Ragnok mention how long it might take before we can resume our meeting?"

"That would be hard to say, Mr. Potter," said Blick. "We aren't normally invaded so it's difficult to judge how long such a disturbance might take to clear up. Could I get you some refreshments while we wait?"

"Um, no, thank you," said Harry, deciding to talk as little as possible from now on.

"Very well," said Blick and took a seat opposite Harry. He stared straight at Harry; saying nothing else. After about twenty minutes, although Harry was sure that at least two hours had passed, Ragnok returned, along with his previous attendants.

"Good morning, again, Mr. Potter," began Ragnok. "May I take it that you found everything in order at Hogwarts?" He sounded a bit insincere; understandable, all things considered.

"Oh, yes," replied Harry. "Everything was fine back there." Harry considered inquiring on Ragnok's inspection but decided that he would be informed, in due time.

"If I might be so bold as to ask, Mr. Potter," began Ragnok, "what had caused your wife to be in such distress that your bodyguard would assume that you were in danger?"

Harry blushed but decided that Ragnok deserved to know why his bank had been attacked. "Ironically enough," he began, "it was my bodyguard that surprised my wife. When they detected that I had left, they checked with her to see if all was well." He paused a moment to phrase this next part properly. "Your summons came while we were taking our bath. Hermione helped me get dressed in time, you see, but didn't have time for herself. The elves popped in about ten seconds after I left so she was still..." He broke off.

"I see," said Ragnok, generating a slightly less threatening smile. "I believe the misinterpretation by your guards would be understandable. My complements, by the way; they are very competent. I estimate the bill for the damages will be in the three to five hundred thousand galleon range."

"Where there any injuries?" asked Harry. He had prepared himself on how to respond. Hopefully, showing his concern for the goblins, themselves, would help smooth over some of the bad feelings.

"Minor ones, fortunately," replied Ragnok. "For ruthlessly efficient fighting machines, they showed remarkable restraint when it came to inflicting damage on our personnel."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Harry. "I'll be pleased to pay any damages and other expenses after you determine the exact amount. I'd also like to say that I am very sorry that this incident took place and hope that we are able to move towards a more mutually beneficial relationship."

"Very well, Mr. Potter," replied Ragnok, satisfied. "I shall consider this incident settled, then; with the exception of the damages, of course." Harry nodded. "Now, to continue; I believe that we were discussing the security spell that you had used against you at the house of Miss Umbridge and that you sensed we are also using here. As you have noted, it is a very powerful charm and difficult to cast, even for a goblin. Again, as you have told us, for a wizard to cast such a spell, they must be extremely powerful or have some other means of incorporating the necessary magical energy to succeed. We are aware that there are wizarding spells that are able to use the life of one wizard to enhance the power of another. This is what you must be describing and from what we have been able to learn about your recent battle, there is no doubt that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was behind the assault. This spell was purchased by him from my predecessor during You-Know-Who's first rise to power."

"So the goblins were on Voldemort's side during the first war?" asked Harry. He had thought they remained neutral.

"No," replied Ragnok, quickly. "Well, not in the sense you are thinking. We did not wish to take sides, as you put it. Our experiences in previous wizard wars led us to conclude that our interests could best be served by remaining on good terms with both sides. Our main abilities lay in defense, you see, which would also explain our natural competence in banking; we are able to keep things secure. During actual battles, however, a few mighty wizards such as Aresticon, Phinlopper or Binns could, let's see; I believe the phrase is 'hand us our heads'. For this reason, we eventually just decided to remain neutral. We developed our defensive spells and charms and let the wizards fight amongst themselves."

"So how did... Wait a moment. Did you say Binns?" asked Harry.

"Yes," replied Ragnok. "Bloodbath Binns. He was very effective. He tended to prefer spells that caused severe physical wounds, hence his nickname. I'm surprised you haven't heard of him. He was very involved in the last war between our peoples. He was quite a warrior, they say; bursting onto the battlefield with a wand in each hand, his horrible cry of death piercing the air. The term 'bloodcurdling' was coined in his honor, I believe. Of course that was quite some time ago, I suppose. Perhaps it isn't discussed as much in your classes as I might expect."

"Perhaps not," agreed Harry, shocked. So that was why Professor Binns was so knowledgeable about the Goblin Wars. Who would have guessed? Harry decided to press on.

"So if you had chosen to remain neutral," asked Harry, "how was it that Voldemort acquired this spell?"

"He asked us, as you are, for assistance," replied Ragnok. "As the assistant head of the bank at the time, I was present at the meeting. He knew of our commitment to neutrality, of course, and seemed only interested in defensive spells. This spell was one of our most lucrative. It was never sold without placing an unbreakable vow on the purchaser to prevent instructing others in it's use or to cast it for a fee. A normal customer for such an expensive charm would be a major business or other facility with much more to lose than the cost of the spell."

"I see," said Harry. "I take it that it never occurred to you that anyone would pay such an exorbitant price or exert the kind of effort required to cast the spell simply to prevent the escape of those within it's range?"

"No," agreed Ragnok. "I believe that use never entered our thoughts. We found out later, unfortunately, that we had unknowingly made him much more effective at murder by simply removing the ability of his victims to escape. Yours is one of the few examples where circumstances did not unfold as he had planned."

"It worked well enough," said Harry. "We were saved by the red robed figures that you met earlier; otherwise, we'd have been toast." He thought a moment and added, "That might explain their actions, as well. They were pretty upset that they couldn't get to us. If they sensed, as I did, that it was the same spell in play, they would go nutters."

"As did you, Mr. Potter," agreed Ragnok. "I might have to just consider their attack, to use a wizard expression, as having our chickens come home to roost. Shall we proceed with the original intent of the meeting?"

"Of course," said Harry, wondering where Ragnok had picked up such odd colloquialisms. "Oddly enough, I've come to discuss our needs for some anti-apparition spells. We also need some, let's see, some means for very long distance transportation between our facilities and perhaps some portkeys to return us to headquarters in an emergency. Some means of moving people around locally, within our own anti-apparition wards, would be nice. There are some prisoners and guests that I would like to restrict to certain areas. And lastly, if possible, we'd like portkey wards of our own if that wouldn't bugger up the one's that I just mentioned."

Ragnok considered. "It would seem, Mr. Potter, that your requirements exceed our estimates. I believe that it might be possible to arrange some means of achieving most of your goals. Naturally, we have modified our procedures concerning our more powerful enchantments. The anti-apparition ward that caused such a disturbance this morning and which was used for unanticipated purposes in years past, is restricted. Our better portkey wards are similarly regulated."

"I see," said Harry. "Perhaps there is a way where we could come to some sort of an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial without substantially violating your directives?"

"There is a way, Mr. Potter," said Ragnok. "The only difficulty I foresee would be the level of knowledge of your facilities that you would be willing to allow one of our specialists to be aware. I can assure you that our customer's secrets are of the highest importance to us and our ward experts are properly bonded."

Harry thought he understood but wanted to make sure. "So you're saying," he began, "that one of your goblins would need to see our entire layout? At that time, he could consult with my team and determine our requirements and their costs?"

"That is mostly correct, Mr. Potter, "said Ragnok. "We would determine the final costs during negotiations but our representative would have all of your needs specified. He could also give general price ranges that you could use for your own decisions."

Harry thought about that for a second. He did have several current and future locations that needed either protection or means of securely traveling between. "I agree, Ragnok," said Harry. "Bill Weasley has assured me that you can be trusted with our secrets. I suppose all that is left to discuss at this point is when we could expect your expert."

"The time is up to you, Mr. Potter," said Ragnok. "If you are prepared, I could instruct our representative and have him arrive at your facilities this afternoon. Another time and location could also be arranged, if necessary."

"This afternoon would be fine," replied Harry. "Perhaps I should pick him up. It would be difficult to provide adequate directions to our headquarters."

"As you wish, Mr. Potter," replied Ragnok. "The lower levels will remain secure so another point of meeting will be necessary. Might I suggest my lobby office? It will not be as noticeable if I lower the protections around it for a few minutes."

"I've met you there in the past," said Harry, thinking. "That should be fine. I'll notify the people on my team who will be working with your expert to expect him. Shall I pick him up at 4 o'clock?" Harry had a five o'clock appointment with his aunt and uncle and didn't want any overlap.

"Four o'clock in my office, then," said Ragnok. "The ring will return you to the place from which you were summoned. Please do not take it off before you return here so that it can be placed back in our stock." With that, Ragnok touched the ring with his finger and Harry was transported back to his bedroom.

"I can't leave you alone for two minutes," huffed Hermione. She was automatically in a bad mood anyway, due entirely to the fact that Harry had managed to return in time to catch her before her first class. Harry and Hermione had then arranged a quick meeting in the Headmistress's office with Ron, Remus, Tonks and Minerva. Harry had quickly notified them all about the scheduled arrival of a goblin specialist and about the misunderstanding at the start of the meeting with the goblins. "Are you sure that the goblins are satisfied about the attacks?"

"I know it isn't living up to their reputation," replied Harry, "but as long as we pay for their expenses, they sounded like it was all settled.

Remus leaned back and sighed. "You have no idea how lucky you were," he said. "If anyone had been seriously hurt or killed, a whole new front would have opened up in this war."

"I'm aware of that," replied Harry, "although they might not be as eager to jump back into another wizard war as you might think. As I look back, I think they were more interested in getting me to calm down than preparing to make the first strike. In any event, we should take more care with their representative."

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Hermione, "since you aren't going near him." She crossed her arms and prepared for his retort.

"An excellent point," added Minerva. Remus and Tonks both nodded in agreement.

Harry, feeling a bit abandoned for making one little mistake, said, "Fine. I didn't want to get bogged down in the details, anyway." Thinking a bit, he amended, "I'll have to see him once, at least, to bring him to our office. After that, he's all yours."

"This seems hardly fair," whined Remus. "Harry gets out of work by almost starting a war."

"I'll be having the blood sucked out of my veins," countered Harry. "That should make up for some of it."

A jumble of "What was that?", "Come again?" and "Bloody hell, Harry!" filled the air. None of the elder members of the group had been notified of the transfusion experiment scheduled for that afternoon.

"We might not have mentioned it," explained Hermione, "but Professor Flitwick suggested a method that might allow Harry's aunt and uncle to see and, hopefully, enter the castle. He believes that magical blood introduced into their bloodstream might be sufficient to fool the wards into thinking they are magical themselves. Harry happens to have type O blood so we'll use it for everyone."

"Lucky you, Harry," laughed Tonks. "Although it might not be your uncle's cup of tea." She had been present at the Dursley's house when Vernon had been somewhat less than cooperative during his 'rescue'.

"That could be," agreed Hermione. "Aunt Petunia is fairly eager, though. She's started dozens of trays of flowers in her greenhouse that she hopes to use to decorate the great hall."

"We won't force him if he's unwilling," said Harry. "He and Kreacher seem content with their golfing, for the present. Now, getting back to the situation at hand; does anyone have any questions or concerns that we need to address before the goblin arrives?"

"I think we have a pretty good handle on our current needs," said Minerva. "Remus and I have been discussing the new lodgings for displaced families and we might need to add protections to that facility. We'll be sure to arrange future visits for additions and adjustments."

"Did you find a good location?" asked Hermione.

"We've decided to add onto the castle, itself," replied Remus. "The north-east end just off of the staff quarters will blend in well, if built properly. We did a cost analysis and it was just as expensive to match the stone and slate exterior of the castle as to install dozens of those special windows. Minerva and I decided that if we're going to spend the money anyway, we might as well have something we'll be able to use after the war is over."

"Fair enough," agreed Harry. "Perhaps a courtyard of their own to contain the younger children would be helpful. We don't want anyone wandering into the Forbidden Forest."

"We had already planned on a magical barrier but actual walls might afford a bit of privacy," agreed Minerva.

"That would be better, anyway," added Tonks. "We don't really want to have loads of students wondering why we have toddlers on the grounds, anyway."

"Fine," said Harry. "I'll bring the goblin to our office at four. Between the five of you, I'm sure you'll be able to handle everything while I'm in exile." He affected an anguished face.

"Sure," said an uncompassionate Hermione. "I do have one question, though. You've been in Gringott's a few other times, including the lower levels. Why haven't you ever noticed that ward before today?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry, honestly. "I didn't have much experience with anti-apparition wards before this summer and either Dobby or Winky have been doing most of my banking for me since then. They're also fairly subtle. Once you start looking for them, like I do, you can't miss it but otherwise they aren't that noticeable."

"From what you've told us," said Remus, "they've sold the charm to a few places. Try not to come unglued the next time you find one, okay, Harry?"

"I said I was sorry," whined Harry, "and I didn't kill anyone. It's my bodyguard that you should be talking to."

"I intend to," said Hermione, "and not just about ripping the doors off of Gringott's." It might take her more than a few days to get over having ten elves pop in to chat when she wasn't even wearing a smile.

"At least Winky didn't come along," said Harry. He shuddered to think of the damage that she could have caused.

Hermione didn't respond immediately. Instead, she looked around, expectantly. Turning back to Harry, she asked, "So where is she?"

"Where's who?" asked Harry.

"Winky," answered Hermione. "That's at least the third time we've mentioned her name, today. Normally, she'd be here by now."

"Winky," said Harry in his summoning voice. There was no response.

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Hermione, hesitantly.

Minerva said, "Slider."

"What can Slider be doing for Mistress?" asked Slider a moment later.

"We were wondering if you might know what has become of Harry and Hermione's elf, Winky," stated the Headmistress.

"Winky is being sleeping in the kitchens, Mistress," said Slider.

Harry and Hermione groaned simultaneously. Hermione recovered first and asked, "I'm afraid to ask, Slider, but why is she sleeping in the kitchens?"

"Winky is wanting to do bad things at goblin bank," said Slider.

Harry looked back up and asked, "Bad things like maybe pulling their bones out of their bodies?" He could fully remember the utter shock on Dawlish's face when he described what Winky had done to a giant in similar circumstances.

"No, Harry Potter," replied Slider. "Winky is being in the goblin bank lobby a little time after Slider and the Hogwarts Free Elves is being there. Slider is asking where Harry Potter is being and the goblins is being saying that Harry Potter is not being there. Winky is saying that her master IS being there and Winky is being going to him."

"I'll bet she did," said Harry. "She'd know I was there and wouldn't like being told any different. I wonder why the goblins didn't just tell her I was in a meeting?"

"Because they didn't know," answered Remus. "That meeting was very top secret, even to the regular goblins, it appears. You didn't come in the front door and you probably weren't on any guest list so they wouldn't know what the elves were talking about." With a sigh, he said, "Let's here the rest of it then, Slider. I take it you all started towards the carts to get to Harry."

"Slider and the Hogwarts Free Elves is being going to the carts," said Slider, "and the goblins is being trying to stop us. Before we is being moving the goblins, Winky is being pointing at the floor and is being saying that her master is that way. Winky is making a hole in the floor and is being jumping down. Slider and the other elves is being following Winky. Winky is being hurting some goblins more that Winky is needing to be doing so Slider and Pounder is putting Winky to sleep. Pounder and Curly is being watching Winky while Slider and the rest of the Hogwarts Free Elves is being finding Harry Potter. We is using the Weasley balls to keep from having to being hurting goblins too much. Goblins is not knowing what to be doing so we is being able to put them to sleep easy. We is making new holes in floors and we is getting nearer to Harry Potter when we is no longer being stopped from popping. We is then popping next to Harry Potter and Harry Potter is sending us back to Hogwarts. We is then putting Winky in the kitchens until we is talking to Harry Potter."

"Thanks, Slider," said Harry. "Please just let her sleep for awhile. We'll come down to the kitchens when we finish our meeting."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Slider, and popped away.

"I suppose I'll have to give her some specific conditions for when she can do that sort of thing," said Harry.

"It might not be that simple, Harry," said Tonks, with unusual contemplation. "I remember something about this sort of elf behavior from auror training and it isn't a good sign."

"I didn't think it was a good sign," agreed Harry. "Hermione and I have already talked about this from the last time and we think Winky could use a vacation. Her nerves are just a little shot after everything that's happened lately."

"It won't be that easy," said Remus. "Winky has had some severe shocks in her life and the way you've treated her hasn't helped."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, affronted. "I've always been good to Winky." He certainly didn't want to be put in the same category as Lucius Malfoy when it came to elf treatment.

"Yes," said Remus. "Too good. House elves are enchanted to be servants. As your wife has found out time after time; they like to work. They like taking orders and doing as they are told. A professional and detached relationship is their desire. They feel secure when they know who the boss is."

"Winky does tons of work," countered Harry. "She takes care of both Hermione and myself along with a good portion of the work in the fortress. She helps my aunt in her greenhouse and still found time to arrange the party last Saturday. I don't know what else she could be doing."

"Without suffering complete exhaustion, nothing," said Remus. "Her work load isn't the problem. It might be a sign of it, though. I don't know her whole story but I do remember that she was dismissed by Crouch. Apparently, after that she worked here at Hogwarts for a few years. Do you know how she adjusted, Minerva?"

"I don't have any idea," said Minerva. "I don't recall Slider complaining about any of the elves."

"She was miserable," said Hermione. At McGonagall's astonished look, she continued. "It wasn't because of her treatment while here, Headmistress. She missed her old master and, well, she developed a bit of a drinking problem."

"Drinking problem?" asked Tonks and McGonagall, simultaneously. They both looked at each other before turning back to Hermione.

"Butterbeer," said Harry. "It's a bit more effective on house elves than wizards."

"I see," said McGonagall. "I also recall that at some time, she must have married Dobby."

"That's right," continued Harry. "I'm not sure when. Anyway, last summer I hired Dobby. When we started to set up the Fortress of Solitude, I needed another elf and Winky was only too glad to sign on."

"Of course she was," said Remus. "Although they're content wherever they're needed, a house elf is happiest when working in a house. It's fairly difficult for a dismissed elf to regain that sort of a position."

"She did a great job," said Hermione, coming to Winky's defense. "She took care of our house like it was her own."

"Exactly," replied Remus. "Unless I'm mistaken, you let her make all of the decisions. She cleaned the house; decided what would be on the menu; chose the rooms where any visitors were lodged; bought all of the supplies; arranged for any necessary maintenance or replacements and saw to everyone's needs. In short, you showed trust in her judgment."

"I guess I still don't get it," said Harry. "What did I do that was so bad?"

"You treated her like she was one of the family," answered Remus. "You didn't want to be anyone's master but you became hers to make her happy. When Dobby died, you suffered his loss like a brother, going as far as placing him in your family cemetery. You were supportive and sympathetic while she was getting over it."

Tonks continued, "Afterwards, you let her choose Dobby's replacement; her niece. This probably reinforced the family aspect of your relationship."

"Could you two get to the point?" asked Hermione, getting a bit upset by Remus and Tonks' insinuation that Harry and her kind treatment of Winky was somehow bad for her.

"The point," said Remus, "is that Winky has developed a connection to Harry that drastically increases her elf magic while clouding her judgment at the same time. No well adjusted elf should have been able to do what she did to that giant. If the other elves weren't with her this morning, there is no telling how much damage she would have caused at Gringott's in order to 'save' Harry. This second incident, despite being a misunderstanding, will only reinforce her fear of loss and desire to protect her master."

"And I caused this by being nice to her?" asked Harry. "I can't be the only wizard who doesn't treat their house elf like rubbish."

"You aren't," said McGonagall. She had been sitting quietly, listening to all this while letting her thoughts float her back almost sixteen years. "Let me ask you a question, Harry. If Winky decided she wanted to be free, would you free her?"

"Of course," said Harry.

"And if she wanted to be paid, would you pay her?" continued Minerva.

"Sure," said Harry. "She deserves to be paid."

"And if she wanted to take a few weeks off and visit friends and family, would that be a problem?" asked the Headmistress.

"No," said Harry. "Why would it?"

"If Winky were captured by Lord Voldemort," asked Minerva, posing her final question, "would you try to rescue her?"

Thinking of both Dobby's fight with Voldemort and Winky's confrontation with the giant, Harry smiled and answered, "I think it would be Voldemort who'd need the rescuing, but yes; if I could, I would."

"That is why Winky is currently sleeping in the kitchens," said Minerva. "She was at rock bottom, even for an elf. Dismissed by her master, she was disgraced, free, drunk and hopeless. And then you came along and put her in charge of an established house. At her request, you removed the stigma of freedom. When Dobby died, you honored him and comforted her. At the party, you publicly acknowledged her efforts. All of this is beyond the comprehension of a house elf. They are, to the rest of the wizarding world, inferior. You, however, have shown understanding and compassion to her situation that is beyond the reach of most other people. While you were growing up, you lived virtually as a house elf. You had no control over your environment. You worked like a servant. You lived in a cupboard under the stairs. You view her as an equal and she loves you for it. I don't know if you are aware of this, Harry, but when you mix magic with love, the results are amazing."

Harry was stunned. He knew, of course, that love was a powerful force. It was, after all, the source of most of his power. House elves started out powerful. He could see clearly how an elf actually loving their master could be potentially disastrous. "So what can we do?" he asked. "I don't think I could start being mean to her; it wouldn't be right."

"Let's bring her here and see how severe the situation actually is," suggested Remus.

"Okay," said Harry. "Slider."

"What can Slider be doing for Harry Potter?" asked Slider a moment later.

"Could you please wake Winky and send her here?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Har..," began Slider but he was interrupted.

"Join us with her along with another elf, Slider," said Minerva. She looked at Harry and said, "Just in case."

Slider did not show any reaction to the change but said, "Yes, Mistress," and popped out.

They all waited in silence for the return of the elves. After about twenty seconds, Slider returned with Winky and Jumper.

"Master is safe!" cried Winky and rushed to give Harry a hug around his knees. She was trembling as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

"I wasn't in danger, Winky," said Harry. "I was just at a meeting."

"Winky is being glad that bad goblins isn't hurting master," said Winky.

"They weren't bad, Winky," said Hermione. "They were just going to be talking with Harry."

"Bad goblins had better not be hurting Master or Winky is being crushing them; being driving them before Winky and being hearing the lamentations of their women."

"Oh...kay," said Harry, slowly. "I think we have everything we're looking for, Winky. I need for you to, uh..." Harry cast about the room for some sort of errand or task for her. Everyone looked at each other, attempting to think of something.

"We need treacle tart," said Hermione. "Harry's entertaining this weekend and needs about...," she looked at Harry and asked, "How much did Molly say?"

"One ton," replied Harry, unable to suppress a smile at the suggestion and the anticipation.

"One ton, Master?" asked Winky. She knew Harry liked his treacle tart; after all, who didn't; but this was more than she thought even he could eat.

"They're my new dragon friends, Winky," explained Harry, "and I'll be a dragon, too."

"Winky is understanding, Master," said Winky. "Winky will have two-thousand pounds of treacle tart ready for Master on Saturday, Master."

"If you get a chance, Winky," added Harry, getting a bit off subject, "please check on price and availability for live sheep."

Hermione groaned as Winky asked, "Live sheep, Master?"

"Yes, Winky," answered Harry. "Young, fat ones." He smacked his lips.

"Of course, Master," said Winky and popped off, presumable to begin purchasing a ton of honey.

"Don't ask about the sheep," warned Hermione to the rest of the group. Ron was already in on Harry's reasons but the rest were still fortunate enough to be ignorant.

"I wonder how they would taste if you dipped them in the honey?" asked Harry. "Of course, that would depend on if you did it before or after."

"Before or after what?" asked Tonks.

"I don't want to think about it," repeated Hermione, emphatically.

"You'll be seeing it this weekend," said Harry. "They're all anxious to meet you, you know."

"I can hardly wait," said Hermione, sarcastically. "Watching you and your friends wolfing down screaming sheep and treacle tart."

"Fascinating as that might be," interrupted McGonagall, "I believe we still have to resolve the problem with Winky. It is evident that she does, indeed, have a bit more of an emotional connection to Mr. Potter than would normally be considered healthy. Although I am, technically, a major owner of house elves, my experiences with them does not include such matters. Remus. I believe you and Tonks have demonstrated some knowledge. Could you please make your recommendations?"

"Of course," replied Remus. "Normally, the solution would be to remove the elf, one way or another. Over time, and with proper treatment from the new owner, the elf would adjust to their proper place in the new home. Eventually, the old owner would just be a memory."

"Wouldn't Winky view a transfer of ownership as a punishment?" asked Harry.

"She might," agreed Tonks. "It all depends on how it's done, of course."

"I don't think I could do that to her," said Harry, flatly. "I owe it to her, and to Dobby, to see that she's happy and healthy. To just toss her out for being too caring towards me would be totally unacceptable."

"Since time is the main healer in this case," brought up Hermione, "perhaps just an extended absence would be all that was necessary." At everyone's continued silence, she continued, "I think that we were on the right path in the first place. Some sort of a vacation where she can kick back and relax."

"Elves don't relax," said Minerva.

"Neither do wizards," said Tonks. "Not during their vacations, anyway. Most of the 'vacations' that we took when I was a kid were laden with exercise and travel. We always returned more exhausted than when we left. It's doing something different that makes it a vacation."

"That sounds perfect," said Harry. "The last thing Winky would want was having nothing to do. All we need is some activity that's away from here and me that will distract her enough to get her head on straight. Any ideas?"

'Why don't we send her to the Burrow?' wrote Ron. 'Dad's been raving about her cooking and, unless she's totally changed her personality, Mum will keep her plenty busy. Maybe even teach her to knit.'

Hearing no reaction, either way, Harry said, "That might be fine, Ron. We'll have to check with your mum and ask her if she'd be willing to take Winky in."

"We'll also have to make different arrangement with Aunt Petunia," offered Hermione. "She and Winky have been working pretty hard on that greenhouse, you know."

"That would have been another good alternative," said Minerva, "if it wasn't right here at Hogwarts. Poppy has been keeping an eye on the results and seems quite impressed."

"We'll work something out," said Hermione. "I think Winky will still want to work with Aunt Petunia. Probably a little time with both of them would work out the best." She looked at her watch and said, "It's almost the end of first hour so, unless there's more, I'd like to get to Runes." With no dissent, she rose and the meeting broke up.

On the way out of the office, Harry held back to chat a moment with Minerva. Hermione looked back, questioningly, but her personal siren song was playing and she headed off to class.

When they were alone, Harry turned back to McGonagall and asked, "It's none of my business, Headmistress, but I ran into Dougal, last night. He was tutoring a couple of first or second years."

"You are correct, Mr. Potter," answered Minerva, "it is none of your business. Mr. Mal... I mean, Weasley wishes for his reasons to remain private. Please respect his decision in this matter."

"Of course, Headmistress," said Harry and he left to find a substitute for his missed breakfast.

Author's note: The Winky storyline is probably going to be important (unless it isn't). I wanted to review her life and condition so that when what might happen, happens; you won't be confused. Then again, it might not turn out like I planned at all.

Dad

p.s. The "lamentations of their women" line was from Conan the Barbarian.


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60 – Epiphany

October 7th, 1997

"You're sure there aren't any needles?" asked Vernon Dursley for the third time. Like a lot of people approaching, or having reached middle age, his slightly faltering eyesight was still precise enough to make out the jagged edge of the sewer pipe sized needles so popular with medical professionals.

"If it means that much to you, I'm sure I have some," assured Poppy. Patting Vernon on the shoulder, she added, "It'll only take a moment." She started to walk towards the door of the greenhouse.

"Don't bother, don't bother," said Vernon quickly. "Just checking. Now this, uh, transfusion thingy is just to make us see the school? We won't get all 'unnatural', will we?"

"Unnatural?" asked Poppy, confused.

"He means magical, Poppy," explained Harry, leaning against a shelf of potted delphiniums.

"Oh," said Poppy, getting the drift. "No, we don't think that will be happening, Mr. Dursley. This hasn't been tried before for this purpose, as we've explained, but magical people have donated blood with the general population in the past with no problems. There may be no effect at all. In any event, it shouldn't be dangerous."

"Very well, then," said Vernon with a resigned quaver in his voice.

"Fine," said Poppy. "Now, who's first?"

Vernon froze as if plunged into liquid nitrogen. Looking into his face for a moment, Poppy turned to Petunia and suggested, "Ladies first, then?"

Petunia, who acquired her magiphobic tendencies through marriage, noted her husbands reticence and said, "Of course. What do I do?"

Poppy signaled for Harry to join them and, setting her wand with the tip on Petunia's wrist and the hilt on Harry's, she spoke a short word of transfer. The wand glowed red, briefly, and a tablespoon of Harry's blood was transferred to his aunt.

Petunia felt the slightest sensation as Harry's blood dissipated into her own. When it had passed, she said, "I don't feel any different. Do you think it worked?"

"Turn around and see," suggested Harry. "The castle's that way." He pointed behind her.

Petunia spun around and couldn't suppress a shocked "Oh, my!". Moments earlier, she had only seen the illusory rubble of a crumbled fortress. To have the majestic towers of Hogwarts suddenly appear in their place literally took away her breath. Gasping in a fresh lungful of air, she exclaimed, "It's beautiful! Oh, Vernon; you just have to see this." She had glanced back at her husband for just a moment before returning her eyes towards the school.

Harry looked at the castle as Petunia encouraged her husband and for a moment was sent back to his first sight of Hogwarts. He had arrived by boat and it had been a life-changing event for him. Smiling at the memory, he said, "This isn't the best side. To really get a feel for the place, you have to see it from the lake."

This really set off Petunia. "Come now, Vernon; your turn." She tried to move Vernon over to her previous position next to Harry. With reluctance, he complied. The transfer was done in the same manner as before but the results were quite different.

"What's happening to me?" bellowed out a confused and, quite obviously frightened, Vernon Dursley. He was shaking quite forcefully and his face had gone shortly from pale to quite red. It wasn't his usually, blustery red, though. He was very much in distress.

Poppy had her wand over him in a heartbeat. "Temperature up, way up; heart rate up; blood pressure... blood pressure is all over the place. Not a stroke; not a heart attack. Something in the blood but who's ever reacted this way to type O?" She paused for a moment to open her bag. Looking through it while keeping an eye on her patient, she didn't really have any idea on how to treat him.

Petunia was besides herself, of course. Helping him down to his chair, she kept feeling his forehead. He was burning up. Harry was reaching out with his enhanced senses, as well, but couldn't determine the source of the problem. And then, as suddenly as it had started, Vernon began to feel better.

"It's passing," gasped a relieved Vernon. Poppy dropped her bag and resumed her wand work.

After about a half minute, during which time Petunia was nearly fit to be tied, and nearly was petrified to keep her quiet, Poppy said, "Whatever it was, it's over. Your temperature, pulse and blood pressure have all returned to normal levels." She continued with her wand while saying, "In fact... just a second." She continued with her wand and then said, "I think I have it. It's because we used Harry's blood."

"I figured that much out, myself," said Vernon, sarcastically. "It's probably something in his unnaturalness that wants me dead."

"If that were true," said Poppy, "he's going about it the wrong way. That sensation you felt, along with the temperature rise and the rest; that was the cholesterol being removed from your bloodstream."

"Cholesterol?" asked Vernon.

"Yes," answered Poppy. "It's the price you pay for enjoying your food. I understand the muggles have some medicines that might help but they all require you to give up your bacon and eggs in the morning. No one can do that for long so what's the point?"

"Exactly what I told my doctor," said Vernon.

"Vernon!" said Petunia, sharply, her earlier worry long gone. "You never told me about our doctor having concerns about your cholesterol."

Caught, Vernon tried to calm his wife. "It was nothing, Petunia. Dr. Smith only suggested I watch my diet a bit. He never specifically said... well, maybe a bit specifically..."

"I certainly hope you like oatmeal," snapped Petunia. She had her arms crossed in the traditional wife 'don't cross me' position.

"That probably won't be necessary," said Poppy. "At least as long as he remains our guest, he can eat anything he wants and it won't matter all that much."

"Anything?" asked Vernon, dreamily. He had never seriously considered having an affair, at least not with an older woman; but Poppy, in his eyes, was as beautiful as Helen to Paris.

"It would seem so," replied Poppy. "The process would begin again once you stopped receiving Harry's blood but it would take decades to return to your previous level."

"Decades," said Vernon, not asking; merely acknowledging. He unconsciously began to lick his lips.

Harry, seeing this, said, "Supper is in one hour. Why don't you take a brief walk around the castle while it's still light and then join us in the Great Hall? The main entrance is the only double archway. The Great Hall is just inside and to the right. You can ask anyone for directions if you have trouble."

"That sounds lovely," said Petunia, taking a still shaken Vernon by the hand. "Come along, dear."

Harry and Poppy watched as they walked off around the corner towards the lake. "I suppose I should be going, too," said Harry. "Can I give you a lift back to your office?" He held out his arm.

Poppy, smiling as she tried to remember back to the last time a young man had offered her his arm in a non-emergency, accepted and the two of them left the greenhouse with a pop.

A short time later, Harry stood before the cell of Peter Pettigrew. Luna was with him. She had specified the hour before supper as being available when Harry had asked for her help in the interrogation of Wormtail. He decided that it was easier talking to Pettigrew without Hermione or Ron present, at least until he could resolve his own feelings about the rat. Luna, despite also being required to verify any information, was also perhaps the only close friend that he didn't mind having with him. She wouldn't judge him either way on his thoughts and comments. That was just her way. Her off-hand, and apparently unconcerned comment that Dougal was busy added a bit more fuel to the curiosity fire lit by McGonagall the previous night. He just told himself that it wasn't any of his business, not that that helped, and moved on. They had forty-five minutes until six. If Harry's last session was any guide, he would be lucky to make it that long.

Harry lowered the silencing charm and said, "Good afternoon, Peter."

Wormtail jumped. There really wasn't much anyone could do about it. If you're sitting in a completely silent room all day, you jump when you hear your name.

It only took him a moment to gather his wits and he replied, "Hello, Harry." He looked at the hitherto unknown face of Luna and said, "I don't believe we've met, young lady, although a change in hair style would be a good enough disguise to fool me if I am mistaken."

Luna, with her usual lack of fear, merely replied "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Pettigrew. You're correct; we haven't met before now."

"This is Luna Lovegood, Wormtail," said Harry. "She's going to be sitting in on our meetings for awhile. Although she might ask the occasional question if she needs to, her main purpose will be to judge your honesty. She's pretty good at it so don't bother with any deceptions and we'll get through this fairly quickly."

"I've already told you that I'll cooperate," said Wormtail. "I have no reason not to, at this point."

"Fine," replied Harry. "Let's go into a little more detail, then; shall we? Let's start with Hufflepuff's cup. You mentioned that it shattered after a series of spells."

"Yes," said Wormtail. "I have been reviewing that incident ever since we last talked. The Dark Lord had decided against totally possessing me but was able to communicate, obviously. He had some sort of a problem with that, which reminded me of something he had said when he first regained his new body." He looked at Harry for a moment before stating, conversationally, "But you heard it all yourself; you were there."

Harry tightened up. That encounter with Voldemort was one of the defining moments of his life; the time he had decided to die fighting rather than hiding. The man who thrust his knife in Harry's arm was sitting before him. The man who had killed Cedric without hesitation on Voldemort's command. The man who instigated the rebirth of the Dark Lord. These thoughts fanned the fire of the fury that wanted to overcome Harry whenever he dwelt on the apparent fact that here also was one of his father's closest friends who would show, more than occasionally, why his dad had liked him so much. He knew that Wormtail was probably right; when Harry found out what caused one man to change into the other, he would probably kill him. Harry was close, now. His hand twitched involuntarily, desperate to pull his wand. Harry forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Now was not the time. He composed himself as quickly as possible. "Yes, I was there," he finally said.

"He said that he was ripped from his body; less than spirit; less than a ghost," recalled Pettigrew. "I believe that the reason he couldn't properly possess the boy was because some part of him was missing. I don't know what that part might be but whatever it was, it was held in the cup. He called it the important part. A most curious statement at the time that I never considered; but now, one that might be important."

It was time for a command decision. Two of them, in fact. "Wormtail," said Harry, "and you, too, Luna. There is a great secret than only a very few people know. You, Peter, will never have the chance to tell anyone. I regret that my telling you this will limit any future rewards that you might have had regarding company but it is that much of a secret. Luna, I trust you completely, but it is still a major step to give you this information. You must never mention any part of it to anyone but I need your help during our interrogations. Do you understand?"

"I'm in Ravenclaw, Harry," answered Luna with her usual light-hearted demeanor. "Of course I understand. I won't tell anyone."

Harry took a deep breath and began, "The 'important' thing that Voldemort was speaking of was a part of his soul. He ripped it into pieces and hid them in difficult to recover places. Six of these pieces of his soul, called horcruxes, were made. While they exist, he cannot die. We are trying to gather the remaining ones and destroy them. Only then will I be able to kill him."

"You are gathering them and you will kill him?" asked Wormtail. "Are you saying the rumors are true?"

"Yes," said Harry. "The prophesy that he tried to obtain a couple of years ago stated that I was the only one who would have the power to destroy Voldemort. Dumbledore taught me much of what I needed to know in order to finish this task. We are well on the way, in fact. I destroyed one horcrux several years ago and Dumbledore finished off the second. We have a third here in our headquarters. A fourth is the pendulum of the Westminster Palace clock. Hufflepuff's cup was the fifth which you claim was destroyed and the sixth is Ravenclaw's pendant which is in Mt. Etna. I've been giving all of this a bit of thought and have what I believe is a fairly good guess. I haven't run it by Hermione, yet, but if he needed the 'important' part of Hufflepuff's cup, that could only mean that soul fragment is in his body, right now. That would imply that his original soul, or what was left of it, was destroyed when he tried to kill me as a baby. As you've explained, that attempt to regain a part of his soul didn't work out completely so he needed to finish it with my blood, your hand and his father's bone, if I'm not missing anything."

"Those were the ingredients, yes," confirmed Pettigrew. He looked thoughtful as if trying to digest the information he had received.

Luna then asked the next, logical question. "So if you know where all of these horcruxes are, why haven't you collected them and destroyed them?"

"We didn't want to tip our hand until we were able to find them all," answered Harry. "The pendulum, especially, would be noticed within hours if it went missing and Voldemort would just have to move his other horcruxes to safety, putting us back at square one. He knows about the diary and probably the ring; those were the first two horcruxes that were destroyed. The locket in our safe might not have been noticed missing, yet, but we don't know one way or the other. The pendulum was the last one located. Peter, here, has told me of the probable destruction of Hufflepuff's cup and the location of Ravenclaw's pendant. Once we get the pendant, we'll collect the pendulum. At that moment, the secret will be out and Voldemort will know he will eventually be mortal again."

"I'm pretty sure that he won't like that," said Wormtail, sagely. "If what you say is true, the Dark Lord will move Heaven and Earth to get these horcruxes back."

"Why are these specific pieces of his soul so important?" asked Luna.

She didn't elaborate so Harry repeated, "He can't die while they still exist. It's why he didn't die the first time he tried to kill me."

"I know that," replied Luna, patiently. "I'm wondering why he doesn't make more if they are that important to him."

"Because..." began Harry and then he was stumped. Why didn't he think of that? More shockingly, why didn't Hermione think of that? "I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that, Luna." He looked questioningly at Wormtail.

"Hey," replied Peter, raising his one hand in the usual pose to ward off responsibility for something, "I didn't even know about these things five minutes ago."

"That's just great," grumped Harry. "He might have a hundred horcruxes, for all we know."

"I don't know, Harry," said Luna. "Into how many pieces could you rip your soul before you lost all of your humanity?"

Harry and Wormtail both laughed simultaneously. Momentarily surprised, they looked at each other and then both burst out again.

"What's so funny?" asked Luna, shocked at their amusement at what was, in fact, a very serious question.

"I'm sorry, Miss, ah; I'm afraid I've lost your name," said Peter.

"Luna Lovegood," said Harry and Luna; again, simultaneously.

"Yes, Miss Lovegood," began Peter, again. "Both Harry and I found that question amusing because we are both quite aware of how little the Dark Lord uses his soul, especially to demonstrate his 'humanity'."

"No one can be totally evil," said Luna, patiently. "For instance, in the short time I've been here, I can tell that you aren't as bad as you've been described."

This sobered Harry up quite quickly. He looked between the other two but remained silent.

Peter also regained his composure, along with his tongue. "I've done many very evil things in my life," said Wormtail. "I've betrayed my friends and aided the Dark Lord. I've found out all too well about the consequences of living without a soul as I've sold mine."

Luna looked directly into Pettigrew's eyes for quite a while. Finally, she said, "You are hard to read. I see the murder in your eyes but the malice behind it is missing. You have spoken truthfully when you say you have done great evil, yet I can feel your humanity is still with you when you talk and joke with Harry. I think that in different times, the two of you could have been friends."

Neither Harry nor Peter said anything. Harry didn't know what Wormtail thought about the topic but he had caught himself starting to slide into the playful banter that he used with his friends during their short interrogations. If they had met without knowing the other's history, Luna could very well be right. 'It doesn't matter', said Harry to himself. The time was now and their past was their past.

"Let's move on to Ravenclaw's pendant," suggested Harry. "How much do you know about this volcano and what else might be protecting the horcrux?"

"Let's see," mused Peter. "The path leading to the entrance of Mt. Etna begins just outside of the town of Casa Milia. Follow the stream to the north-east and you'll come to it's source. I'm not sure how consistent it is during the year, but the stream was only about four feet deep where it emerged from the mountain when I was there. It's not the weakest current in the world but you'll need to hold your breath and work your way upstream about ten feet before it will open into a sort of cave or grotto."

"I thought you said you had to get by lava at the entrance?" asked Harry.

"I meant the magical entrance that leads to the fire golem and Ravenclaw's necklace," explained Peter. "This first entrance has always been there and muggles even know about it. There is a narrow path to the left of the stream that will take you deeper into the volcano. I'm just guessing, but I'd say about two or three hundred feet further on, you'll get to the, well, I guess you'd have to call it the entrance to the entrance. There's a pair of stalagmites that are nearly identical. You'll have to cut yourself and smear the blood on the ground between them. A hole will appear so be careful."

"A pair of stalagmites hanging from the ceiling; blood on the ground between them," repeated Harry, jotting down this information in a notebook.

"That's not what I said," said Wormtail. He didn't elaborate.

"Sure you did," said Harry. He looked to Luna for confirmation.

Luna said, reassuringly, "You're almost right, Harry. The stalagmites aren't hanging from the ceiling, though."

"Then where are they hanging?" asked Harry. He had seen plenty of pictures of caves and knew at least this much about their appearance.

"They aren't hanging at all," explained Luna. "Stalagmites are on the floor with the pointed ends up and stalactites are hanging from the ceiling with the pointed ends down."

"How can you keep them straight?" asked Harry.

"I think they're usually pretty straight in the first place," replied Luna. "As long as the mineral water from above falls from the same point, the.."

"I meant how can you keep the names straight," clarified Harry as Wormtail leaned back against his wall, laughing.

"Oh, that's easy," answered Luna. "Stalactites hang on tight to the ceiling and stalagmites might get up to them, someday." She emphasized the words 'tight' and 'might' to help Harry hear the mnemonic aid.

Harry had to think about that for just a few seconds before comprehension fell over him. Smiling, he said, "I understand. Now, how big is this hole in the wall?"

"It's in the floor and it's about four feet across so be careful," answered Wormtail. "Now, once the hole is opened..."

At five minutes past six o'clock, Harry and Luna entered the Great Hall and walked up to their accustomed benches. The usual suspects were already seated and had begun to fill their plates.

"Sorry we're late," said Harry for the both of them. "Things went a bit better than expected so we should be all set for this weekend." They had planned on making a preliminary trip to Mt. Etna to scout out the area before their first foray into the depths of the volcano itself.

"You won't be taking Luna, will you?" asked Dougal. He looked a bit concerned at the prospect of his girl going on an actual mission.

"That won't be necessary," said Luna. "I wouldn't be very useful inside a..."

"Luna!' said Harry and Hermione, together.

"Oh!" said Luna, holding her hand up to her mouth. "I'm sorry. We just had such a nice, friendly conversation with Peter that I forgot that this is all supposed to be secret."

"Peter?" asked Hermione. "You had a friendly conversation with 'Peter', did you, Harry?"

"True enough, I suppose," answered Harry as he filled his own plate. "I can't deny it, especially since Luna pointed it out, that when Wormtail isn't being a complete and total villain, it becomes obvious why he was one of the Marauders." He started in on his salad when he suddenly paused and looked around the hall. "Somethings not right."

Hermione and Ron joined Harry in his not so subtle investigation. Naturally, their actions led the others in their group, and eventually everyone at their end of the table to do the same.

"What are we looking for?" asked Ginny, deciding that she would need some sort of a clue to solve Harry's riddle.

"I don't know," answered Harry. "It's almost like someone's here who shouldn't be."

"I don't see anyone new," offered Neville, looking about.

Harry rounded on him and said, "It's you." With a quick glance at Ginny, Harry started to say, "I would have expected..." He trailed off, not wishing to be the one who disclosed Neville and Ginny's relationship difficulties.

"You expected that Neville would be in a shallow grave somewhere?" asked Ginny. "Or at the least, at the other end of the table?"

"Something like that," agreed Harry. "Probably more the first one."

"Without getting into details," said Ginny, "Neville and I decided that we needed to do one of the few activities that have escaped us, until recently."

Ron dropped his fork and looked worriedly back and forth between Neville and Ginny; periodically increasing the scowl forming on his face in proportion to the redness of his skin. Instinctively, he tried to speak but was currently limited to, "Ah ooh da ea?". Frustrated, he picked up his pad of paper and pen but seemed at a loss as to how to begin.

Ginny, sensing the gist of her brother's concern and having no desire to taunt him at the moment, having noticed his additional anger at being unable to express himself properly, quickly said, "Not that, Ron. I meant that we finally discussed how we felt about our relationship."

Harry couldn't help himself. "That's what I thought, but from what Neville told me and what you told Hermione, I thought you were about to break up."

"I'm glad you kept those private conversations to yourselves," said Ginny, coldly. "In any event, though, we talked things over and decided to try again as a couple."

"This time, I get to be in charge," said Neville, excitedly, albeit suicidally.

"Come again?" asked Ginny.

"I mea... meant," stuttered Neville, turning pale, "I meant, ah, 'more' in charge than before. A bit assertive, if you will."

"Oh, I will," said Ginny, threateningly. Changing back to her sweet facade, she continued, "We're still negotiating the details."

"That sounds like a good idea," said Honey. "Ron and I have to do that from time to time. You'd be surprised how the smallest things can get bloody annoying after a while." She huffed a bit but went back into character by setting another slice of ham on Ron's plate without being asked.

"I'm glad you're working things out," said Hermione, making a show of going back to her dinner. She didn't know what small things were bothering Honey and didn't want to find out.

About five minutes later, Harry heard, or more accurately, sensed, that his Aunt and Uncle were approaching the Great Hall. This had nothing to do with his merger with Fawkes, though. He had developed this ability during his early, less than pleasant years in their care. When they walked in the door, however, they did something that they had never done in their own home. They stood in the doorway, looking around for a moment, until Petunia spotted Harry and Hermione and pointed them out to Vernon. Both of them smiled as they walked over to join them and their friends for supper.

"I've never seen a castle like this one, before," said Petunia in an excited whisper. Briefly gesturing to her husband, she continued. "We used to take some tours when we were dating and first married, but those castles seemed so old." She laughed and Vernon followed on with a chuckle of his own.

"Of course they were old," added Vernon. "This place looks like it was built last week. How in the world do they keep it in such good shape?"

"Don't say it," said Hermione, threateningly. Thinking a moment longer, and seeing Harry's crestfallen face, she decided that Harry's joke answer actually applied. "Oh, go ahead, then."

"Well, it's lost some of the, ah, what's the word?" began Harry.

"Humor? Originality?" suggested Honey.

"Novelty? Creativity?" continued Ginny.

"Spontaneity," finished Harry, disgruntled with his friends at the moment. "Anyway," he continued, turning back to his relatives, "the correct and accurate answer is 'It's magic'."

"Really," said Petunia, dryly. She then laughed with the rest of the group in earshot.

"Whatever it is," continued Vernon, "I know what I'll be doing the next rainy day. You say this place is over a thousand years old?" He began to load up his plate with the nearest items.

"Yes," replied Hermione. "I could loan you my copy of 'Hogwarts: A History', if you'd like some background."

"That would be nice," replied Vernon. "If that age is true, this castle is about three hundred years ahead of it's time. The rest of Europe didn't discover that round keeps and towers were better structurally and defensively until the thirteenth century."

"I didn't know that," said Hermione, subsequently ignoring the unbelieving stares that always followed that statement. "Why is that?" She had never in her wildest fantasies considered that she would ever have a civil conversation with Harry's uncle, especially one in which she might learn something.

Vernon had to stop chewing on his leg of mutton for a moment. "The round shape allowed a full view from above towards any direction. The walls, themselves, acted in the same manner as an arch. Any hit that wasn't centered exactly would tend to be at least partially deflected while even a perfect strike would have it's force distributed to all of the nearby stones. A flat wall wouldn't have anything but it's own thickness to protect it."

Harry, not truly interested in the minutia of medieval construction techniques, let his mind wander while eating his supper. His aunt sat across from him and also was more interested in her turkey breast than the evolution of the portcullis. She was smiling a bit as she ate, though, and Harry noticed that there was, in fact, a family resemblance between his mother, who he had only seen in photos, and his aunt. There was a substantial age difference, of course, but they were definitely sisters. He wondered how his mother would look right now if she hadn't been killed almost sixteen years earlier.

At such a time, while you are relaxed and marginally participating in multiple activities, your mind tends to take the opportunity to perform an analysis of the day and find, on it's own, points of overlap. This is why it is usually a good idea to 'sleep on it' when making important decisions. Given half a chance, your mind will bring all relevant information about a subject into the forefront of your thoughts and you will have better results. Sometimes, however, you will experience the elusive and unfathomable sensation of having an epiphany. Sometimes this can lead to long sought after solutions, such as using Harry's blood to allow his relatives to enter and see Hogwarts. Other times, however, you might come to a deeper understanding of something that you would just as soon not realized. It was into this latter state that Harry now fell.

The bottom fell out of Harry's world and everyone knew it. His Fawkes based projection of emotion now chilled the diners nearby to their bones. His face turned nearly white as he felt the breath sucked out of him. He literally could not draw air into his lungs, the shock of realization was so great.

"Harry?" asked Hermione, noticing his sudden change. "HARRY!" She jumped to her feet and tried to shake him into the present. "Are you choking?" She waited for an answer while bringing up the proper technique to perform the Heimlich Maneuver, just in case.

Ron, unaware of the inadvisability of the move, slapped Harry on the back. This wouldn't have helped for a choking victim but did cause Harry to cough and, therefore, breath again. He took several gulping breaths before asking the most unexpected question that anyone had heard in similar circumstances.

"Why is the Avada Kedavra curse unforgivable?" asked Harry, desperately.

"What?" she asked, surprised at the question and the urgency behind it. There was a terror in Harry's eyes that worried her more than anything else.

"The Avada Kedavra!" repeated Harry. "Why is it unforgivable?"

"It kills people," explained Hermione. Surely he knew that.

"I've killed people!" shouted Harry. "I've burned them, sliced them and blown them apart. Why is the Avada Kedavra worse than that?" By this time, most people in the Great Hall had lost their appetites.

"What's the matter, Harry?" asked McGonagall. She had rushed down from her chair at the start of the disturbance. Poppy was at her side a second later.

"I've got to talk to Dumbledore," stated Harry. "He'll know." He rose from his bench, almost falling at the attempt. He immediately tried to apparate but was so unfocused that nothing happened. Frustrated, he called out, "Dobby."

This was enough for Hermione. "Harry. We need to get you to the hospital wing." She looked at Poppy for assistance.

"There's nothing wrong with me," said Harry. "I need to talk to Grampa." He paused a moment before saying, "Winky." He realized his previous mistake, at least.

"What can Winky be doing for Master?" asked Winky, a moment later.

"Take me to my office," said Harry, holding out his hand.

"Wait," said Hermione but Winky had grabbed Harry and left.

"Grampa!" shouted Harry into the empty frame. When Dumbledore failed to show his face in the next two seconds, he repeated, "Grampa! I need to see you."

"What is it, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, rushing into his frame.

"I need to know," began Harry. "Why is the Avada Kedavra unforgivable?" He was breathing hard but not sure why.

"I would have thought you knew that, Harry," said Dumbledore. "The Avada Kedavra is a killing curse."

"I know what it is," said Harry, impatiently. "What makes it worse than burning people alive? Or cutting them in two? The Avada Kedavra is supposed to be completely painless. Why is it the worst way to kill someone?"

The silence was broken by a pair of apparition pops. Slider brought Minerva and Hermione while Jumper transported Honey and Ron.

"Harry!" shouted Hermione, rushing into his arms. "What's happened?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he looked urgently towards the painting. Dumbledore stood silently, scratching his beard. He finally raised both of his hands and said, "I'm sorry, Harry. The only answer I know is that it is a killing curse. I never questioned it before but I understand your reasoning. If I may ask, why is it so vital, at the moment?"

Harry sank into a chair, tears flooding from his eyes as he sobbed uncontrollably. Hermione said nothing but held on tight as her husband's grief fell to the floor. The others remained silent; waiting for the next part of this tragedy to unfold.

After a few minutes, Harry had recovered enough to talk. "I'll tell you why it matters," he began. "It matters because I know the answer. The Avada Kedavra is the worst curse and it's unforgivable because it doesn't just kill you; it destroys your soul."

No one said anything. This was a totally unexpected statement and they were all trying to work out the implications. Finally, Hermione was able to ask, "How can you know this, Harry? Even Dumbledore doesn't know why that curse is unforgivable."

"I've been talking to Wormtail," said Harry, flatly. "We were discussing Voldemort's resurrection. When he tried to kill me, he used Avada Kedavra. When it rebounded on him, he was reduced to less than a ghost, remember? He wasn't killed because you can't die while your soul survives. But he had spare pieces of his soul hidden away. He needed the piece from Hufflepuff's cup before he was able to get a new body of his own. We've already figured out that the piece in his original body was destroyed; that's why he needed one from a horcrux. It just didn't occur to me what it meant."

Hermione understood. "So you're saying that Avada Kedavra is unforgivable because it destroys a person's soul?"

"Yes," said Harry. "That means that anyone killed that way, like Grampa, aren't just dead. They're..." He couldn't say it.

Hermione realized now why Harry was so shaken up. He had witnessed the curse used twice in the past few years; first Cedric and then Dumbledore. Before that, however, his own parents had died from the same curse. They weren't just dead. "They're gone," finished Hermione for Harry.

Author's Note: Sorry. It's another short chapter. Also, I'm not being mean to Harry for no purpose. This was just one more thing he needed to know on his quest to destroy the horcruxes. I'll give you all a hint for sticking with me this long; it won't be as simple as Avada Kedavraing a horcrux. See you next chapter.

Dad


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61 – Unexpected Guests

October 7th, 1997

Everyone was silent for a moment. For some, like Minerva, the realization was nearly as painful as it was for Harry. Her love of Albus was never at the level as it was for Magnus, but it was real. She had hoped to at least meet with him again, someday; face to face. To have that possibility removed so suddenly and absolutely, well, it made her hurt like she had when she first learned of his death. In such times, most people try to find a chance for hope.

"Perhaps we are misinterpreting things, Harry," she offered. "There may very well be other reasons to explain these circumstances." She didn't look entirely convinced.

"That's right," agreed Hermione. "We don't know for sure, just yet. I'll check my library. That would probably be a good thing to do, in any event. We'll need to try to find out all we can about the Avada Kedavra and exactly what happened when that spell rebounded."

"And I'll ask Rufus," continued Minerva. "As Minister of Magic, he would have access to whatever information that he requested. Perhaps it is still too soon to give up hope."

"Hope? No, I won't give up hope. How could I?" asked Harry, bitterly. "If nothing else, I have the hope of one day leaving Voldemort in the same state as my parents; as Dumbledore; as Cedric and a thousand others."

"That's the spirit, Harry," said Honey, perhaps not quite getting the full gist of what he was saying. "How could anyone know for certain what happens when someone dies, anyway?"

The absurdity of Honey's initial response was enough to cause Harry to laugh, despite himself. This allowed him to evaluate her last question.

"I don't know, Honey," said Harry, after a moment. "I asked Nick about that and even he didn't know. You might be right. If you died at the same time, how could anyone tell what happened to your soul? A lot more was going on at the time he tried to kill me. Maybe something else destroyed his soul during the attack." He cheered up noticeably, despite not yet having a viable alternative to his initial analysis of his parent's status.

"We'll check into it, Harry," confirmed Minerva, nodding to Hermione. "I think this uncertainty is worse than the truth."

"I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, Minerva," said Harry. "Thanks for being so understanding."

"Not at all, Harry," replied Minerva. "Now, if there isn't anything further to discuss at the moment, I suggest we return to our supper." She stood up and, with a word to Slider, she was gone.

"Shall we do the same?" asked Hermione. She stood up as if already expecting the answer.

"You can all go on," said Harry. "I just want to think a bit."

"That, Mr. Potter, is the last thing you need to be doing." Hermione glared sternly at Harry for just a moment before her lips softened into a smile. "I know you only too well. You'll dwell on this for months if I let you. The truth is we just don't know, at the moment. Honey has a valid point; how could you tell if someone's soul was destroyed? I'd like to see the research that led to that conclusion. In the meantime, you can content yourself with the knowledge that there isn't anything you'd be doing different, anyway. We're already working towards destroying Voldemort, once and for all. Now, if you're not hungry, I'd like to try out a couple of translation spells I've discovered."

"Translation spells," asked Honey, allowing Harry the time to recover. "What sort of translation spells?"

"If you'll recall," replied Hermione, noticing that Harry and Ron were both equally attentive and, presumably, ignorant of the answer as Honey, "I've been invited to meet a group of Harry's new friends. Harry claims that when they sound like they want to tear your head off, they're merely chatting about the weather. I, personally, don't want to spend the whole time screaming my head off so I've been searching for some means of communicating; hence the translation spells."

"Oh," said Harry, noncommittally. "Sure. Go ahead and try one." They all looked at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione sighed. "Let's just walk through this. For what type of spell was I looking?"

After a moment, Honey raised her hand.

Hermione fought back a smile and said, "Yes, Honey?"

"A translation spell?" asked Honey, tentatively. "Specifically, an animal translation spell."

"Very good, Honey," said Hermione. "I don't know if they'll work on any animal, though. Now, who can tell me what kind of animal's speech I wish to translate?"

Harry, catching on to Hermione's ribbing of Honey, also raised his hand. "A dragon's?" he asked before receiving permission.

"Very good, Harry," said Hermione. "Now, we need something before we'll be able to try these spells out. Ron? Do you know what that might be?"

"Ooo! Ooo!" articulated Ron, raising his hand wildly. "Ah a on," he said, unashamedly.

"Yes, Ron," replied Hermione, suppressing a tear as she realized that she did, with only a little effort, understand him. "We need a dragon."

Both Harry and Ron immediately started looking around the office as if they expected to see a dragon peeking out of the rubbish bin when Ron did a double take and pointed at Harry. "A e ish uh a on!" he burst out.

"Why, so I am," said Harry in surprise.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "Now that you've figured out the bloody obvious, perhaps we could decide where we'd like to do these tests. Do you think there's enough room left by the statue?"

The statue of Slytherin did sit in the tallest part of the cave. However, their office took up a fair amount of the floor space on one side and their block of flats used up pretty much all that was available on the other. "Why don't we go down by Hagrid's hut?" suggested Harry. "He'd probably like to watch, anyway."

"As long as he isn't busy knitting sockies for his new baby, that should be fine," agreed Hermione. "Are you two coming?"

Honey and Ron looked at each other. Ron shrugged so Honey said, "Sure. Why not?"

The scene at Hagrid's hut was eerily similar to that of a night six years past when the same group, minus Honey, had sat around Hagrid's table discussing the various pitfalls of dragon ownership. In this case, however, the dragon was legal and had the possibility of being trained.

"Does it have to be so hot?" asked Honey, loosening the top of her robes to allow better air flow.

"Aye, Professor," replied Hagrid, setting down four normal and one Hagrid-sized mugs on his table. The remains of his supper waited on it's plate for later. Hagrid had stopped dining in the Great Hall for the time being due to the imminent arrival of his bundle of joy. "The little guy needs to be kept as warm as 'is mum woulda done." He stole a glance at his fireplace, the center of which was occupied by an egg of deepest blue. Although smaller than most dragon eggs, it was still a good eight inches long and Harry could sense that the life contained in it was quite content.

"We'll be outside in a bit," said Harry. "We though you'd like to join us. Hermione thinks she has a spell or two that might make it possible to talk to animals; specifically dragons."

"Aye, that'd be grand," said Hagrid, excitedly. "I'd like to talk to my dragon, when he's old enough, o'course."

"That's what I'm hoping for," said Hermione, "but don't get your hopes up, yet. These spells were used mainly for communication between high-level, sentient beings. They've never been used on dragons before since most people thought dragons were more beast than philosopher."

"I can attest to the fact that the dragons I've met are quite articulate," said Harry, smugly. He was always quick to the defense of his adopted race.

"Why don't we head outside and try them, then?" asked Honey, loosening her robes even more.

"I suppose we..." said Harry and then gave a double take at Honey. "Are you wearing anything under your robes, Honey?" Ron, Hermione and Hagrid all quickly turned towards the blonde.

"Of course I am," said Honey, quickly pulling her robes tightly about her. "Why would you think I wasn't?"

"Well," said Harry, glancing nervously at his wife, "I just didn't really see anything but 'you' when you opened your robes and, ah..." He was already regretting his observational skills.

"Considering all of the people and items in this room," said Hermione, "you seemed to pick up on Honey's clothing, or lack thereof, pretty quickly."

Harry, perhaps foolishly, decided that the truth would serve him. It could also put him on the couch for the night. "I'm a teenage boy, Hermione. Cleavage on a pretty girl gets our attention like a church bell."

Ron nodded enthusiastically bringing out a suppressed giggle from Honey. Honey then said, "It's probably a bit my fault. We woke up late this morning and since I usually don't take off my robes all day, I just threw them on over my nightie."

Hermione didn't look satisfied with that answer. "So how is it we didn't see the nightie?"

Honey blushed but remained silent. Ron, however, wrote a short note and handed it to Hermione.

Hermione read, "I picked it out for her." Looking at Honey, she sighed and said, "You're spoiling that boy."

Ron nodded again and leaned over and gave Honey a kiss on the cheek.

"If I'm in da way," said Hagrid, "Fang'n me'll take a walk."

"I've had all I can stand, too, Hagrid," said Hermione as she started to rise. The others followed suit. "Let's go see if these bloody spells work."

They walked out to Hagrid's back garden to have a bit of privacy. Harry would be much taller than Hagrid's hut while a dragon, of course, but there would at least be some obscuring trees between the castle and him. Harry walked to a spot where he wouldn't get tangled up in anything while Hermione leaned on the fence. The others found some benches, both Hagrid-sized and otherwise, and made themselves comfortable. At least that was the plan. Due to the garden, itself, and the rather well supplied compost pile, more than a few horseflies were in attendance. Hagrid, from long association and thick skin, didn't notice the insects but they were quite irritating for Ron and Honey.

"One of these spells is for me and the other is for you," explained Hermione to Harry. "I was thinking of casting it on you in your human form so as not to have to deal with the natural ability of dragons to deflect magic but that wouldn't really be of any use with the other dragons."

"I suppose not," agreed Harry. Thinking, he added, "It still might be useful even if just I could talk to you properly while a dragon. We'll save that as a last resort."

Hermione nodded and said, "Well, go on, then."

Harry also nodded and quickly assumed his animagus form.

Hermione turned to the others and said, mostly for Hagrid's sake, "Harry will be doing some talking to see if we found the right spell so he might sound threatening. Just remember that it's Harry and he wouldn't hurt any of us." She turned back to face Harry and cast her first spell, at Harry, this time.

The chartreuse beam hit Harry on his belly but he didn't feel anything. Not remembering his part, he waited patiently for Hermione to cast another spell.

The only thing that Hermione cast was an annoyed look in his direction. "Harry!" she shouted towards his distant head. "Try to say something!"

"Oh," said Harry, not noticing Hermione and the others flinch, "Okay. Why don't I start with something simple like, oh, I don't know..." Harry had found one of life's little paradoxes; when you are told to say anything, anything at all, nothing is all you can come up with. His musings on the point, however, were sufficient to cause chaos.

"Ge b'hine me!" shouted Hagrid, standing with his stone bench hoisted over his head, preparing to launch it. Ron and Honey were obeying with Honey adding the vocals while trying to climb behind Ron on his carpet. Hermione had fled towards the hut, also screaming, as she was nationally famous for, like a banshee.

Harry noticed all of this just as the bench came flying his way and quickly returned to human form, allowing the stone furniture to vent it's destruction on a clump of trees just past him. With winter approaching, Hagrid could probably use the firewood, anyway.

"Calm down, everyone!" shouted Harry. He then commented, "I guess that wasn't the spell. Now remember; I'm not attacking anyone. It's the enchantment at work."

"That's easy for you to say," said Hermione. "I swear, Harry; you looked ready to kill us all."

"Ye looked mor'n ready," added Hagrid, walking over to inspect his damaged bench. "Another secon' an ye'd a had us in yer gullet."

"Try to just trust me," said Harry. "Hermione? Do you have another spell to try?"

"I do, Harry," said Hermione. "The other spell will be used on me. If the dragon's speech is being converted to seem like you're attacking us, then a translation spell on us might be the ticket to change it back." Turning to the others, she said, "Have a seat and calm yourselves. This next spell will be just for me so you'll hear Harry roaring again but try to remain aware that it's still Harry."

Ron and Honey, now both on the flying carpet, didn't return to their previous bench but instead took up a position sixty or so feet away from Harry; hovering behind Hagrid on the far side of the garden. Hermione joined them there, standing a few feet in front. "I think some distance will also help us control ourselves," she explained.

Hermione cast her spell, this time on herself. "I think I felt something take effect," she told the others. "Harry. Go ahead and change. Try not to talk so long this time, please. A word or two will do."

"Right," said Harry and he transformed, once again.

At first, Hermione thought she heard Harry talking except she couldn't see his lips moving. It was more like whispers or voices from far off. Then Harry started to act up and was about to breathe fire on her, she was sure. Running backwards, she stopped again as she heard the voices. There were definitely more than one and they were terrified.

"Look out, Paul!" shouted a tiny voice. "He's preparing for another attack!"

"Get away!" shouted another. "Ahhhh!"

"Did that one work, Hermione?" asked Harry, surprising Hermione with the relative booming of his voice. He was back to being Harry again but that didn't stop the other voices.

"Retreat! He's killed the squadron leader, the brute!" shouted one of the muffled voices.

"Harry," said Hermione. "I think there's an attack going on, somewhere."

"Where?" asked Harry, looking around.

"Get into attack formation!" commanded a confident, albeit tiny, voice from nowhere. "We'll concentrate on his head."

"Can't you hear?" asked Hermione. "It sounds like a giant attack. There's one attacker but many defenders."

"Could it be Hogsmeade?" asked Harry.

"That's all I can think of," said Hermione. "Can't you hear them?" She heard the defenders calling to each other as the attacks were continually brushed off by the giant.

"No," said Harry. "I'll go take a spin around the village and see what's up." With that, he apparated into the air and flew off towards Hogsmeade.

"My God! He's just killed three of us with one blow! We don't seem to be making any headway."

"We'll hold him off as long as we can. Prepare to defend the Homeland!"

"Where'd Harry go?" asked Honey.

"He went to check on Hogsmeade," said Hermione, worriedly. "We aren't sure where those shouts are coming from."

"What shouts?" asked Honey and Hagrid, together. Ron didn't speak but looked equally confused.

"It sounds like a battle is taking place," said Hermione. "Can't you hear it, either?" She was starting to question not only her hearing, but her sanity.

"The only battle going on is the one between Ron and these pesky flies," said Honey, swatting at some of the swarm around them.

"The other one's starting in, too," shouted a voice in alarm. "We don't have a chance against two of them."

Hermione watched as Ron resumed his swatting of the horseflies; smiling every time he managed to connect. "Stop, Ron!" she shouted, realizing what was happening.

Ron looked confused. He wasn't doing anything. Honey asked for him, "Stop what?"

"Stop swatting the flies," commanded Hermione, almost in hysterics. "I can hear them. It's horrible."

"You can hear them?" asked Honey. Even Hagrid looked doubtful.

"Yes," said Hermione. "They're defending their homeland, whatever that might be." She glanced around and saw the compost pile. Laughing bitterly, she said, "Let's go over by the house, away from them. I don't want to be here when they start the funerals."

"Maybe ye' need a quick lie down," suggested Hagrid. "That last spell mighta been a bit off, yer know."

Harry, still in dragon form, returned about ten minutes later. He circled the area of the hut twice before coming in for a landing. Immediately changing back into himself, he made his report.

"I checked all around Hogsmeade," he began. "Nothing unusual was..."

"I know, I know," said Hermione. "We figured out the problem. Please don't ask; at least not until tomorrow. It might be funny by then."

Harry was confused, but obedient. "Okay," he said, "do you have any other spells to try?"

"I did," said Hermione, "but they're basically variations on the same theme. We might come back to them but I have another idea I'd like to check on, first. In the meantime, why don't we try you out with a scarf?"

"Did you make one?" asked Harry.

"Not yet," answered Hermione, "but I might be able to borrow one from Hagrid. Hagrid, could you lend me a spare sheet for a bit?"

"S'pose so," answered Hagrid, not quite up on their intentions. He went to his hut and quickly returned with an old, battered sheet that had definitely seen better days. "Here yer go, Hermione. What'cha be needin' it fer, anyhow?"

"We're trying to find out if the animagus clothing enchantment works as well when changing back into a human as it does for changing into your animal shape," explained Hermione.

"Since when've dragons worn clothes?" asked Hagrid, reasonably.

"He'll only be wearing a scarf," replied Hermione. "He thinks it would look 'cool'." She did manage a disapproving scowl.

"The real reason is that if this works," added Honey, "we'll try some goggles so that Harry's eyes will be more protected when he flies fast."

"The eyes're the weak spot on dragon's, al'right," nodded Hagrid. "I don't think my sheet'll go aroun'im, though."

"Fortunately," responded Hermione, "I'm a witch." With that, she hung the sheet over a low-hanging branch and transfigured it into a ragged scarf approximately forty feet long. "Go ahead and change, Harry."

Harry stepped back a few paces and changed into a dragon. He waited for Hermione to magically wrap the scarf about his neck but she had an even more direct approach.

Handing one end to Honey, she asked, "Could the two of you wrap this around Harry's neck?"

Honey and Ron both smiled. It was, after all, an excuse to fly, something they both enjoyed very much. Within a few seconds, Harry had two wraps of the scarf around him and, after another few seconds to make a few ridiculous heroic poses with his head up and the scarf blowing in the breeze, he changed back into Harry. The scarf was nowhere to be seen.

Feeling around his neck, Harry commented, "That seemed to work just fine. Do I look the same?" He turned towards Hermione for her evaluation.

Looking all around his neck and shoulders, she finally said, " I don't see anything. I guess that effect works coming and going. I'm not sure how we'll properly fit you for your goggles but I don't see why they wouldn't work the same."

"I know a few measurement spells," said Honey. "My mum taught them to me when I learned how to sew."

"Try to get some measurements for the scarf, too," said Harry, enthusiastically. "I want it to go around twice, like this one but it should flow out a bit further." He tried to indicate his thoughts by taking another pose while holding his hand out behind him to show the general length.

"Oh, good grief," said Hermione. "I suppose next you'll want to commission some theme music for when you fly into battle."

Ron and Harry both looked at each other with astonished grins on their faces. "That's brilliant, Hermione," exclaimed Harry. Ron nodded wholeheartedly. "But how would we play it?"

"Maybe yer could 'um it while flyin'," suggested Hagrid.

"I don't know if they'd be able to do it but you could get some nice harmony if the elves could pitch in," added Honey. Ron started to get out his pen and paper when Hermione had had enough.

"Let's try to stay on topic, people," she said, impatiently. "Let's get Hagrid's sheet back to him, take whatever measurements we need and head back inside. It gets cool pretty quickly at night, this time of year."

"Okay," said Harry, hurriedly. "Just give me a second to run this by Ron and Honey before I forget it, okay?"

"Forget what?" asked Hermione.

"This," answered Harry. Turning to Ron and Honey, he hummed, "Dum, dum de doo, de diddly diddly do dum; dum, dum de doo, de diddlydiddly do do de dum..."

"That's pretty good, Harry," said Honey. "You need a running bass line, though, to give it some ..."

"I'm going inside," said a resigned Hermione. "Be sure to finish up with what we need before you start hiring John Williams, okay?"

"No problem," called back Harry as Hagrid went to his hut to find his fife.

Late that night, Harry and Hermione were startled awake when Slider popped into their bedroom. "Harry Potter; Death Eaters are at Hogwarts."

"What?" asked Harry, although he understood the statement. "Where?" Both he and Hermione began to frantically start dressing.

"The Death Eaters is being outside the gates of Hogwarts, Harry Potter," clarified Slider.

"How many are there?" asked Hermione, not noticing that she was, once again, less than properly dressed in the presence of the elf.

"Two, Mistress Hermione," answered Slider, turning towards the witch as she decided to forgo her bra in the name of expediency.

"Two?" asked Harry. "Are they just standing there, or what?"

"Slider isn't being knowing, Harry Potter," said Slider, truthfully. "They is being on the main road outside the gates when Slider is coming to get Harry Potter."

Harry and Hermione both finished pulling their last boot on at the same moment. Grabbing their wands, Harry said, "Slider, gather your commandos and pop on either side of them in one minute. I'll apparate to the top of the Astronomy Tower and fly down. Use your anti-apparition wards to prevent their escape. The minute starts... now." Slider popped away.

"Hermione," he continued, "go wake Ron and Honey. Let's see; you'd better bring Luna, as well. I'll meet you in the Fortress in a few minutes."

"Harry," said Hermione, "be careful. It might be a..." but Harry had gone. Muttering under her breath, she went to summon the required people.

"Karl," hissed Gary in a horse whisper. "Why are we here? Everyone knows that Potter's somewhere near the North Pole."

"He can't spend all of his time there," replied Karl. "I've heard reports that he's still a student."

"That's just his cover story," countered Gary. "I'll bet he only stops in from time to time, just to keep up appearances."

"Would you rather head north? A fat lot of good that did Karkaroff." Karl started to examine the gates for a means to open them.

"I was in on the hit," agreed Gary. "We knew about where he was all the time. Master just wanted to let him squirm awhile before..." He joined Karl in his searching. "Maybe there's a bell or something."

After another minute of fruitless activity, Gary suggested, "Maybe there's still time to go back. We could say we were looking for the others."

"For two days?" asked Karl, incredulously. "I don't think you'd convince anyone of that. No; our only hope is Potter."

"I hope you're right," opined Gary. "He's stopped killing us on sight, at least. The trick will be to..."

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

Karl and Gary instinctively went for their wands. Gary's flew from his hand due to surprise and a poor grip and clattered on the cobblestones. Karl was trying to make his decision as he felt several spells hit him. They seemed to do no damage and he was almost ready to fight when a shadow blocked out the gate lamps. An enormous red and gold dragon that he recognized only too well had landed in front of the two of them. While he was still shocked, one of the red robed figures raised his arm and Karl watched in surprise as his wand flew out of his hand. When he turned back, the dragon was gone and Harry Potter stood before him; wand out.

"Slider," said Harry, "check the boundaries of the grounds for more of them. Leave three of your group here. We'll be going on a little trip."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Slider. He selected the three guards and left with the rest.

Harry examined the Death Eaters standing; well, shaking nervously before him. Sleepy handed him their wands. "Let's see," he mused, "I doubt you were mounting an assault. The Main Gate would be a pretty poor hiding spot for spying. You haven't tried to sell me any magazine subscriptions. I give up. Why are you here?" He waited for their answer, exuding confidence in their inability to either escape or harm him.

Gary and Karl looked briefly at each other before Karl said, "We're here because we need your protection." Gary nodded silently.

"My protection?" asked Harry. "From who? Or would that be from whom?" He looked more concerned with his grammar than their answer.

"The Dark Lord," said Gary, softly and with fear. He instinctively looked around him as he said it.

Harry looked around as well, mockingly. "Tommy's got you scared, does he?" he asked with a grin. "I'm not sure what the score is but the last I checked, I've killed more of you than he has. Why come to me for help?"

Again, silently deciding on their spokesman, Karl answered. "You've killed a lot of us, alright, but only in battle. We've read about how you treat your prisoners and we'd rather take our chances with you."

"At least you won't be hacking our arms off," muttered Gary, under his breath.

"Oh, bad luck," said Harry, faking a frown. "I suppose there's no time like the present. Stupify!"

About ten minutes later, Harry popped into the office of the Fortress. A second later, he was joined by Gary, Karl, Slider, Sleepy and Jumper.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Honey. This had the effect of rousing both Hermione and Ron. Luna and Dougal both sat nearby but had been able to maintain a fair amount of consciousness since their arrival. Ron, naturally, was the most relaxed, sitting with his carpet draped over his custom made stool while his head and arms were draped over the tabletop.

Harry looked around, counting. "We never seem to have enough chairs," he whined, quickly summoning a few spare dining room chairs. "Could you wake our guests, please?" He addressed the elves as a group.

In a matter of seconds, Karl and Gary were both starting to show signs of life. Hermione was already headed to the potions cabinet to get them their pain relievers.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," offered Harry as his newest prisoners struggled to get to their feet. It was during this first activity that they both noticed their missing left arms.

"Bloody hell!" shouted Gary, frantically feeling around for his arm. Karl was doing the same for a moment before he, being the brighter of the two, dropped his one arm to his side in frustration. At this point, Harry indicated their chairs and ordered them to be seated. After they had sat themselves down and finished the potions brought by Hermione, they seemed ready to talk.

"Where's our arms?" asked Gary, trying to suppress his panic.

"At the North Pole," answered Harry.

"Not quite," corrected Hermione. "They're 130 miles away from there."

"Why'd you cut them off in the first place?" asked Karl.

"Probably for the same reason Voldemort was planning to do so," reasoned Harry. "They can be traced. In your case, he wanted to cut them off to keep them from being traced by me. I, however, needed to prevent them from being traced by him. Ironic, isn't it?"

Gary and Karl looked at each other one more time. Karl turned away before saying, "Can't win for losing, on that deal."

"On the bright side," said Hermione, "you'll probably survive this war. That is, unless Voldemort wins. In that case, you'll probably not be invited to the victory feast."

"Sadly true," agreed Harry. "Now, it's quite late so let's get started. You've mentioned that Voldemort has begun to remove the Dark Marks in the only way he can. What else do you know about why he's doing this and what prompted you to run?"

"Well," began Gary, "it's true enough that the Dark Lord can find us through our marks and he must know that you can do the same. Two days ago, I think; well, on Sunday night, at any rate, he calls us all together in the main hall and tells us we need to be proving our loyalty by trusting him. He's talking about how some of us won't be put to the test and will be doing other stuff but the rest of us needed our Dark Marks taken off."

"What do you mean by 'other stuff'?" asked Hermione.

"He didn't say," answered Karl. "About forty or so had their names called and they left with Rookwood."

"Did you see any of them again?" asked Harry.

"Didn't have the chance,"answered Karl. "Gary and I left about an hour later."

"I take it you didn't wish to prove your loyalty?" asked Harry. "What, exactly, did he ask you to do."

Both men shivered. After a moment, Gary said, "There was no 'asking' about it. He had Macnair next to him and we were ordered to come up, one by one, and ..."

"Snape was first," continued Karl. He seemed to understand Gary's difficulty in telling this tale. "Master wanted to show that no one was exempt. Snape didn't seem too pleased but what could he do. Master had him put his left arm on a tall, sturdy table. Macnair pulled his axe and took off Snape's arm just above the elbow. Dropped Snape to the ground like a dead man."

"Oh, my," said Honey. "Was he alright?"

Even Luna looked at her in disbelief. "I'm pretty sure, Professor," she said, in her patient way, "that anyone who just had their arm chopped off, couldn't be described as being 'alright', in any sense of the word."

"You're right about that," acknowledged Karl. "Blood was gushing out of the wound, of course. Snape was screaming like he'd never stop. He did, though, after Master said something to him."

"Snape stood up and the Dark Lord stopped the bleeding," added Gary. "It took him a minute, but he eventually was able to control himself. Snape then picked up his arm and carried it over to the fireplace and tossed it in."

"He had to put his own arm in the fire?" asked Dougal. He was, of course, the most versed with the ways of Voldemort but occasionally even he was surprised.

"Yes," said Karl. "I think that was the 'prove yourself' part. After that, Snape walked over and knelt down in front of the Dark Lord, and raised his left arm. Our Master then conjured a silver arm that attached itself to Snape's stump."

"Just like Wormtail's," said Harry to the group. "He left it silver, then?"

"I suppose so," said Gary. "Snape pulled his robes over the top but whenever I caught sight of his hand, it was silver."

They all sat silently for a moment before Ron wrote a short note which he handed to Honey. "If you were in the room with everyone else, how was it you still had your arms when you arrived?"

"We were near the back of the room," explained Karl. "After about the twentieth bloody time Macnair chopped off an arm, the Dark Lord ordered him to stop. He didn't say why, but he seemed to be a bit out of breath, if you know what I mean."

"I do," said Harry, grimly. "I was beat after only a half dozen or so." He looked a bit disheartened by Voldemort's apparent conjuring superiority.

"Don't feel bad, dear," said Hermione. "He was only doing silver arms. Your's look much better."

"I wasn't envious of his arms, Hermione," said Harry. "I was just thinking that we'll never have a better head to head comparison and he came out about three times as powerful as me. When we go against each other, that could be a problem."

"You won't be facing him alone," said Hermione, solemnly. Ron reached out and put his hand on Harry's. Honey stiffened a bit at the implication but it was Luna who spoke next.

"I don't think it's a fair comparison, Harry," she said in her usual ethereal voice. "You'll have the advantage when the time comes."

"How's that, Luna," asked Harry. He had begun to respect her comments, but still wanted to know if he could wrap himself around her reasoning. This was, after all, fairly important.

"Silly," she teased. "It's your love, of course. You have enough power to produce the arms and legs without much trouble but without love, Ron and Headmistress McGonagall would have been far beyond your abilities." She thought a moment and added, "Hermione wouldn't be here now, either. Or Martha. Let's see; is that all?" She started to think for a moment while the rest sat in silence. After a few seconds, she started humming 'Weasley is our king' and the rest let her go off until the next time her orbit brought her within range.

"Luna's right," said Honey. "When you turn it all the way up, like you did in Ron's hospital room, I could feel it. I think everyone could. That might be what wins it for you."

"Thanks, everyone," said Harry. "I've been a bit moody tonight. I think I'm still worried about the truth behind the Avada Kedavra."

"You seemed pretty concerned at supper," agreed Dougal. "What was that all about, anyway?"

"I'd rather not get into it, again, if you don't mind," said Harry. "At least for now. We won't know for sure until we hear from the Minister."

"Fair enough," said Dougal, "but you might want to have a word with your relatives. They left pretty bloody fast after you did."

"I'll bet they did," said Hermione. "They were doing pretty well, too. I suppose having all that commotion their first time inside and then everyone just vanishing must have been fairly upsetting."

"I was surprised, too," said Harry, leaning back in his chair. "You know..." He stopped short; noticing the people sitting opposite him. "Maybe we'd best wait on the rest until morning when we're a bit more on the ball." He had completely forgotten that this was supposed to be an interrogation of new Death Eaters.

"I tend to agree," said Hermione, who had been wondering when Harry would meander back to business.

"As for the two of you," began Harry, addressing Gary and Karl, "your immediate fate rests on one question; just how truthful have you been?" He turned to face Luna. Dougal nudged her slightly.

"Oh," she said, "is it my turn, again?" Karl and Gary gave each other the 'This group is the greatest threat to Lord Voldemort?' look.

"Yes, Luna," said Harry. "What have you picked up on our new friends, here."

"Well, they seem to be telling you the truth, so far," she said. "I'm pretty sure they aren't under any sort of a spell like the others. This one," she indicated Gary, "has had a part, at least, in murder or something extremely bad. The other one might have, as well, but he isn't as affected by it." Gary and Karl both seemed a bit stunned by her read. Luna had seemed to be a strange choice as attendee of this meeting, as far as they could tell. Her read, though, gave them pause for thought as they both realized how different things might have gone had they tried to make up some sort of a lie. When she was present, honesty was the best policy.

Harry, perhaps due to lack of sleep or, just as likely, due to the general friendliness of the meeting, said, "All right, you two; stand up and hold back your left sleeves."

Karl and Gary both stood. Gary was a bit confused but Karl sensed what might happen. He eagerly rolled back his sleeve while Gary did so less enthusiastically.

"I have to see the stumps," directed Harry, beginning to cast his spell while his prisoners corrected their clothing. First Karl, and then Gary, each received a new arm. They smiled, relieved, as they moved them about and checked their operation.

"I normally don't do that, at least not so soon," informed Harry, "but you two chose to leave Voldemort, although your reasons were selfish rather than philosophical. Nevertheless, you have been cooperative. Continue to be so and we have other perks. Slider. See them to their cells; we'll put them in the medium sized ones, for now."

"Thank you, sir," said Karl, with Gary nodding soon after. Strider and Jumper took an arm each and popped off with the pair.

"Why were you so nice to those Death Eaters?" asked Hermione. The others waited; interested in the reply.

"They became disenchanted with Lord Voldemort," said Harry, "and they came to me for protection. I think that we, and by 'we', I mean Ron, should be able to come up with a way to use this to our advantage. The better we treat them, the more likely we'll attract some of their mates."

With a shrug, they let it drop for now. As they headed for the door, Harry noticed a new decoration on the wall, shaped like a snowflake. "Where'd this come from," he said, reaching out to touch it.

"Don't!" shouted Hermione, but it was too late. Harry had vanished.

"Like a bloody six year old," grumped Hermione as she pressed the snowflake to chase her idiot husband.

Author's note: Don't worry. The snowflake should be enough of a clue as to where they went.

Dad


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62 - The Prophecy

October 8th, 1997

The next morning, Harry and his comrades sat at their accustomed locations while eating breakfast. With the exception of Ron, who generally required an uninterrupted night's sleep to operate on all cylinders, they showed little sign of their midnight interview. The level of hushed whispers, however, was somewhat elevated.

"We'll need to alert Martha, of course," said Hermione. "From what we now know, virtually any Death Eaters we come across could be assumed to be on the run. We should pick them up to prevent them from being caught and killed."

"That sounds fair enough," agreed Harry. "I don't know why we bother, to tell the truth. Having Voldemort chase down his own men might give them an idea of how it's been for the general public. It might even have an effect on the ones doing the chasing. Having to kill your old mates has to be bad for morale."

"I'm starting to get worried," said Honey. "It doesn't bother me as much when you talk like that."

"Talk like what?" asked Harry and Hermione, together. They looked at each other and shrugged.

Ron finished the note he had started a few moments earlier and handed it to Hermione. She read, "If you'll recall, some of the Death Eaters did not have their arms removed. We need to determine why and their mission."

"The ones chosen to be left intact might have a common characteristic," suggested Harry. "We'll need to get a memory from one of the new guys. I'd like to see the expression on Snape's face when the axe came down, too." He smiled.

"Ummy ooh," said Ron, nodding, while Hermione chuckled. (Me, too.)

"You could sell tickets," said Dougal.

"Okay," said Honey, "it's starting to bother me again."

"I'm glad to hear that, Professor," said Luna. "I think that all of us should take it as a warning when we stop caring about people; even Death Eaters."

Harry was chastened a bit as he recalled her earlier comment about how he was becoming a bit more callous towards his enemies. He was chasing a man with serious soul problems and had to be careful not to emulate him.

"I think that might be easier said than done in my family," offered Ginny. "We've been hit pretty hard and it's not that easy to just forgive and forget." She looked at Ron, thoughtfully.

"Oo ahhed et, shish," agreed Ron. (You said it, Sis.)

"You can't let it eat at you though," countered Neville. "It'll wreck your life, in time."

"That's easy for you to say," said Ginny. "Look what they did to my brother. Two of them, in fact."

"Look what they did to my parents," said Neville, quietly.

Ginny immediately went pale. "I'm so sorry, Neville," she said, softly, trying to take his hand. "You never go on about it so sometimes I forget that you're just as entitled as anyone to want a piece of Voldemort."

Neville was sullen for just a few seconds. At Ginny's continued hugs, he quickly lighted back up.

"That's alright, Ginny," he said. "Lestrange was the one that I really wanted to see go down. Harry took care of her for me."

"She deserved it for Sirius, too," added Harry. "And for what she did to McGonagall. I wonder what could make a woman that twisted?"

"She probably never fell in love with as wonderful a man as you," said Hermione. She leaned over to receive her kiss but was distracted as the morning owls started to swoop down with the mail.

As usual, she went for the paper first and was soon buried deep within it's pages.

"This couldn't be Rufus' answer so soon, could it?" asked Harry. Hermione pulled her head out of the Prophet to find Harry examining an official Ministry of Magic envelope.

"I doubt it," she replied, "but you never know. Open it up."

Harry complied and started to read the letter. It was short and to the point.

Dear Mr. Potter. It has come to our attention here at the Improper use of Magic Office that you might have been and/or are currently apparating without a valid license. If this is true, please stop IMMEDIATELY. Without achieving the level of proficiency necessary to secure a proper license, you are possibly in danger of injuring yourself. A hearing on this matter has been scheduled for tomorrow morning at ten o'clock in this office. Please arrange alternate transportation so as not to compound the offense.

If our records are in error, please be prepared to show proof of certification.

Hoping you are well,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Department Head

"They've got to be joking," said Honey.

"They've got to be joking," said Harry.

"Honey just said that," said Ginny.

"I know," said Harry, "but once wasn't enough."

Hermione set the envelope down onto the table after she had reread it, twice. "They aren't joking."

"Ayes ot oh ee oh oo aye an it," said Ron, perhaps too quickly.

"Come again, Ron?" asked Harry.

Ron pulled out his pen and paper and started to write as Harry looked over his best mate's shoulder to see a small group of Slytherin's laughing at Blaise Zabini doing what at first sight seemed like an ape impersonation but which Harry realized a half second later was a parody of Ron's attempts to talk.

"Harry," warned Hermione as she sensed the sudden change in Harry's mood and it's cause. It was too late.

The acoustics of the Great Hall were such that the sound of the first apparition pop that Harry made when leaving the side of Hermione was echoed back to the Slytherin table a moment later as he reappeared behind Zabini. Zabini, like most of the Slytherins, had instinctively looked up at the first sound and missed the second.

"Where'd Potty go?" asked Zabini.

"I'm right here, you bastard," said Harry, hotly. With a surge that would make any rugby team proud, those nearest the epicenter cleared benches, tables, dishes and fellow students out of their way in a stampede to safety. Left behind, of course, was Blaise Zabini. His contribution to the overall effect was immediately soiling himself.

"You've dug your grave deep enough!" shouted Harry. "It's time to..."

"Mr. Potter!" shouted McGonagall, rushing down towards him with most of the teachers in tow. Her wand was out and her face was a vivid scarlet as fire danced in her eyes. "What on earth could have prompted such an uncalled for..."

"He was 'calling' for it, all right," spat Harry, just as angrily. "He was mocking Ron! He was... He..." Harry couldn't speak any more.

"I don't care what he was doing," said McGonagall. "You have no right to... to..." She caught sight of both Ron and Honey's faces as her words took effect. Turning back and forth between Ron, Honey, Harry and Blaise, she continued, "I mean, I do care, of course, but it should have been handled, well..."

"Personally, I think it probably turned out as best as could be expected. Blaise has figured out that it's not a good idea to insult someone recovering from a major injury and Harry didn't kill him." It was Luna, of all people, that remained calm and thoughtful. "Of course, if Blaise isn't as smart as I think he is, Harry will probably finish him off, next time."

Under control a bit but still seething, Harry said, to Blaise, "There had better not be a 'next time' or Luna will be right. I swear; lay off Ron or they won't even find your ashes."

"Detention, Potter," said McGonagall. "I cannot allow you to threaten students. Eight o'clock, tonight; my office. Zabini. You've had your warning. I will not be intervening on your behalf if there is a repeat of your actions." With that, she headed back up to her seat.

Harry maintained his stare at Zabini just long enough for him to understand that a possible detention or two would not slow him down in the least. He then returned to his seat without another word.

There seemed to be quite a bit of conversation during the rest of breakfast but, oddly, not a word of it was loud enough to carry as far as Harry.

Harry sat silently as did his wife and friends. He kept sneaking peeks at Hermione from time to time but she remained silent. Eventually, he couldn't stand it any more. "Well?" he asked. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Hermione set down her spoon and considered her response. After a few seconds, she answered, "No, Harry. Everyone has their breaking point and what those cretins were doing was certainly enough to push most people to act. I'd like you to consider one change, should the situation arise, again."

Harry waited a moment before asking, "I can think of a few things that might have been an improvement. What did you have in mind?"

"Make sure there aren't any witnesses," replied Hermione with the shadow of a smirk.

After breakfast, Honey and Hermione went to their respective classes while Harry and Ron went down to their office to discuss the letter from the Ministry with Grampa.

"I would tend to agree with Ron," said Grampa after being filled in on the contents of the letter and Ron's analysis of it's intent. "This letter is meant to get you to the Ministry more than into trouble." He thought a moment more before adding, "It might also be another means to get you out of Hogwarts."

"They wouldn't try an attack here, would they," asked Harry. "I mean, it's not like I couldn't be notified of any trouble and return in two seconds. What would be the point?"

"I don't know," replied Grampa. "There is a third unknown that might play a part. The un, ah, damaged Death Eaters. If Tom is so sure that we are able to detect his men, why leave some unsecured?"

Ron wrote, 'Maybe some sort of suicide attack? He might just get Harry alone in Diagon Alley and come at him from all sides.'

"A possibility," said Harry. Then, after a moment's thought, he countered, "That wouldn't make sense, though. If he knows I'd know they were there, there wouldn't be much hope for success."

"Forty to one aren't Fools Odds for the Death Eaters," said Grampa, gravely. "I caution you on becoming overconfident in your abilities. As you have already noticed, Lord Voldemort has more raw magical power than you, by far. Many of his followers are much more of a threat than the ones you have battled to date."

Harry was stung; not by the criticism but by the truth in it.

"I hope I haven't hurt your feelings, Harry," said Grampa, uncharacteristically sarcastic in tone.

"Of course not, sir," said Harry. "I need to be put in my place, now and again."

"Ayk Ay En e," said Ron, smiling. (Like Zabini)

Harry blushed at the reminder but said nothing.

"I didn't quite catch that," said Grampa. "It appears that you did, Harry. What's up?" He sat back in his chair, perceiving from the visual clues that this might be an amusing tale.

Harry wasn't pleased with telling this story but figured that McGonagall would discuss it with Grampa, anyway. It was best to get his side out.

"Well," he began, "I had a bit of a run-in with Zabini. We were eating breakfast and discussing the letter and all and Ron was joining in a bit. He's coming along very nicely, if you hadn't noticed."

"I have," replied Grampa, "and I expect he'll be driving us all insane with his non-stop babbling before we know it." Ron stuck his tongue out at the portrait but smiled, nevertheless.

"I suppose," said Harry. "Anyway, Ron said something a bit too quickly. I didn't catch it and he decided to write it down. While he was doing this, I noticed Zabini entertaining his little pals with an impersonation of, I guessed, an ape trying to talk. It was pretty obvious they were mocking Ron and, well, I sort of, um, joined their little party to voice my opinion." He gulped and blushed some more.

"I see," said Grampa. "And how long will it take Madam Pomfrey to put everyone back together?"

"I didn't hurt anyone," explained Harry. "A few might have been bruised a bit during the stampede, though."

"I take it more than one person thought you were going to do a bit more than 'voice your displeasure'?" asked Grampa, deciding that if no one was hurt, it was a funny story.

"I was ready to kill him," said Harry, meekly. "I'm not kidding. If McGonagall hadn't stepped in, I'd be a murderer." His blush had receded into an ashen face as he realized just how close he had come.

"Harry," said Grampa, suddenly somber again. "You are not a bad person. You've had so many shocks in the last few weeks that an overreaction to an admittedly vicious insult directed towards a friend is not unforeseeable. It is the strain breaking through. You are only seventeen, after all. You should be worrying about your next quidditch match, not a possible attack from dozens of Death Eaters." He thought for a moment before continuing. "Minerva and I were just discussing that, oddly enough. Not your instability, of course, but quidditch."

"Quidditch?" asked Harry. He hadn't given quidditch a thought for weeks.

"Yes, Harry," replied Grampa. "We were discussing whether or not it was safe to allow it, this year."

Harry thought for a moment. "I think that it should be safe enough," he finally said. "Actually, that might not be true. I was thinking that we could monitor the grounds for Death Eaters, but that's coming to an end; at least for now."

"True," agreed Grampa. "I think the incident today, though, made the case I was trying to make to Minerva. She was leaning towards caution but I thought, as you have stated yourself, from time to time, that we can't just hide and hope Tom goes away. Your commandos should be sufficient to defend the grounds, if an attack does occur, for enough time to withdraw to the castle, at least."

"I'm not sure I agree," said Harry. "I mean, I don't know if it is worth the risk. I'm sure Slider and his group would be sufficient security but it is, after all is said and done, just a game."

Ron looked at Harry as if he thought that he'd gone mad, which was exactly what he thought. "Cah ist issa jus a ai ma!" (Quidditch isn't just a game!)

"I know it's the center of your universe, Ron," said Harry, consolingly, "but, in the end, it's a game."

Ron grumped back into his stool, annoyed at Harry's lack of perspective.

"Actually, Harry," said Grampa, "quidditch is much more than a game; at least in your case. It is a means to vent your frustrations and hostilities without going to the point of actually wanting to kill someone. I think you need it."

Harry thought about it. He did miss the thrill of the chase. The leadership skills he learned while team captain last year had also come in handy. "You might be right, Grampa," he finally agreed. "I don't think I have the time to put into being captain, this year, and maybe beater would be a better position to work out my anger issues, but I have to admit, I miss it."

"Now you're talking, Harry," said Grampa. "I suppose the new captain is an obvious choice."

"Ginny," said Harry, as if it were, indeed, obvious.

"Right family, wrong gender," said Grampa. "I was referring to Ron." Ron sat up, suddenly very, VERY interested.

"I sort of assumed that Ron wouldn't be able to play this year," said Harry, finally voicing his long-held opinion since it seemed that Grampa thought otherwise.

"That is most likely true, Harry," said Grampa, "but there is nothing in the rules that state the captain of the team has to play. Ron's experience and knowledge would make him a fine leader. I do agree, though, that it would be difficult to compete on a carpet. The maneuverability just isn't there."

Harry remained silent on this while Ron considered. After a few seconds, he stroked the fringe of his carpet and nodded his head. "I an ba, ba-e ap ain oh," he said, smiling. (I can be captain, though.)

Harry beamed at him. It had been unsaid and unthought since Ron's injury. Ron's disabilities had not only robbed him of his speech and legs; they had removed his favorite; well, second favorite, pastime. To become involved again, if only as coach, would be a major step back to normalcy.

"Now that we've solved that major crisis," said Grampa, "there still seems to be the slight problem of this hearing, tomorrow."

"I think the hearing is just an excuse," said Harry, reiterating their earlier conclusion. "Everyone knows I can apparate, as you used to say, pretty much anywhere I want."

"But do you know all the rules?" asked Grampa. "There is a written test, you know."

"I know," said Harry, suddenly trying to remember the plethora of minutia involved in proper apparition technique. "How bad is this test?"

"It's not quite as bad as some other tests I've been forced to endure," said Grampa. "I remember twenty or thirty years ago, I was attending to some business in the United States and had to obtain a drivers license. I had been able to drive for decades, of course, but used only common sense while doing so. One question in particular comes to mind. It involved the significance of the number of reflectors on these little stakes they placed along the main roads. I didn't know that when there were three reflectors while driving on an expressway, it meant an exit was near. Silly me; I always referred to those huge thirty foot wide signs when discerning that sort of information. That one question put me over the limit and I had to take the test again, after more study."

"Thanks," said Harry. "That's very encouraging. I suppose that I could talk Hermione into drinking some polyjuice and impersonating me for the written part."

"Do you think that would be easier than just taking the test yourself?" asked Grampa, peering over his glasses.

"Not really," said Harry, coming back to reality. "I'll dig out my book."

Ron had been writing down a few thoughts during this last exchange and handed them to Harry. Harry read, "I think we're right on the hearing; it's just an excuse. The trouble won't begin until you're outside, either before or after. If the unfixed Death Eaters are going to be involved, we need to have the commandos on hand to help out. If the undetectable Death Eaters are the ones attacking you, we need to have the commandos on hand to help out."

"It might be a bit subtle for you," said Harry, "but I've detected a common thread in your plan."

"He's right, you know," said Grampa. "The only way to know that you'll be safe is for Slider and his team to be in place before you even arrive. As has been demonstrated, Voldemort has discovered a way to prevent both their arrival and your escape. They need to be with you from the onset."

"I suppose that can be arranged," said Harry, thinking. "Two of them can be under invisibility cloaks and the rest just scattered around the grounds of the Ministry. I'm not sure what else we can do, without further information."

Ron wrote, 'Maybe it's time to talk to those new blokes." He looked to Harry for an opinion.

"I think you're right," said Harry. "I'd like for Luna to be with us but I'm not sure if she has any free hours, today."

"Harry," said Grampa. "Time is a bit more critical than usual. If we had days to plan, it would be inappropriate to disrupt a class. In this case, however, you need the information and you need it soon."

Harry had to agree. He needed information on an attack that might take place tomorrow. It would be in public, no less, and innocent lives might be in danger. If Luna needed to miss a class, it didn't matter. He looked at the clock. Ten minutes until the end of first period.

"Jumper," he said.

"What can Jumper be doing for Harry Potter?" asked Jumper, the elf who had become sort of second in command to Slider.

"Where is Luna Lovegood, Jumper?" asked Harry.

"Luna Lovegood is being in class, Harry Potter," replied Jumper.

"I need to know which class, Jumper," explained Harry. "Who's the professor with her?"

"Professor Trelawney is being teaching the class of Luna Lovegood," answered Jumper.

"Great," said Harry. "The one class that it wouldn't matter a bit if she missed. Oh, well. Thanks, Jumper."

"Harry Potter is most welcome," said Jumper and left.

"I'll meet her in Divination and see if she has an hour free this morning," said Harry. He pulled on his invisibility cloak and waited a few minutes until the class bell should have rung before apparating into the Divination classroom.

Some people might have heard him arrive, judging from a few looks around, but no one gave it a second thought. Harry waited in a nook by the opening until he saw Luna.

"Luna," he whispered as he tapped her on the shoulder. It didn't surprise him as much as it would have in the past that she didn't jump. "It's me; Harry. Wait up a bit, please."

Luna didn't blink an eye but simply sat on a stool as if to tie her shoes. Ginny stopped by to wait for her. After the other students had left, Luna said simply, "You can go on, Ginny. I have to talk to Harry for a moment."

"Harry?" asked Ginny, surprised.

Harry decided to expedite the situation by saying, "Hi, Ginny."

"Oh," said Ginny, startled. She regained her composure quickly, though and said, "I'll tell Professor Triffle that you might be a few minutes late."

"Thanks, Ginny," said Luna as they both watched her climb down the ladder.

After Ginny had left, Harry looked around the room, also including the usually unnecessary step of sensing those nearby before speaking. He lowered his cloak to talk.

"Luna," he said. "I need your help. Do you have an hour free? Perhaps before noon?"

"I have a free hour after Potions, Harry," she replied. "I was going to join Dougal in checking some homework for Professor Binns but if it's important, I'm always ready to help you."

"Binns?" asked Harry, chiding himself a moment later for not minding his own business.

"Yes," said Luna. "He's been doing quite a bit of that sort of thing, lately. I haven't asked him why, though."

Just as well, thought Harry. "It is important, Luna. Have Jumper bring you down after Potions."

"Okay, Harry," said Luna as she stood to make her way to Triffle's classroom.

Before he realized what was happening, Trelawney was next to them.

"Hello, Professor," said Harry, wondering how long it would take to extract himself from her presence.

Trelawney didn't respond, immediately. Both Harry and Luna looked at her. She seemed to be a bit odder than normal.

"Are you feeling alright, Professor?" asked Luna, offering her hand to the older witch.

Trelawney stood straight as a string and spoke. It was the same voice she used in his presence once before.

"The Widow shall die to learn the truth of the mystery of Life that's hiding,

The Two shall be one, for a while at least as her lover's time he is biding.

When the Moon is in the Seventh House and friends are united in sadness,

The Good Son will take the life that he seeks from the purest of evil's madness.

The Greater Love shall rule the day when Darkness finds it's ruin,

and the Widow shall smile one last time when she finally knows what she's doing."

Harry knew at once, of course, that he had heard another real prophecy. The question was, as it has always been, what in the world did it mean?

Author's note: What indeed?

A short chapter with a good ending spot. See you next time.

Dad


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter 63 - Detention with Hermione

October 8th, 1997

The Dark Lord stood at the front of the assembly hall with Snape and a half dozen of his most loyal followers nearby. The room had been enlarged through powerful magic to accommodate the over three hundred Death Eaters now in attendance. As more and more filed through the doors, the sound of idle conversations increased slightly. It did not, however, reach anything approaching a normal level. Lord Voldemort was known to just start talking without warning or introduction when he called his men together and never repeated himself. It had the effect of keeping everyone on their toes.

"Listen to me, my Death Eaters," began Lord Voldemort. The silence was instantaneous and absolute. "I have called you here today to announce the beginning of my new ascension to power. Together, now that I have combined the strength of my older, always loyal Death Eaters with my new, young and dedicated new minions, we shall cast off the nuisance of the Ministry and begin a new order with myself as absolute Master." He paused a moment, looking around. A few of the less experienced among them tried a bit of faltering applause but stopped almost immediately when they weren't joined. Voldemort had been working on resisting the urge to kill his own men for that sort of mistake and merely noted their names for some less than fatal punishment.

"Little stands in our way," continued the Dark Lord. "Several aging aurors, some pot-bellied bureaucrats, a few rogue vigilantes and a school boy." He walked silently to the other side of his makeshift stage to see if anyone would, once again, interrupt him. This time there was only silence. Well, almost silence.

"I don't think that's very accurate," said Luna. "There are more of us at Hogwarts who are fighting him than just you, Harry." She looked at Harry while saying this but went back to watching the show as Voldemort continued.

"We shall start with the school boy," said Voldemort. "He is not as powerful as you have been led to believe. Some of your number almost succeeded in destroying him. Some unfortunate intervention prevented that but make no mistake; he is as mortal as you are. He is, however, quite clever. He is able to know when we are near him. I have made plans to use this knowledge to my advantage. Some of you will be used solely to defeat him. The rest of you will be protected from his detection. Rookwood will call the names of the noble warriors I shall use in this campaign. When you hear your name, proceed to the west courtyard. Rookwood will join you shortly and give you your first assignments." He nodded to Rookwood who produced a scroll.

"Bird, Denneky, Diben, Heyhe, Sabranes, Caubus, Velin, Dood, Ringading, Swifty, Larkin, Slate, Squinty," began Rookwood. One by one the Death Eaters called out stood and left the room.

Hermione silently repeated each of the names as they were spoken and tried to associate them with the faces as they turned. Her friends weren't helping in this, however.

"I'm guessing these aren't the elite member of the Death Eaters," said Harry. He watched as Squinty went by. "That one there is definitely a few clowns short of a circus." Luna and Ron both laughed.

"Shush," said Hermione, quickly.

"They can't hear us," said Harry, waving his hand in front of Karl, in whose memory they were now journeying.

"I want to hear them," explained Hermione, quickly. She tried to focus back on the job at hand.

"Burdin, Klintin," continued Rookwood, monotonously.

Luna was watching the men as they stalked by. "I don't seem to have much of a sense of their moods," she told Harry. "I suppose it's good to know that I'm not of much use with just memories."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," said Harry. They had not had that much hope that her abilities would extend beyond the rim of the pensieve but it was worth a shot. Ron had likewise not known if his carpet would be able to cooperate, but, like their clothes, it remained with him.

Hermione walked forwards and took a newly vacated spot that was nearer to the front but, more importantly, farther from her friends.

"I think we were annoying her," he commented.

"Yes," said Luna. "I was able to notice that, at least."

"Ees un," said Ron, noticing as Rookwood put down his parchment and spoke the last name, O'maba, before turning back to his master and bowing.(He's done.)

They watched as O'maba, a burly, redheaded Irishman, left the room. It wasn't long until Voldemort resumed his monolog.

"I have great plans for all of you," he said.

"He's unsure, right now," said Luna, apparently picking up this information despite her earlier problems.

"You shall have power and riches beyond your wildest dreams."

"He knows what he's going to be telling them," said Harry. "From the reaction of our two new prisoners, he was right to be nervous."

"I will provide this to you, in good time."

"But first," said Harry.

"However," said Voldemort as Harry snapped his fingers in disappointment, "I will first ask you to prove your loyalty to me by performing a simple, yet difficult task."

"Simple, yet difficult?" asked Harry, confused. Ron laughed.

"One of our oldest traditions," continued Voldemort, "the Dark Mark, has become useful to our enemies. I have worked long on the problem but there is only one way to remove this liability." He raised his hand and the large fireplace burst into flame.

Even in a memory, you could feel the apprehension building in the group.

"Each of you will come forward," said the Dark Lord, "and place your left arm on this platform." He gestured towards a nearly four and a half foot tall table of sorts. It was made of thick planks and poles. "Macnair will then remove the mark." Macnair stepped forward, pulling his axe from his belt.

"Say what?" said a large Death Eater standing off to the left. Voldemort turned to face him, his red eyes blazing.

"Is there a problem, Festus?" asked Lord Voldemort, pulling out his wand.

"None, Master," replied Festus, praying he would be killed quickly.

Voldemort thought for a moment before saying, "I believe you are being less than truthful, Festus." Festus quivered in his robes. "No matter. I do not make this command lightly. After your arm is removed, show your loyalty by placing it in the fire. I will then replace it. To prove that this must be done, Severus shall be first."

You could almost hear Snape's mind scream out "Say WHAT?" His lips, though, despite being suddenly paler than a moment earlier, did not part. Slowly, he walked over to the table. Pulling his robes back to his shoulder, and not without a little shaking, he placed his arm as ordered.

"Don't watch, Luna," said Harry, touching her on her shoulder. Luna didn't argue but turned to put her head against his chest with her eyes shut. Clutching Harry tightly, she waited.

"Thunk!" Macnair's axe had found its mark and, as advertised, Snape hit the floor, writhing in agony. His pain level seemed to be somewhere between excruciating and unbearable. Grasping at his stump as he flailed about on the floor, Snape emitted a continuous string of bone chilling screeches that were as tortuous to hear as a dozen rappers chanting the collected works of Dr. Seuss.

The Dark Lord walked over to Snape who was valiantly, but unsuccessfully, attempting to subdue his pain. Voldemort held his hand out as he muttered a few words. Hermione caught a few syllables of what she knew were pain reducing charms and Snape became able to control himself. Voldemort then stopped the bleeding. Snape rose, walked over to his former arm, still setting on the table and picked it up. With a look that even Harry could discern was total resignation to his fate, he walked over and placed his arm in the roaring fire. He then returned to his master, leaving footsteps of his own blood on the floor. Kneeling, he raised his left arm and Voldemort conjured a new, silver replacement. After briefly testing it's operation, he bowed and returned to the side of the stage.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," said Harry, bracingly, as if talking to those Death Eaters around him. Luna didn't let go of him and seemed to be quite upset. Ron reached out, trying to console her, as well.

"Very funny," said Hermione, hearing Harry's remark and turning around from her front row view. She saw how distressed Luna was and immediately joined Harry and Ron. "I'm so sorry, Luna," she continued. "We shouldn't have asked you to come."

Behind them, they heard footsteps walking across the blood-splattered floor and turned to look as the next Death Eater approached the table. He looked even less happy about it than Snape.

"We should leave it here, for now," stated Hermione.

"I suppose," agreed Harry. "This didn't help as much as I'd hoped. If we'd like, we can always come back later and pick it up from 'Severus shall be first'."

Luna was stretched out on the couch in their office, her head in Dougal's lap. Normally, of course, their office didn't have a couch but since Luna needed to have a quick lie down, Harry had summoned his from Grimmauld Place.

"You should've called me before taking Luna someplace like that," said Dougal, gently stroking Luna's hair as she calmed herself. "She's, well, just too delicate for that sort of experience."

"We needed to see if she could pick up on anything that Voldemort had to say," explained Harry. "I will admit that, given what we knew would be happening, a few precautions might have been in order. She said you were busy, so we ..."

"I wasn't too busy to help out here and I'm definitely never too busy to watch over Luna," said Dougal, indignantly. His outburst roused Luna from her meditations. She said nothing but looked up at him, beaming.

"As it turned out," said Hermione, "We didn't learn much that was new. Voldemort didn't give many clues on how the Death Eaters who avoided Macnair's axe would be used. All that we picked up was that Harry's ability to detect them was part of the plan."

"They're counting on you knowing they're about to attack you?" asked Dougal, surprised out of his earlier annoyance. "How would that work?"

"Ee own no," said Ron, shrugging. (We don't know.)

"For the time being," said Harry, "it doesn't matter. Something else came up today; maybe more important than that. Normally, neither you nor Luna would be part of this conversation but Luna has recently been told our deepest secret and she was also present during this next bit. There's been another prophecy. Luna might need someone to talk to about it and I think that the fact that you're dating means that you couldn't even consider turning traitor on us without Luna knowing about it five minutes before you did so I guess you're both in the inner circle, now. I'm going to arrange a meeting of the rest of us for this evening to discuss it."

"I thought you needed to brush up on your apparition before tomorrow," said Hermione. "Is this new prophecy time sensitive?" Harry had only told Hermione and Ron that he heard another prophecy but didn't want to go over it without the others.

"I don't know," said Harry. "It didn't make much sense. Let's save it for tonight. We need to discuss the real reason behind the hearing, as well."

"So," asked Hermione, "do you want to have this meeting before or after?"

"Before or after what?" asked Harry, confused.

"Your detention," replied Hermione. She smiled at him, knowing that he had forgotten all about it.

"Bloody hell," said Harry. "I don't know. I have a hand to replace at seven o'clock but that shouldn't take long. Maybe just after I'm done with that."

Hermione thought about that for a bit. "Maybe we need to have two meetings. Have a full meeting at ten after seven to discuss the hearing; then another after your detention, assuming McGonagall only gives you lines or something fairly quick. You should have an hour or so after your last class to review the rules of apparition."

Dougal laughed. At Hermione's inquisitive and Harry's annoyed looks, he explained, "It's just the absurdity of your schedule. Classwork; study for an apparition test; perform a near miracle and change someone's life; discuss a possible upcoming attack on your life; write 'I must not incinerate Zabini.' a hundred times; discuss the new prophecy. It's a bit disjointed, is all."

"Well, some days aren't quite so full," said Harry. "I can't remember any but there must have been a few." Luna laughed at this. She was finally feeling better.

"I'm fine, now, Dougal," she said, sitting up. "I just heard all of that screaming and there was blood everywhere and it was too much for me."

"Of course it was," said Dougal, soothingly. "Just remember; if this sort of thing comes up again, you come and find me first." Luna gave him a kiss and they stood up to leave.

"Let's go, Harry," said Hermione. "I'm starving." Ron also rose on his carpet.

"Just one moment," said Harry. "I'd like to have a quick word with Dougal before lunch." When everyone sat back down, he added, "In private, please." This request surprised everyone for a moment but after just a few fleeting puzzled looks, they rose once more, except for Dougal, of course, and headed out the door.

When they were quite alone, Dougal said, "I think I know what this is about. You'd like to know why I'm assisting with tutoring and grading."

"No," said Harry, "well, yes, actually. I mean no, you don't have to tell me."

"Well, that clears things up," said Dougal, smirking. "Want to start over?"

Harry knew he was blushing but tried to soldier on. "Yes, I'd like to know but it isn't any of my business. I just wanted to talk about Luna for a bit."

"What about her?" asked Dougal, getting a bit miffed. "It's not her fault that she reacted the way she did. You shouldn't have taken her to see something like that in the first place." He rose from his chair as if to defend his girl with his fists, if necessary.

"Calm down," said Harry, surprised. "I'm not blaming her for anything. I actually think you might be right."

Dougal sat back down but remained agitated. "Maybe you should get to the point."

"I guess the point is whether or not you think Luna is up to this," said Harry. "She's been in a fight or two with us and seemed to do okay but that was reacting to verifiably evil people and didn't require a lot of judgement. Now, that's all she's doing. She said in the beginning that she didn't like being judge and jury but she'd help us if she could. I want to know if she's been talking to you about wanting to quit. I mean, I'd understand if she did. I'm just wondering if she's only staying with it out of a sense of loyalty, or something."

Dougal sat quietly for a moment as he compiled his answer. Leaning forward, and in a lower voice, he said, "She's vented a bit about it. Well, maybe 'vented' is too strong a term. It's like you said; she doesn't really like it but it's doing a lot of good so she doesn't mind. I wouldn't cut her loose, just yet."

Harry thought about this. "I'm glad to hear that. She's pretty bloody useful, you know. Still, if we ask her to do something she really hates, be sure to let me know. I really like her and don't want her upset."

"I like her, too," said Dougal. At Harry's arched brow, he amended, "Alright. I love her. Happy?"

"Yes," said Harry, smiling, "for both of you. Of course, I pity you, too."

"Pity me?" asked Dougal. "Why?"

"You'll never be able to get away with anything," said Harry, laughing. "No offense but she reads complete strangers like a book. What sort of a chance do you have?"

Dougal smiled in return. "None, I guess." He sat back, thinking. "She's already figured out why I'm doing the tutoring and all."

Harry had to restrain himself before coming to the realization that Dougal had brought up the subject, this time. "Why are you? I mean, you don't seem the, uh, I mean..."

"I am the type, actually," said Dougal. "I'm doing it for the money. Avarice was, and is, one of my virtues."

"Yes," said Harry, simulating deep understanding, "it's all so clear now. Why I believe the Queen also acquired most of her wealth by grading papers."

"It pays well enough," said Dougal, defensively.

"I'm sure it does," agreed Harry, "but I'm not sure why you need another job. We set up a system for the part timers to get paid. Have you talked to Remus?"

"No," said Dougal, flatly, "and I don't intend to. I worked hard enough for Voldemort without wages. I need to settle the score for that my own way."

Harry was silent for a moment. This was a point of honor for Dougal. "I understand," he said. "I won't bring it up again."

"Thanks," said Dougal and they headed off to lunch.

Later that night.

"There's still a bit of soap on this one." Hermione handed the golden plate back to Harry.

Harry held the plate under a steady stream of warm water, flipping it repeatedly to rinse both sides. Holding it up to the light, he declared it free of soap and placed it back into the draining tray. Normally, he would have some sort of a witticism to offer but after the fifth or sixth time she had rejected his work, he decided to just fix the problem and move on.

Hermione leaned back in her stool and continued to watch her husband work. She had to admit that he was good at the job. Years of practice usually leads to that result.

On the other side of the work counter, a pair of elves waited patiently for each plate, glass and utensil as they became available. Dishtowels in hand, they would remove each item after it had met the high standards set by Hermione, dry it and place it in the proper cupboard or drawer. They were doing this at a much slower pace than they normally would and with less elves.

Hermione didn't think that they should be there at all. This was supposed to be Harry's job, after all. However, he had effectively cut his detention in half by the means of obeying McGonagall's instructions, instead of her intent. She had ordered Harry to wash all of the dishes from supper for his punishment. Hermione, as Head Girl, would have the task of supervising her wayward husband. She took her duties seriously enough to guarantee he would perform the assigned task but was sympathetic enough to agree with his analysis that his punishment, as stated, was to wash the dishes, not dry them.

The final cart of dishes rolled up to his side of the counter and Harry, after consulting his watch, said, "It looks like we'll make it, after all." He then loaded up the sink for what he assumed was the thousandth time.

"I have to admit that I'm impressed," said Hermione. "I'm pretty sure the elves are inwardly laughing at your sluggishness but you managed to get through those dishes in record time."

"It's comforting to know that I have a fall back occupation for when I'm out of the Dark Lord destroying business," said Harry. "Speaking of which; do you have any further thoughts on the plan for tomorrow?"

"The plan?" asked Hermione, mockingly. "You mean the 'Let's see what happens and hope you aren't killed' plan? No. I'm all talked out about that." The majority of the forty-five minute meeting with the level 2 people consisted of suggesting more and more unlikely reasons for the obviously deceptive hearing. The problem was that they had few real facts to base any plans on. Harry had to attend a hearing to discuss the Ministry's discovery of Harry's well publicized apparitions. He assumed that he would, in the end, be required to secure a legal license and perhaps pay a fine of some sort. These special Death Eaters that seemed to be dedicated to his demise might appear at any point during his visit to London but that didn't limit the possibilities very much. In the end, they decided to play it by ear. Harry would have Slider and Jumper, under invisibility cloaks, of course, join him everywhere he went. Sleepy would also join them as the official means of transporting Harry to the Ministry hearing. He would also carry a detector medallion with him with another pair of the Hogwarts Free Elves monitoring it from Grimmauld Place. The rest of their commandos would don their civies and blend in at Diagon Alley. Remus, Shacklebolt and Madeye would be similarly employed. Winky had been specifically ordered to stay at Hogwarts unless Harry called for her to come to him by name. All in all, they were doing their best to be ready for anything but had no idea what that 'anything' might be.

"I don't suppose there's much else to say," agreed Harry. "Perhaps we'll find some clues in the prophecy."

"Yes," said Hermione, "they've been so helpful in the past." She frowned as Harry finished up the last of the dishes.

"They're supposed to be vague," said Harry. "Otherwise, they'd be too useful." He took off his apron and rolled down his sleeves. Picking up his outer robes, he asked, "Ready?"

"Always," said Hermione, using her most sultry voice and batting her eyelashes. She wrapped her arms around him and began what was destined to be a two minute, very passionate kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Harry looked at his watch and said, "We're late. Hold on." Hermione grabbed hold and they left the kitchen with a pop.

"Hello, again," said Harry as he took up his position at the head of the conference table. It was considerably shorter than it had been earlier but still much longer than it's original shape as a two-seater desk from the storage room. McGonagall had transfigured the desk into a more useful size for the earlier meeting with the full staff. Now that it was just the nine of them, they needed much less room but had decided to continue to meet in the area outside their office because it would still have been crowded inside.

"Let me see your hands, Potter," commanded McGonagall, briskly. Harry held up his ultra-clean hands and wiggled his prunish fingers for her inspection. "Very good. Hermione? Did he complete his punishment?"

"Yes, Headmistress," said Hermione. She faked a sweet smile at Harry.

"Let me see your hands as well, please, Mrs. Potter," said McGonagall. She waited, not quite patiently.

"My hands?" asked Hermione, turning slightly pink and irrationally feeling a great desire to put them in her pockets.

"Yes," answered McGonagall, slowly. "Considering the number of times that Harry and Ron have convinced you to engage in less than brilliant activities, it is not unreasonable to suspect that he might have asked for your assistance in his detention."

"Ha!" said Harry. "Help me? She made me redo half of them." He sat back into his chair, arms folded and frowning.

"Yes, I did," agreed Hermione. She held up her hands briefly for inspection while continuing. "Harry's very quick but he isn't quite as thorough as he should be."

"What a lovely thought to consider during breakfast, tomorrow," said Dougal.

"Well, what's the point of having an immune system if you can't eat off a filthy plate, now and again?" asked Tonks.

"That's what I said," said Harry, nodding. "Little Miss Surgically Sterile, here, of course, wasn't having any of it."

"Stop!" said McGonagall, covering her eyes. "I don't want to hear, or know, any more. I should have gone with my first instincts." This last sentence was said softly, almost to herself.

"What was your first thought," asked Harry, curiously.

"I was going to have you come up with one hundred ways that you shouldn't kill Mr. Zabini," said Minerva, a slight smile trying to be set free. "I changed my mind when I thought you might enjoy it, too much." The table erupted with mild laughter.

"I'll save that for a rainy day, Minerva," said Harry. "Tonight, we have something more important to discuss. There's a new prophecy."

"Oh, for the love of..." muttered Minerva. "I'm missing 'The Witching Hour' for this?"

"It was very strange," said Luna. "Professor Trelawney didn't sound normal, at all." McGonagall was about to make a comment, probably less than flattering to her Divination professor but Luna continued. "She wasn't lying or telling the truth. It was as if she was just providing her mouth for someone else's use. I've never heard anything quite like it."

This pronouncement, coming from someone who was definitely seeing things from a unique perspective, gave them all cause for pause.

It was Remus who spoke the obvious. "Let's hear it, then."

"You have to see it, too," said Harry, "to get the full effect. Just a second." He walked into the office and retrieved the pensieve. Setting it on the table, he said, "I went to Professor Trelawney's classroom to ask for Luna's help with the new prisoners. Trelawney was speaking to the both of us."

Harry used his wand to pull a silver strand from his head and placed it in the pensieve. He tapped the rim and the image of Sybil Trelawney appeared over the surface.

"The Widow shall die to learn the truth

of the mystery of Life that's hiding,

The Two shall be one, for a while at least

as her lover's time he is biding.

When the Moon is in the Seventh House

and friends are united in sadness,

The Good Son will take the life that he seeks

from the purest of evil's madness.

The Greater Love shall rule the day

when Darkness finds it's ruin,

and the Widow shall smile one last time

when she finally knows what she's doing."

The image faded back into the bowl. No one spoke for a minute or so. Only the sound of Hermione's quill disturbed the silence. When she finished transcribing the prophecy, Harry said, "Luna. You've had most of the day to think on this. Have you any ideas, yet?"

"The only line that's easy is the one about the Moon," said Luna. "The Seventh House is the part of the western sky from the horizon to about thirty degrees up."

"And that happens pretty much every day," said Remus. "If it said it happened at sunset or noon or something, we could come up with a more specific set of dates."

"Well, at least we don't have that many widows to choose from," said Minerva, "at least in our circle. I'm one. So is Poppy. Other than that, I don't know."

"My mother's a widow," said Dougal, "but I doubt she'd have much to do with the downfall of Voldemort."

"There are several widows in our family flats," said Tonks. "Any of them might play a part since they're personally involved."

"The prophecy was made to Harry and Luna," said Hermione. "I would think that it's most likely that the widow will be someone they know."

"We'll have to see," said Harry. "Now, this 'good son' could be almost anyone." He thought a moment before looking at Dougal. "It might be Dougal, now that he's turned. Or it might be Percy. He's always been a goody two-shoes. Who else has been a good son?"

Dougal looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure that I like the way this is playing out. So far, the first two sections we discussed could relate to my family. I mean, this is my mum, we're talking about," he stated. "The first line says she dies." He began to have a feeling that this prophecy was something he would have rather not heard.

"We're just guessing," said Hermione. "Two parts might line up. They could also mean a hundred other people. We have a long way to go to understand this." She reached over and briefly grasped his hand.

"That's right," said McGonagall. "It's well within the bounds of coincidence, so far. Let's move on to some other sections and see where we are led."

"When are friends sad to be united?" asked Luna, joining in the conversation once more.

"At a funeral," said Dougal, dropping further into his belief that the prophecy concerned both his mother and himself.

"It's not about you," said Remus, comfortingly. "It's possibly about more that one widow. The first line has a widow dying and the last one has one smiling. How could that be the same person?"

Dougal, and no one else for that matter, had an answer to this. "You're probably right," he said. "If you look hard enough, you'll find connections, whether they exist or not."

"Right," said Hermione. "The second line, for instance, 'the mystery of life that's hiding', could mean anything. It might mean a baby in it's mother's womb. If the lines are all related, maybe it's a widow that's expecting."

"The whole first stanza seems to be about this widow," said Remus. "She has a lover, it seems and they'll get married, I guess. That's traditionally how two become one."

"It will only last a while, though," said Minerva. "I wonder why this Widow's love life is so important?"

"I don't know," said Tonks. "Now the good son might be hers. He'll kill someone."

"It sounds like they deserve it," said Harry. "They're pure evil. Nutters, too, I guess."

"The greater love shall rule the day when darkness finds it's ruin could mean Harry's love augmented magic will destroy Voldemort," said Hermione. "I'd bet on that one. Not sure about the rest."

"And after all this," said Dougal, "the widow will smile and catch a clue."

"It doesn't paint her as very bright, does it?" asked Harry. "She only figures it out at the end."

"Tha uls ow Ermiy," said Ron, speaking for the first time. (That rules out Hermione.)

"I'm sort of afraid it might be me," said Honey. "If this all happens after Ron and I are married, well, who knows?" She seemed to be pretty upset at the prospect.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," said Minerva. "At the moment, these are all nothing more than wild speculation."

"That's true," said Harry. "If past prophecies are any indication, they need to have a few pieces of the puzzle happen before you can really take a guess at what the rest means. I just wanted everyone to know the prophecy and keep an eye out for when parts of it happen."

"I think that's about the best we can do, for now," said Remus. "The task at hand remains the Ministry hearing, tomorrow. Harry; we've discussed this at the last meeting but is there anything we've forgotten?"

"I don't know if it matters if we have," said Harry. "Other than wearing a bulletproof vest, I don't know how I could be any safer."

"I'm afraid that we'll find out how wrong we are," said Hermione. "Voldemort must know we'll see right through this ruse."

"Of course he does," said McGonagall. "I'd recommend not attending except that would be showing weakness. With all ten of your commandos along with the Order, Harry should be safe enough."

"Thank you, Minerva," said Harry. "Now, if there isn't anything else, we'll call it a night."

Everyone left for their various destinations via either the Head's suite or the Shrieking Shack. Harry bypassed both and apparated both himself and his wife. To her surprise, she found herself by the beach tree near the lake. The 1sr quarter moon hung low over the lake, providing enough illumination to reveal the autumn hillsides.

"Why are we here?" asked Hermione. She snuggled a bit closer to Harry due to the slight chill in the air.

"I thought it might be nice," replied Harry. He leaned into her, as well.

They walked about in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the night as well as each other's company. Finally, Hermione said, "It might just be a hearing, you know." She sensed that Harry was worried about what might happen during the battle he expected.

Harry laughed. "I don't think anyone thinks that. I'm not that worried, really. You just never know. If this did turn out to be our last night, I wanted it to be a good one."

Hermione walked on with her husband a while more before telling him, "They've all been good nights since the day we married, Harry. I love you more than you could ever know." She stopped and reached up to pull him into a kiss. It turned out to be the opening salvo in what turned out to be a very good night, indeed.


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64 - The Hearing

October 9th, 1997

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter." The receptionist noted on a clipboard the time that Harry had arrived and then entered the private office of Mafalda Hopkirk to inform her of Harry's presence. Harry consulted his watch. It was five minutes to ten. A moment later, the receptionist, a comely lass of perhaps twenty-five summers, had returned to her desk and proceeded to work on the stack of parchments before her. With no one else in the office with them (no one visible, at least), Harry's mind, lulled into a semi-trance by the back and forth movement and slight scratching sound of the goose feather quill, started to wander. He made it this far, at least, without incident. Sleepy had publicly transported him to the lobby of the Ministry and then presumably returned to Hogwarts. In fact, she was one of perhaps a dozen people, wizard or elf, who were scattered around the area in order to discover, and hopefully thwart, an expected attack. The clock had progressed to almost a quarter after ten before Harry was roused by the sudden appearance of the short, sour face of Mafalda Hopkirk appearing before him. "Tired, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

Harry quickly jumped to his feet, suddenly revealing the nearly one foot difference in their heights. Unable to suppress a smile, he answered, "No, ma'am. I was just, ah, waiting." He had to broaden his smile at his lame response.

"This hearing is not to be taken lightly, Mr. Potter," said the unamused Hopkirk. "Now, if you are fully rested, we will begin."

Hopkirk quickly turned and walked back towards her office. Harry followed behind, silently. As he went to close the door behind them, he was suddenly aware of the presence of the receptionist. She had followed them from her desk; quill and parchment in hand. Harry assumed she would be recording the events of the hearing. A further surprise awaited him as he sat down. From out of the corner of the room, a tall, lanky man of sixty or seventy years approached. He took a seat next to Hopkirk and seemed to be every bit as unamused as she was.

"This hearing on the matter of unlicensed apparition by Harry James Potter; a.k.a The Boy who Lived; a.k.a. The Chosen One; a.k.a. The Dragon Wizard, has begun on the 9th day of October in the year of our Lord, 1997." Mafalda Hopkirk was cutting no corners. "Have you any other alias' to declare, Mr. Potter?"

"My wife calls me Thor, sometimes," said Harry, not yet grasping that his inquisitors had no funny bone.

"Why is that, Mr. Potter?" asked Hopkirk, without reflection.

"Well," said Harry, "I tend to snore, I guess." The blonde receptionist giggled, interrupting her transcription.

"Miss Deebee," intoned Hopkirk, humorlessly, "you will conduct yourself appropriately or you will be replaced." Immediately, the young witch toned down to the point of a funeral dirge.

"That's better," said Hopkirk, returning her disapproving gaze to Harry. "Now if you've finished with your flippant remarks, perhaps we could begin."

Harry wondered if he had inadvertently managed to incinerate her owl at some point. Keeping this thought to himself, he said, "Sorry. Yes, I'm ready."

"Very well," said Hopkirk, looking down at her stack of reports. "We'll begin by determining if our records are in error. Do you have a valid apparition license, Mr. Potter?"

"Ah, no. I don't."

"Have you ever had a valid apparition license that was suspended or revoked?"

"No."

"Were you aware that you were required to obtain an apparition license before apparating outside of established, Ministry condoned, instruction sessions?"

"Yes."

"Yet you willingly decided to ignore this statute."

"The first time was an emergency. You see..."

"I have not yet asked about the circumstances surrounding any of your apparitions."

"Sorry."

"Let the record show that the miscreant, Harry James Potter has admitted full knowledge of the law regarding his obligation to obtain an apparition license."

"I just forgot."

"Is that your defense? Do you wish to formally request a full criminal trial on this charge?"

"No. I admit that I don't have a license."

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Let us proceed to the individual instances when you have flouted the law. When was the first occurrence?"

"It was the night that Gram, I mean, Professor Dumbledore died. He was very sick so I side-along apparated us back to Hogsmeade."

"You side-along apparated Professor Dumbledore without even having a license to apparate yourself?" This question came from the elderly wizard who had remained silent, and visibly uninterested up until this point.

"Yes, sir."

"You decided, despite having no training in the special techniques required to safely transport a passenger, to endanger the life of one of our most distinguished citizens by engaging in this reckless action?"

"He was dying! I had to ..."

"Have you completed your Healer residency, Mr. Potter." Hopkirk had resumed her questioning.

"What? No, I..."

"No? Exactly how much training have you had in the healing arts, then?"

"None. I ..."

"Yet you are able to make such a serious diagnosis? Perhaps Professor Dumbledore wasn't as ill as you presumed. Perhaps his greatest danger lay in the inexperienced and unregulated attempts of you to 'save' him."

"He could hardly stand. If we hadn't apparated back, he..."

"He could 'hardly' stand? I would assume that if he could stand, he had not yet collapsed." The wizard had rejoined the tag-team questioning.

"I was holding him up."

"Why? If he wasn't feeling well, in your opinion, why didn't you allow him to rest a bit?"

"He had drunk quite a bit of some sort of a poison. We needed to get back to ..."

"Poison? Why on Earth would Professor Dumbledore do something so foolish?" Mafalda Hopkirk sat back in her chair, waiting for some sort of an explanation.

"I, I'm afraid I, ah, can't tell you anything about that," replied Harry. He had already said much more than he should, in his opinion. He decided that short answers, preferably 'yes' or 'no' would be his response going forward.

"You can't tell us, or you won't?" This question came from the man who seemed to be much more interested in the hearing than before.

"Both," said Harry, deciding to be less forthcoming with potentially compromising information that he had been.

"Mr. Potter," began Hopkirk, icily, "I would recommend full cooperation on your part. This is a very serious matter."

"I understand that, ma'am," replied Harry. "I will answer any questions you have about apparition but my business, as far as it concerns Professor Dumbledore, is private." He waited to see how this would be received.

Mafalda Hopkirk wasn't happy. She was, however, aware of Harry's rights, as much as she personally couldn't care less about them. "Very well, Mr. Potter. So far, we have your admission of guilt to one count of apparition without a license and one count of side-along apparition without a license. Are there other incidents?"

'At least a thousand', thought Harry. Out loud, he said, "I believe so, ma'am."

"Could you list them for us?" She waited somewhat patiently for him to begin.

"I don't think so," said Harry. At her look he quickly added, "Not to be difficult, ma'am. I'm just not sure of the dates and times."

"I see," said Hopkirk. She examined her notes. "There is an accusation of another incident during last Summer. You brought some witches to St. Mungo's. Is that correct?"

"Yes," said Harry, biting his tongue to prevent another righteous outcry.

"Four, in all, I see," she continued. "So that would be four side-along apparitions and three returns to pick up the next witch?" She started to write this information down.

"No," said Harry. "I brought them all at once."

"You apparated with four passengers?" asked the wizard. "Impossible. Make a note for a possible perjury charge against the accused." He directed the last comment to Miss Deebee.

"What?" asked Harry. "Of course it isn't impossible. I do it all the, ah, well..."

"All the time?" completed Hopkirk, a smile forming on her tightly pressed lips.

"No," said Harry. Back to minimal responses.

Hopkirk remained silent.

"Perhaps I mis-spoke," choked out Harry. "I meant that I did it quickly."

"I see," said Hopkirk. "So, that brings the totals to four apparitions and five side-along apparitions."

"Yes," said Harry.

"Very good," said Hopkirk. "Now, you were observed appearing alone, in Diagon Alley, on two occasions. Witnesses stated that you appeared with a standard apparition pop and ..."

Two hours later...

"Let's see," said Hopkirk, counting slashes on her parchment. It took a while. "We are currently at fifty-seven counts of apparition without a license and forty-three counts of side-along apparition." She consulted her watch and set down her quill. "I see it's just after twelve o'clock. Why don't we resume this hearing at one o'clock?"

"Could we just make it an even hundred on each count?" asked Harry. He was physically and emotionally drained.

"Certainly," said Hopkirk. "If you'd just be so kind as to give us the dates and times of those other violations, I'm sure things will move along quite quickly." She rose as Harry's head hit the table. "Now, let's break for lunch, unless you have any other questions."

'Do you prefer regular or extra-crispy,' thought Harry, evilly. "No, ma'am," he said, out loud. Hopkirk lead her group out the door. Harry wearily followed.

Once in the hallway, and more importantly, alone, he said, "Slider."

"What can Slider be doing for Harry Potter," asked the elf from under the invisibility cloak.

"Is Rufus alone?", asked Harry.

"No, Harry Potter," answered Slider.

"Who's with him?" asked Harry before realizing how nosy he was being.

"Miss Greta is being with the Minister, Harry Potter," answered Slider.

"Greta?" asked Harry. "She's fine. Could you ask the Minister if I could see him, please?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider and he popped away.

Harry didn't like the idea of trying to get some help from the Minister but desperate times called for desperate actions. He had carved 'I must not tell lies' repeatedly into the back of his hand. He had endured occlumancy lessons from Snape. He had simulated listening intently to Hermione as she babbled on about SPEW, but he had his limits.

A couple of minutes later and Slider returned. "The Minister of Magic is saying he is being able to be seeing Harry Potter," said Slider.

"Wonderful," said Harry. He held out his hand. "Take me to him, please." Slider took Harry's hand and the two of them, with Jumper following, popped off.

"Hi, Harry!" exclaimed Greta as she jumped off the park bench she had been sharing with her grandfather. She jumped up at the last second into his waiting arms to give him a hug.

"Hello, Greta," said Harry, momentarily forgetting his troubles. He spun around once, as required by established convention before setting her back down on the ground. He recognized the location at once. They were in a park across the street from Greta's school.

"Hello, Harry," said Rufus. He had a light lunch for two laid out on the bench and was currently working on an apple. "What brings you by, today?"

"Ministry business," said Harry. At Rufus' blank look, he added, "Specifically, I need to know how to deal with the bureaucracy."

"I'm not a young man, Harry," said Rufus, laughing. "Perhaps we can concentrate on a specific problem you're having. What's up?" He perused the remaining food while waiting for Harry's answer. Greta flopped down in her former spot and joined him, listening to their conversation while working on her animal crackers.

"Well," began Harry, "it seems that I neglected to obtain an apparition license."

"Apparition licenses are on the third level," said Scrimgeour.

"I would like nothing more than to take a test and get my license," replied Harry. "Unfortunately, I just spent the last two hours at a hearing to discuss my crimes with Mafalda Hopkirk and her evil minion."

"A hearing?" asked Scrimgeour. "A brief meeting to discuss your lack of awareness of the rules, perhaps, but a full blown hearing? Sounds dodgy to me. Who's her minion, as you put it?"

"No idea," said Harry. "We weren't introduced. He's about your age; maybe a bit older. Tall and thin. Never smiles."

"What's his hair status and color?" asked Rufus, reverting to his auror interrogation techniques to extract information out of Harry.

"Gray," said Harry. "It's thinning, I guess but no real bald spots."

"Facial hair or scars?" asked Scrimgeour, continuing.

"Neither that I saw," answered Harry.

"Did he have black, metal eyeglasses?" asked Rufus, finally thinking of someone probable.

"Yes," said Harry. "Do you know him?"

"It must be Bert Aubrey," said the Minister. "He's one of the leaders of the 'loyal opposition'. Probably hoping to pick up something to use politically."

Harry sighed. "I wonder if, years ago, Voldemort wasn't forced to deal with the Ministry and he decided it would be easier to overthrow the government than work with it." Both Harry and Rufus laughed.

"Could be, Harry," said Rufus. "Now, as to your current problem; I think I can help without getting personally involved. If this is a hearing, you're entitled to counsel. If you are able to locate him, I know the perfect man. Not only does he know the way to handle bureaucrats, he actually enjoys it."

As one o'clock approached, Harry returned to the office of Mafalda Hopkirk with his recommended representative following behind.

"Good afternoon Mr. Potter," said Hopkirk. "Please have a seat and we'll resume our...Oh, my." Mafalda Hopkirk noticed the new attendee as he entered the room.

"Afternoon, Mafalda," said Mad-eye with an evil sing-song voice that made you want to hide the children. Then, in a much less flirty voice, he added, "You, too, Aubrey." He didn't clunk anymore when he walked but he still had a certain presence about him. That 'Je nais sais quoi' that set him apart from other psychopathic lunatics you wouldn't want to cross.

"Moody," said Aubrey, in surprise, not greeting. "What are you doing here?" He didn't seem pleased to see his old acquaintance.

"I could be asking you the same question, Aubrey," replied Moody. "As for myself, I'm here to help Potter with your questions. At least that was the plan. Now that I'm here, though, maybe Mafalda and I can pick up were we left off." He looked appreciatively at Hopkirk once more before summoning a chair from the outer office and sitting down.

"I believe the restraining order is still in effect, Mad-eye," said Hopkirk, threateningly. "Perhaps you'd better leave before I have to call the aurors."

"Expired last March," replied Moody. "I wouldn't mind being deserving of another one." He winked cheekily at her. "Unless, of course, you've lowered your standards as far as the codger, here. I doubt he'd make you as happy as I did, though."

Hopkirk and Aubrey seemed to be speechless for the time being. Harry was trying desperately to contain his mirth at their reaction. Before long, however, Mad-eye redirected his gaze to the last remaining occupant of the room; Miss Deebee. She had been in a state of shock since the moment she caught sight of Mad-eye's jigsaw puzzle face. His spinning eye slowed down until it was facing only her, scanning up and down her not unpleasant figure.

"Don't mind me," he said to the shaking lass. "I'm just checking for hidden weapons and the like." His magic eye stopped for a moment before he added, "Interesting birthmark."

Miss Deebee immediately cupped her hands over her chest, in embarrassment. "Moody!" said Hopkirk, sharply. Mad-eye turned his natural eye towards her but kept the magical one on Deebee.

"Don't be jealous, Mafalda," said Moody, grinning horribly. "You know there's no one who'd hold a candle to you in my eye." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his flask. A quick swig later and he was good to go.

Hopkirk sputtered for a few moments before regaining control of herself. Finally, she said, "Let's just get this over with. Now, Mr. Potter. I believe you had mentioned that you had a few other apparitions you'd like to tell us about."

"Harry just up and told you about some apparitions he had done without a license?" asked Moody, affecting an incredulous tone.

"Yes, Moody," answered Hopkirk, impatiently. "We spent a good deal of the morning going over many such occurrences."

"Who was his counsel during the morning session?" asked Moody.

"He didn't require a representative this morning," answered Aubrey. "These are simple misdemeanor charges. We were handling it quite well."

"I'm sure you were," said Mad-eye, turning one eye on each of them. "Unfortunately, that all goes out the window, doesn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" demanded Hopkirk.

"Did you inform Harry that he had the right to have a solicitor or other adviser present during questioning?" asked Mad-eye.

"We most certainly did," stated Hopkirk.

Harry didn't remember any such comment and said so.

"Mr. Potter," said Hopkirk, with an obviously fake patience in her voice, "I am positive, and I'm sure Mr. Aubrey will back me up on this, that I informed you of all of your rights before any questions were asked."

Before Harry could protest again, Mad-eye said, "I believe the official transcripts would prove this, one way or the other." Before anyone could protest, he reached over and pulled the upside-down parchment from the bottom of the stack that had been created this morning. It was, of course the first page of the records.

Mad-eye read quickly before stating, "Well, from what I can read in the official record that this nice young lady has been keeping, you did not inform Harry that he had the right to have a solicitor or other adviser present. This violates procedural rule #14-3A, of the judicial regulations. I'm afraid that any confessions or other information that Harry gave are completely inadmissable and invalid."

"Very well, Moody," said Hopkirk, smiling thinly. "We'll start from the beginning. I believe we've determined that the first occurrence of unauthorized, and underage, if I'm not mistaken, apparition occurred in June. Now that your representative is at your side, do you admit to not only apparating without a license but actually side-along apparating?"

"Say nothing, Harry," said Mad-eye. "I believe that you'll need to produce a witness to this event, Mafalda. Are you able to do so?"

"We have a signed affidavit, Mad-eye," said Hopkirk, leafing through her pile of notes and presenting him with the relevant document.

Mad-eye read a bit of the affidavit and snorted in laughter. "Madam Rosmerta?" he asked. "Surely you're aware that it's a matter of record that she was under the Imperius Curse at the time of the alleged apparition. Her testimony isn't admissible."

"Potter has already admitted to the act," said Aubrey, impatiently.

"Was that during the illegal interrogation from this morning?" asked Moody. "We'll have to check with a solicitor but that might be actionable, as they say."

"No matter, no matter," said Hopkirk to Aubrey. "We have plenty of other examples. He side-along apparated his wife and three other witches to St. Mungo's. This is a matter of public record."

"I know," said Mad-eye. "I was one of the first responders. So what's the problem?"

"The problem was he didn't have an apparition license," said Aubrey, losing his temper a bit.

"Didn't need one," said Mad-eye, dismissively. "The Emergency Acts of Magic Act," he leaned over to Mafalda and added, "always thought that was a funny name for an act. Anyway, the Emergency Acts of Magic Act, paragraph five, section 2 states quite clearly that in a life-threatening situation, any reasonable use of magic by anyone, regardless, and this is the important point, regardless of the level of proficiency of the witch or wizard making the attempt is not to be subject to criminal or ci vil charges providing the effort was made in good faith. He removed those witches in the most expedient manner available; apparition. No crime there."

"Fine," said Hopkirk. "I have dozens of more accusations. None of these involved dangerous situations and are therefore subject to Ministry scrutiny."

"Dozens?" asked Mad-eye. "You have dozens of eye-witnesses, you say? Well, that's a bit different. I think I'd better change sides." He jumped up and walked around to the other side of the table, his chair magically following. Sitting down very close to Hopkirk, he said, "I hate to lose." Turning back to Harry, he said, "All right, Potter. You'd better confess to...oh, bloody hell. You'll need a new representative, now." He looked at Aubrey and said, "Why don't you do that, Bert? Mafalda won't be needing you anymore, anyway." He put his arm around Hopkirk who promply screamed.

"Enough!" she cried. "Potter! Go get a license. Mad-eye! Get the hell out of my office." She jumped to her feet and stormed over to the door, yanking it open hard enough to rattle the enchanted windows.

Harry made no complaints and headed for the door. Mad-eye walked slowly past Hopkirk with a hurt look on his face. He stopped just outside the door and asked, "Don't I at least get a kiss goodbye?" He puckered up in anticipation.

SLAM!

"I guess not," said Mad-eye, grinning at Harry, who nearly split his face open with his own smile. "Let's get your license, lad."

It took exactly thirteen seconds for Wilkie Twycross to hand Harry his apparation license, good for both regular and side-along. At Harry's confused look, Twycross showed him a note from the Minister.

Wilkie,

Harry's had a bad enough day. Give him a full apparation license. I'll vouch for his ability.

R.S.

Harry thanked him and he and Mad-eye headed out to Diagon Alley. As they walked, Mad-eye filled Harry in on the fact that nothing unusual was happening. No Death Eaters, either marked or silver-handed had been spotted. No larger than normal congregations of people were evident. It was a perfectly normal day. That fact naturally had Mad-eye worried. It also had Harry worried. Actually, he was twice as worried since he was thinking along the lines as Mad-eye and that in itself worried him.

They parted company, at least publicly, so that Harry could play the target, again. He decided to stroll down to the Leaky Cauldron and use the public floo to return to Minerva's office. This would allow the greatest opportunity for attack. This was the part of the plan that his wife liked the least. He couldn't say he disagreed.

He started by stopping in at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They did, as usual, have some items to show him but he arranged to return shortly after they closed so as not to bring too much attention to their close business relationship.

The next stop was at Jim and Ruby Sarus' jewelry shop. Hermione had told Harry several times that she wasn't that into jewelry but Harry liked to spoil her, anyway. He also liked the old couple and wanted to give them as much business as he could. He picked out a pair of silver and platinum earrings and continued down the alley.

It didn't look like there was going to be any sort of an attack. It was a weekday, after all, and the usual fans and autograph seekers were not expecting him. Half of the window shoppers were part of the Order or elves in disguise. He had just decided that there wasn't going to be an attack when one came from the least expected direction.

He had just finished shrugging at his guards when he noticed what at first appeared to be an old witch coming out of a side shop selling groceries. She was heading towards the Leaky Cauldron, as was he, probably for the same purpose; to use the public floo to return home. She was hunched over and clutching at a bag of apples. She shuffled along slowly, more out of weariness than pain, it seemed.. The odd thing was, she wasn't old. Her clothes, although disheveled, were fairly new and stylish. They were definitely made for a much younger witch. The gaunt, chalky face and thin skin on her wrists and hands, though, indicated a used up life.

Harry walked up to offer assistance. "Here," he said, kindly; "let me help you with those." He indicated the apples.

The old witch looked up with hollow, dead eyes. At first there was no recognition on either side but that would be fleeting. Shock came over Harry's face as he recognized her. The only expression that could describe her, though, would be fury.

"Potter!" she shrieked. Flinging the apples to one side, she reached a not-so-aged hand into her robes to draw her wand.

Harry instinctively pulled his own, but resisted its use, for now. Sensing that Slider and Jumper were about to attack, he said, "Don't hurt her. I'll handle it." Before he could do much else, though, he had to place a shield spell on himself before a blue flame struck. It was a surprisingly formidable strike, coming as it did from someone so seemingly frail. Harry quickly hit her with an Expelliarmus, thus ending the fight. Or so he thought.

"Murderer!" she cried, and struck out with her fists. It didn't hurt, of course. She hadn't the strength to physically hurt a young man like Harry when at full vigor. In her present condition, he could just barely feel her blows. Her voice, though, remained full and loud.

"Killer!" she cried, tears flowing freely in her anger. "Murderer! You've killed them all! Draco! Lucius! Bella! Why not finish the job? Here I am!" Her remaining energy spent, she collapsed to the ground, weeping pitifully. "Oh, Draco. Lucius. I'm coming. The brat will end our whole family." She panted for air, totally exhausted.

A crowd was starting to gather now. Harry wasn't really sure what to do. Fortunately, Tonks was with Remus and they both broke their cover to come help.

"Step to the side, please, sir," said Tonks. She gently moved Harry out of the way. "She needs some air." By this time Shacklebolt had joined them and he also used his auror status to take charge of the situation.

"What's happened here, Sergeant," he asked Tonks. He had, of course, seen the whole exchange as well as Tonks, but neither of them wanted that to be public knowledge.

"He's a killer," rasped out Narcissa Malfoy. "He's killed my, my son and my husband and, and my sister." She was still sobbing but said no more.

"It's Narcissa Malfoy," said Shacklebolt, recognizing her at last. He, too, was shocked at her appearance. The name spread in whispers throughout the crowd.

"We'd better take her in for questioning," said Tonks, apparently to Shacklebolt but directing her gaze at Harry.

Shacklebolt glanced quickly at Harry, as well. Harry gave an almost imperceptible nod. "You'd better follow along," said Shacklebolt. "We'll need your statement." He and Tonks helped Narcissa to her feet and led her the short distance to the Leaky Caldron. Harry followed behind, carrying her bag of apples.

Draco Malfoy sat in a comfortable chair near the bed that supported his mother. Dougal had taken the afternoon off. At Harry and Hermione's suggestion, he had washed out the red dye from his hair and removed his fake glasses. His voice, of course, remained slightly off but that couldn't be helped. Luna sat with him, holding his hand. Narcissa Malfoy had to be sedated upon her arrival at the Fortress of Solitude. Madam Pomfrey had given her a potion to both allow her dreamless sleep and help to restore some of her body's depleted nutrients. An assortment of fruits waited in a bowl on her table along with pitchers of both mead and pumpkin juice. Standing nearby was an elf that had been assigned to both guard her and see to any of her needs.

It was currently five o'clock; one hour past the time that Madam Pomfrey had suggested as the end of Narcissa's nap. Draco had spent that whole hour trying to decided what to say to his mother.

"Keep it simple," suggested Luna. "For now, just tell her you love her and have missed her." That had been a half hour ago. So much had happened since the last time they met that such simple sentiments seemed inadequate.

Narcissa rolled over and discovered the edge of the smallish mattress. She didn't fall, but the lack of support did rouse her, along with Draco, who stood to prevent her fall. She opened her sleepy eyes and beheld the face of her long dead son.

"Draco," she said, her face filling with an unaccustomed glow of happiness. "Draco, my Draco." She quickly rose and threw her arms around her son. She held on tightly and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks but her smile remained undimmed.

Haltingly, Draco held her, as well. This sort of an activity was fairly uncommon in the Malfoy household. Actually, it was unknown. A lot had happened in the past few months, though. Draco had been getting some experience in hugging a woman for over a month, now. True, it wasn't the same with your mother but the practice helped.

Narcissa, on the other hand, had a major part of her world back. She didn't know, as of yet, if they were together in life or death. The important part to her was that she was holding Draco.

After about two minutes, Draco was starting to feel uncomfortable. He tried to coax his mother into sitting back down on her bed but she wasn't having any of it. The pain she had endured for the past two and a half months was still being washed out of her. Finally, after a further five minutes, Draco said, "It's good to see you, Mother." He had always called her 'Mother'.

The voice, with it's strangeness, caused Narcissa to finally let go and take a good look at Draco. She was trying to determine if this was some sort of a cruel trick. "Draco?" she asked, finally, although her voice was hoarse from crying. "You are Draco, aren't you?"

Draco smiled and said, "Of course I am, Mother. I probably sound a bit funny. I'm in hiding, you see, and they had to change my voice a little. I normally wear glasses and have red hair, as well."

"You're hiding?" asked Narcissa, confused. "Why would you need to hide? The Dark Lord would have protected you from Potter."

This was definitely going to be the hard part. Draco realized that his mother didn't know that he had turned traitor to Voldemort. He was trying to decide how to broach the subject when Luna stepped forward.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy," she began. "I'm Luna Lovegood; Draco's girlfriend. It's so nice to meet you, at last." She reached out her hand in token of greeting.

"Pleased," said Narcissa in surprise, giving her usual greeting but withholding her usual attitude. "Draco's girlfriend?" She grasped Luna's hand briefly.

"Yes," said Draco, pleased to have an alternate subject at hand. "We've been together almost since school began."

"School?" asked Narcissa, more confused than ever. "Do you mean Hogwarts?"

"Of course," replied Luna, laughing. "Where else?"

"I... I don't know," replied Narcissa. She finally sat down on her bed. "How could you be attending Hogwarts? After everything that's happened, surely..." She didn't know how to continue.

"We'll talk about that later, Mother," said Draco. He returned to his seat, facing her. "For now, just know that we're both safe and together, again."

Narcissa smiled at this and sighed once more in that realization. She leaned back against a pillow propped against the wall and finally gave her room, for it did not resemble the cell it had been just a few hours earlier, a good look.

"Where are we?" she asked. It was a simple, logical question.

Once again, Draco was trying to decide how to answer. "This is, ah, a safe place. I'm not sure how much to say since we don't know if you'll be staying here for long."

"You'd send me away?" asked Narcissa, both shocked and worried. "How could you even consider such a thing?"

"That's not how I meant it, Mother," replied Draco, quickly. "I mean that this room isn't all that big compared to home. You might decide to return to the manor."

Narcissa's eyes fell. "I... I don't want to go back there. Not yet, at least."

"Why not?" asked Draco. Their large house was the luxurious centerpiece to an estate that covered several acres of plush, very private forest and gardens.

"It's been like a prison, for me," answered Narcissa. "When you went missing, I didn't know what to think. Some of our friends came over looking for you. They did this several times. They told me to contact them as soon as I knew anything. Later, when Lucius returned, he told me that they thought you were somehow captured by Potter. We didn't know if you were dead or alive. When a few weeks went by and I still hadn't heard from you, I started to fear the worst. And then... then, on that awful day; Lucius was..." She trailed off, but before Draco could say or do anything, the anger overtook Narcissa, again. "It was Potter," she spat. "He killed your father. That was dreadful; both of my men taken like that. I just stayed in my rooms. I didn't want to see anyone or have anyone see me. I sent the elves away. I just wanted to die. I wanted to be with my family. I missed you terribly." She started to cry, again.

"I missed you, too, Mother," said Draco, coming over and sitting with his arm around her. "That's all over, now."

"But it wasn't," said Narcissa, again becoming agitated. "I thought that it couldn't get any worse, too. But then, about a month later, that half-blood abomination goes and kills Bella. Yes! I don't know if you knew heard but your Aunt Bella was murdered by Potter, as well. It's as if he wants to kill my whole family." She was getting pretty wild-eyed now and Draco didn't think any of the further information that he could provide would help calm her.

"That's all over," repeated Draco. "Harry won't kill either of us. We're safe."

"He can't find us here?" asked Narcissa, looking around. "Is that why there aren't any windows? I really don't like not having a window but if it keeps us safe from him..." She looked to Draco as a child looks to their parent for explanations.

Suddenly and instinctively, Draco realized that his mother was currently no longer capable of fully rational thought. The shocks and losses of the past few months were too much. "I think I can arrange for you to have some windows, Mother," said Draco, smiling reassuringly. "Perhaps something might be set up by tomorrow. For now, just try to relax."

"I'll try," said Narcissa. She noticed the fruit and drink on the table and said, "I'm hungry. Could you hand me an apple?"

Draco began to stand but Sleepy beat him to the punch. She handed Narcissa an apple on a plate. A paring knife and salt shaker were added.

"Is miss wanting Sleepy to be peeling her apple?" asked Sleepy. Narcissa nodded her head and waved at the fruit, dismissively.

"I bought some apples, today," said Narcissa. "I was so hungry. I sent our elves away weeks ago, you see. I went to Diagon Alley and bought a few apples. Are these them?" She pointed at the apples in the bowl. She didn't mention, or seem to even remember how that trip had ended.

"I'm not sure," said Draco. "An apple's an apple, I suppose." He smiled and Narcissa laughed.

"I suppose it is," she said. Sleepy set the peeled, cored and quartered apple back in front of Narcissa. Sleepy then decided that mead didn't go with apples and poured a glass of pumpkin juice for her ward before resuming her position off to the side.

Narcissa sprinkled a little salt on a piece of her apple and took a bite before renoticing Luna. "You seem to be a bit on the quiet side, ah, I'm afraid I've forgotten your name."

"Luna Lovegood," said Luna. "I just didn't want to interrupt your reunion. I'm so happy for the two of you."

"This is a happy day," said Narcissa, smiling. She took another bite and asked, "How did the two of you meet?"

The next hour or so was spent in a very happy conversation that introduced the slightly off-balance Narcissa to the inner workings of the unusual girl that her son had found. Luna was definitely an acquired taste but anyone who had made the effort found her worthwhile to know.

Meanwhile, in a meeting room withing Lord Voldemort's current headquarters...

"At least two aurors were on top of Potter and Mrs. Malfoy within a few seconds," said Preston. "We checked our memories later and they were following him all the way down the Diagon Alley, from a distance."

"As we expected," said Snape, nodding. "Did they notice any of our men?"

"Not that we could detect," answered Preston. "They were told to make no move or brink attention to themselves unless approached. The large black auror walked directly in front of two of them and gave no indication of recognition."

"That's good," said Snape. "The Dark Lord had said that they wouldn't be able to detect us without the Dark Mark. As long as we conceal our silver hands when in public, we should blend in perfectly."

"When will the next exercise take place?" asked Preston.

"Next week," said Snape. "Our Master hasn't decided whether or not to move up to the next level, yet. I'll discuss your report with him and then he'll make his plans."

"Why wait?" asked Preston. "We know that surprise would be on our side. Let's just get on with it."

Snape looked at his subordinate coldly. "There are other parts to the campaign than just trying to attack Potter. You should try to have a bit more faith in your Master's plans."

Preston went pale. "My pardon, sir," he said. "I meant no disrespect. I was unaware of the complexity of the plan and spoke foolishly."

"Very well," said Snape. "I'd like you and your men to review your memories again and try to determine as many of Potter's guards as possible by next Monday. I'll give you the exact date of the next trip when it is determined by the Dark Lord."

"Yes, sir," said Preston. He turned and left the room.

Snape sat for a while longer, alone in the room. He was trying to lay out his briefing for the Dark Lord in his mind. He was also analyzing the effectiveness of this new tactic. It had been successful to the point of distracting Potter and a large portion of his forces for half a day. The unexpected capture of Lucius' wife probably consumed the other half. In the end, as with many of the Dark Lord's plans, although they seemed a bit unconventional, at times; it was hard to argue with success.


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter 65 - Pursuit of the Graf Spee

October 9th, 1997

"Evening, Potters," said George in a jaunty voice. "Just a sec and we'll be done with this." He continued to focus on the pile of coins on his desk. "Twenty; forty; sixty;..." He slid a stack of galleons from one side to the other with each increment. Business was good, it seemed. "Two-hundred and eighteen." he said finally, writing the number down.

"One-eighty-four," said Fred from his desk. He also had been counting the final amount in their registers at the end of the day.

"Fine," said George, "That's, let's see... four-hundred and two galleons, seven-hundred and twenty sickles and five-hundred and forty -three knuts." He wrote this total down in a large binder he kept in the bottom drawer. Both he and Fred worked to put the small fortune in a bag marked 'Gringotts'. When it was full, Fred rang a small bell setting on the back of his desk. Within ten seconds, a goblin appeared. He waved a small device over the bag; compared his number with the one George showed him and then took the bag and left.

"We spent about a week, once, trying to decide how to protect our well-earned riches," explained Fred.

"Unfortuneately, most of them involved major damage to the premises in the process," continued George.

"That seemed a bit counterproductive," said Fred.

"So when we found out that Gingrotts offers a pickup and delivery service for a galleon a day," said George.

"We signed on," finished Fred.

"Fascinating," said Hermione. "Now that we have that out of the way, perhaps we could get on with the business at hand. I have a Runes test tomorrow."

"Suits us," said George.

"We've been hard at it since seven, ourselves," continued Fred. Fred opened up his top drawer and pulled out a short, proportionally thick, tube. It had a '10' on the side. "Let me have your wand for a moment, Harry."

Harry looked a bit confused but complied. Fred slipped the tube over the tip of Harry's wand until it fit snugly and handed it back.

"Alright, Harry," said George, "Reducto the door." He pointed at their heavy wooden office door.

"You want me to destroy your door?" asked Harry.

"Don't worry," said Fred.

"You won't," added George.

Shrugging, Harry cast a Reducto spell at their door and blew it off it's hinges.

After two seconds of silence, Fred said, "Ah, I think I see the problem. Hermione? Hand me your wand, please." He then took the tube off of Harry's wand and placed it on Hermione's while George Reparoed their door.

"Alright, Hermione," said George as if Harry's try had not occurred, "Reducto the door."

Hermione cast the spell verbally with the exact wand movement needed, neither circumstances in common with Harry's spell, and the door shook as if kicked from a strong foot but did not receive further damage.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Fred. "That's much better."

Hermione examined the tube a bit more closely and asked, "I take it that this is some sort of an attenuator?"

"That's correct," said George. "If placed on the tip of a competent witch or wizard's wand," he emphasized the word 'competent', "it will reduce the intensity by a factor of ten."

"We were trying to increase the power, of course," said Fred.

"But it seems that old Ollivander, oddly enough, knew his business. His wands, at least, are already as powerful as they're ever going to get," said George.

"Then we remembered that you mentioned you have some commandos," said Fred, "so we made these little beauties better by making them worse."

"They alter the Olben Absorption Modulation Constant of the wand so that it becomes out of phase," explained George.

"We thought that one-tenth power would be adequate but apparently stand corrected," continued Fred."For most witches and wizards, however," said George.

"It makes any spells except the Unforgivables safe to practice during live duels," said Fred.

"That might make it safer to pit team against team in training," said Harry. "Professor Coldiron is handling that for the human volunteers. I'll give him a few of these to try out."

"Way ahead of you, Harry," said George, tossing Harry a box of the tubes. "Just make sure they're on tight. You don't want one falling off during a duel and have someone accidentally obliterated."

"Do they come in different powers?" asked Hermione. "I think Harry's just proved that different wizards have different abilities"

"Not currently," said Fred. "It shouldn't be a problem, though. Should we make one for Harry?"

"Sure," said Hermione. "Put him at about one-hundredth power."

"I think a few at fifteen and twenty times less would be enough for almost everyone we have in the program," added Harry.

"Ten each?" asked George, pulling out a quill and parchment to make a note.

"That should be fine," said Harry. "I don't suppose you'll let me pay for them, will you?"

"You see, George," said Fred, "he can be trained."

"Took long enough," replied George.

"It takes a while," agreed Hermione, "but it's possible. There is something else that we'd like for you to take care of for us. It will probably be a bit expensive so don't give me any trouble about taking some galleons."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Fred.

"What do you need?" asked George.

"Goggles and a scarf," said Hermione.

"Why would they be expensive?" asked George.

"They need to be specially made," replied Hermione. She pulled a parchment out of her pocket and handed it to Fred. "Honey took the dimensions; I hope your supplier can understand them."

"I thought you wanted goggles and a scarf?" asked Fred.

"This list calls for rather large disks of quartz and yards of titanium mesh," commented George.

"That's right," said Harry. "Hermione figured out that regular goggles and scarves wouldn't hold up well to dragon use. These designs should last much longer."

Fred and George scanned the requirements and, shrugging at each other, Fred said, "We'll do what we can."

George said, "It might take a week or so, though." George looked through a list of their suppliers for likely candidates. While George did this, Fred asked, "So where's Ron and Honey? Or should I ask." He and George both waggled their eyebrows suggestively.

"They're practicing. They've been making remarkable progress, lately," said Hermione. "Ron's getting much better."

"I'm sure he is," agreed George.

"We're just surprised they still can't wait until a decent hour to 'practice'," continued Fred.

"If I had a girl like Honey," added George, "you wouldn't see me for months."

"That's not the sort of practicing we're talking about," huffed Hermione.

"Of course," smirked Harry, "I'm pretty sure that they're rapidly achieving expert levels at that activity, too."

"They did have a small setback, today," stated Hermione, seriously. "Ron had to see Madam Pomfrey after he managed to get a pebble caught in his throat." At Fred and Georges puzzled looks, she explained, "They were trying something new."

"I think we need another clue," said Fred.

"Which activity involves pebbles?" asked George.

"It was a case of a little knowledge being a dangerous thing," explained Hermione. "Honey had heard about the Greek orator, Demosthenes. He perfected his enunciation by putting small pebbles in his mouth and shouting over the waves of the ocean. Apparently, Ron used too many pebbles."

"Honey told Ron to put rocks in his mouth and he did it?" asked an incredulous Fred.

"Wouldn't you?" asked Harry. Hermione punched his shoulder.

"I suppose I would," agreed Fred. George nodded. Fred then asked, in a serious tone, "How's the other problem coming along? You know; walking."

"Not very good, I'm afraid," said Harry, quietly. "They say they're waiting to get the talking down before working on his legs but I haven't noticed any improvement at all."

"It might be permanent," said Hermione. "His mouth was still connected to his brain. We knew this immediately since he could still eat. His legs, however, are controlled from a different part of the brain. If that was one of the parts that was destroyed, then he'd need to regenerate the nerve connections for them to work. I don't know if that's even possible."

They all sat silently, considering this. Finally, George said, "We'll deal with that when the time comes. Anything we can do, you two let us know."

"We will," said Harry. Then, in a more upbeat voice, he said, "Now, unless you two have anything further to show us, Hermione has a Runes test I'm not studying for."

October 10th, 1997

Harry walked back to his spot next to Hermione. He had taken a moment during breakfast to quietly hand the box of wand attenuators to Professor Coldiron and explain their operation and use. The older auror had seemed eager to try them out. Harry stressed that although they weren't particularly secret, he shouldn't make them known to the regular students, for the time being.

"So," asked Ginny, "have Luna and Cousin Dougal finally run off to get married?" She had noticed the odd couple had not shown up for breakfast.

"Not yet," answered Hermione. "I'd expect they're having breakfast with his mother. She dropped by, unexpectedly."

"Nar...," began Ginny, quickly catching herself. "His mother is here?" she continued in a quiet whisper. "When did that happen?"

As if in answer to her question, a squadron of owls swooped in and strafed the students with the morning mail.

Temporarily distracted by the necessity of being on the lookout for incoming owls, Ginny's question remained unanswered. That situation wouldn't last for long, though.

"Made the front page again, Harry," sang out Seamus from nearby. "How many is that, so far?"

"All together or just this term?" asked Dean.

"This term," answered Seamus. "He has to start over every year or nobody could catch him."

"Actually," clarified Hermione, "you made two of the stories." She had said this for Harry's benefit but it had unintentionally carried a bit farther than expected.

"It only counts as one," rebutted Seamus. "He didn't even fight You-Know-Who, this time; just a witch. Must've been a slow news day."

"A witch?" asked Harry, trying to look at Hermione's paper.

"Narcissa Malfoy," said Hermione in a low voice. She showed him the paper. The Headline read 'Harry Potter Attacked!" Underneath, there were two pictures; both obviously file photos of himself and Narcissa Malfoy. He recognized the one of him as having been taken at Dumbledore's funeral. He was dressed nicely and had a brooding, thoughtful expression on his face. Well, he thought, he had a lot on his mind, then.

The picture of Narcissa Malfoy, however, did not resemble the beaten, slightly addled witch in the Fortress. It showed her with her arrogance in full flower. Her robes were immaculately chosen and presented. Her hair looked like she had spent hours brushing and trimming it to perfection. Her jewelry sparkled as if were lit from within. It was her eyes, though, that caught your, well, eye. They spoke volumes of the person behind. She was a member of the elite. The wife of Lucius Malfoy. Personal acquaintance of the Dark Lord, himself. Do not trifle with her. Harry read the article.

Narcissa Malfoy, widow of Lucius Malfoy and long suspected to be a member of the Death Eaters, participated in a carefully planned, though ultimately unsuccessful sneak attack on Harry Potter; the Chosen One. Witnesses stated that shortly after one o'clock, Harry Potter, well known for his kindness and generosity, approached what he thought was an old woman in need of assistance. When he was within striking distance, the powerful witch revealed herself and attacked. Potter, even then concerned more for the safety of a woman than himself, cautioned those nearby to not harm her. His chivalry was rewarded with a quick spell from Mrs. Malfoy (witnesses were unsure of its type). Potter blocked this spell and then deftly disarmed his would-be assassin at which point she began a brutal physical assault. One can only wonder at the amount of damage that was inflicted on the handsome young wizard as he merely deflected her vicious blows. Despite the inevitable pain, he refused to injure Malfoy with more damaging countermeasures until help finally arrived. It took at least two aurors to subdue the witch. After Malfoy was finally arrested, Mr. Potter was seen retrieving the small bag of apples that were used for Mrs. Malfoy's deception and following humbly behind to assist in the investigation.

"Well," said Harry. "Well." He didn't know what else to say.

"Yes," agreed Hermione. "It seems that you've either understated the incident or they have a young witch as news editor." She smiled up at him, warmly.

"It's more or less accurate, I guess," conceded Harry. "It's just not the way it happened."

"Thanks for clearing that up, Harry," said Honey.

"I mean, yes; I offered to help what I thought was an old woman and yes; she turned out to be Mrs. Malfoy but I'm sure it wasn't a planned attack."

"What about the part about not wanting to hurt her?" asked Neville.

"I didn't want to hurt her," confirmed Harry. "I was talking to the elves, though, not the bystanders when I told them to back off. They were invisible, though, so that explains the confusion. And I could hardly feel her when she tried to hit me. Maybe it looked worse than it felt."

"Anna abbles?" asked Ron. (And the apples?)

"I don't know," said Harry, shaking his head. "She just looked so thin. I thought she must be hungry and would want them."

"Fair enough," said Ginny. "How much of the other story is true, then?"

"Oh, I forgot," said Harry. He scanned the front page until he found the secondary story.

Ministry Harasses Harry Potter

For those of you wondering why Harry Potter was unexpectedly in London in the first place, you have to look no further than the Ministry of Magic. It has long been recognized that the Ministry of Magic, under both the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, and his predecessor, has been somewhat antagonistic towards both Harry Potter and his mentor, the late Albus Dumbledore. Until recently, however, that animosity was kept fairly well in check. In fact, several incidents seemed to indicate that progress was being made towards achieving a more mutually beneficial relationship. Now, it seems, the Ministry has seen fit to actively harass Mr. Potter for reasons unknown. This reporter has discovered that Harry Potter was summoned to the Ministry for no greater purpose than to discuss concerns about his apparation license. While lesser citizens would only have been subjected to a short talk and, perhaps, a small fine, Mr. Potter had to endure several hours of detailed, nitpicking, questions and testimony before Alastor Moody, a retired auror who is perhaps less afraid of Ministry reprisals than others, came to his assistance. In the end, all charges, imagined or otherwise, were dismissed and Potter was allowed to leave.

The suddenness and timing of his release has led some to speculate on whether or not the hearing itself was merely a diversion that's purpose was to place Potter on Diagon Alley at a specific time. No concrete evidence has yet been found to back that assertion up but the coincidence warrants further investigation.

"Great," said Harry. "They make it sound like Rufus is out to get me." He re-read the article in disbelief.

"And yet, once again," said Hermione, "the facts aren't that far off the mark. You can't really complain about either article without sounding like some sort of an idiot."

"I suppose not," agreed Harry. "It'll all blow over in a day or so, anyway."

"I hope so," said Hermione. "We still have to figure out what to do with her, you know."

"I know," said Harry. "If she was still like this," he pointed at Narcissa's picture, "I wouldn't mind keeping her where she is. You remember how she treated us the few times we met, don't you?"

"Yes," said Hermione, "but being a git isn't a crime. In any case, she's not quite all there, anymore. Even Dougal said as much. We can't really send her home, for now. I hate to give her a nice flat but that would probably do her the most good."

Harry sighed. "It can be such a burden, at times, being so kind and generous." He laughed a bit but Hermione agreed with him.

"We still have two flats left and the others will be started soon," said Hermione. "I don't think she'd be a good candidate for a roommate, so that's the best we can do, for now."

"Works for me," said Harry and they resumed their breakfast.

As they were leaving the Great Hall, McGonagall caught up to Harry and said, "Mr. Potter. Could I speak with you for a moment?"

Harry, surprisingly having a class to attend first period, hesitated for just a moment before saying, "Of course, Headmistress." He then said, to Hermione, "I'll be along as soon as I can." Hermione paused before heading off to Potions along side of Ron and Honey. If the carpet were a bit longer, she'd have hitched a ride but only Honey would receive curb service to her classroom, today.

Harry was prepared to follow McGonagall to her office but she merely led the way to a nearby alcove. When the last student within earshot had left, she said, "I received a note from the Minister, this morning. He plans on stopping by this evening with some news on the Avada Kedavra."

Harry said nothing. He had nearly forgotten about the subject. More accurately, he had nearly forced it from his mind. Now that a deadline had been set for the end of his blissful ignorance, it came back in full force. After a few seconds to regain his composure, he asked, "Did Rufus indicate what he might have found, Minerva?"

"Not directly," replied the older witch. "He just said he wanted to talk to you about it in person. He and Greta will arrive tonight by my floo. I'd like for you and Hermione to join us for supper and we can discuss it, together."

Harry was touched by the gesture. The newspaper had just painted a portrait of Rufus Scrimgeour that was anything but flattering and here he was, taking time out of his busy schedule to come and talk to him about a very personal matter. "I'll be looking forward to it very much, Minerva. I appreciate the time that both you and Rufus are taking on this matter."

"I appreciate the chance to have supper with Rufus," chuckled Minerva. "We may need a favor, in return, you know. If Greta were able to spend a little time with you and Hermione..."

"You'd be able to spend a little time with Rufus," finished Harry, smiling. "I believe that can be arranged."

"Very good," said Minerva, standing. "That's all, then. I'll expect you both at seven. Oh, wait. Do you have to see Poppy, tonight?" She had forgotten his medical practice.

"No," said Harry. "I have the night off. We'll meet you in your office this evening." They parted company and Harry went off to Potions.

When he arrived, just before the period began, fortunately, he found his wife to be slightly more distracted than usual. She had that glazed over look that was fairly common to many teenage women but which she usually was able to avoid. When Harry sat down and tapped her on the shoulder, she didn't flinch nor acknowledge his presence for a good three seconds. She slowly turned her head to face him but didn't bring him into focus.

"Hello, Honey," he said, knowing that the ill-chosen endearment was the most likely to snap her out of her reverie.

"Oh. Hi, Harry," she said, distractedly. "I'm glad you made it in time." She went back into her trance.

"What is it?" asked Harry, pulling out their caldron in preparation for the class.

"What?" asked Hermione. Even the oblivious Ron was aware that something was up by this time.

"Ah you ohay, ermony?" asked Ron, concerned.

"I'm sorry," she said, physically shaking the cobwebs out of her head. "I was having a flashback."

"A what?" asked Harry.

"A flashback," repeated Hermione. "I'll tell you about it later. It's not that important." She opened up their potions kit and began to lay out the ingredients that today's potion would require.

"Fine," said Harry as he lit the fire underneath the caldron.

For the next fifteen minutes, the three of them worked on their potion; adding water and corn syrup in specific quantities; stirring in the chopped murtlap root; casting three very mild pulverization spells as it began to change from orange to purple, and so forth. When they reached a point where it had to simmer for a few minutes, Harry resumed their conversation.

"Alright, Hermione," he began, "what was up at the beginning of class?" He and Ron paused their preparations for the next phase of the potion for a moment and looked at Hermione.

"As I said," began Hermione, indicating that the pair of them had better start mincing their frog tongues, "I was having a flashback to a difficult part of my childhood."

"Which one?" asked Harry. "We've all had our share of 'difficult' times." Ron nodded.

"I meant before Hogwarts," said Hermione. "When I was five, my mother had surgery to have her aortic valve replaced."

"A whatic valve?" asked Harry. He had become significantly more knowledgeable of female anatomy than he was before his marriage but he didn't remember seeing any valves.

"An aortic valve," repeated Hermione. "It's a part of the heart. Her valve was defective and they replaced it with a mechanical one."

"I see," said Harry. "And something reminded you of that?"

"No," answered Hermione. "You see, although it was a fairly common procedure, it was still open heart surgery and there was the possibility that she could die. My parents had decided to tell me this, just in case. They didn't mean anything by it, of course, and I'm glad they included me in on everything, even as a child, but it was really scary."

"Ah gusso," agreed Ron. He was intrigued by Hermione's story and had stopped his preparations, for a moment."

"Back to work, you two," she commanded. When they resumed their labor, she continued, "Anyway, the surgery was fine but they put her on anticoagulants and pain killers so that she could heal properly. Between the pills and the recovery, itself, she wasn't quite herself for a few weeks. She was always tired and didn't make a lot of sense when she talked. I didn't know what was wrong with her and she was so weak that I thought she might still die."

"That was over ten years ago," said Harry. "What brought it up, today?"

"Dougal," said Hermione. "He has the same look in his eye that I had. I think he's convinced himself that the widow from your stupid prophecy is his mother."

"We discussed that, already," said Harry, quickly glancing over at Dougal's table. "There's no reason to believe that she's the one just because she's a widow."

"I agree," agreed Hermione. "The coincidence is quite remarkable, though. You and Luna hear a prophecy about a widow and the next day, out of the blue, his mother shows up. I tell you, I don't blame him for being worried."

Harry thought about this. After a few seconds, he said, "I guess I can't completely disagree. Of course, she'll be getting better now, I suppose. She'll be properly taken care of and she has her son back."

"That should help. He has Luna to help him through this, too." Hermione consulted her watch and said, "Okay. It's time to add four ounces of the diced tongue." She placed the weights on their scale while Ron placed small amounts of tongue on the other side to balance it out.

"Di you efer onsider how nuttews you'd haffe to be to be the firse person to use diced fwog tons inna posun?" asked Ron as he worked.

Harry laughed and Hermione scowled. Their little part of the world, at least, was starting to get back to normal.

Later that afternoon, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Tonks and Lupin held a short meeting in their office.

"I think we have everything worked out with the goblins," said Remus. "For transport within the Fortress complex, including the ice fortress, we'll be requiring authorized pass rings. That should prevent another unscheduled trip." Harry had discovered, almost immediately, that just having a portkey icon hanging on the wall that only required contact was less than safe. Hermione had come to fetch him, fortunately, or he would have spent a long time at their northern fortress trying to use the password protected return icon.

"Were they able to come up with a way for us to adjust the authorized areas for each ring?" asked Hermione.

"No," answered Remus. "We finally agreed that their expert would have scheduled office hours here on Tuesdays and Fridays to take care of that. If we run into an emergency, they'll help us but that will cost extra."

"What sort of a price are we talking about for normal service?" asked Harry.

"The rings are fifty galleons, each. That's just to make them. After that, they'll charge us five galleons a day per ring with the first two uses per day included. After that, it will be two galleons each use."

"That sounds a little steep, doesn't it?" asked Hermione. "Did you remember to bargain with them?"

"That was with the bargaining," answered Remus. "It wouldn't have been that good a deal except I threatened to turn over the negotiations to Harry if they refused my final offer. They muttered something about not playing fair and signed."

"I never thought they'd be that timid," said Hermione, smirking. "You knock their bank off it's foundations and they completely wimp out." Ron laughed.

"I said I was sorry," said Harry. "The rings sound fine, Remus. What about the rest?"

"Except for these specific pass rings, we're completely portkey warded and the anti-apparition wards should be up by Monday. You'll probably have to start using the designated areas just like the rest of us. They'll also work on the house elves. Besides the designated apparition zones, everyone will have to get around almost exclusively by the portkey rings. The five of us plus Martha and the attending house elves will have our rings encoded to work on individual portkey icons on the inside and outside of each cell." Remus looked through the contract to see if he had missed anything.

"I'd like Luna's ring added to that," said Harry. "If something should happen while interrogating a prisoner, I'd like for her to be able to escape."

Remus made a note on a parchment and said, "Each of the guest quarters will also have an icon to take them outside. Minerva and I have set up an area near the main gate that should work out. The rings will know to which flat they should return. This office will have a master set of icons plus the ice fortress will return us to a variety of locations. Good prisoners will only be able to go to the recreation area at specific times but they won't require assistance, anymore. I believe that's it."

"Do you have an idea of the ongoing cost?" asked Harry. This sounded a bit on the expensive side.

"The initial fees for setting everything up and making the rings and icons was..." Remus checked his contract, "One hundred and twenty-six thousand, three hundred and forty galleons. That includes the portkey and anti-apparition wards. Since we need the goblins to make periodic visits anyway, I saved a lot of money by just renting their best wards instead of buying them. The break even point between renting and buying was over twelve years and I bet on you being quicker than that."

"Thanks," said Harry. "That's less than I thought it would be. It sounds like the monthly charges will be less than a thousand galleons, then?" Harry knew that the exact amount would be based on usage but he wanted to check his math skills on a general level.

"I'd say much less," said Remus. "At least for the rings and icons. It all depends, of course. The wards are a further five hundred per month, each."

"Fine," said Harry. "Now. Did you have a chance to talk to Mad-eye and Shacklebolt about the trip, yesterday?"

"Yes," said Remus. "We still don't know what their plan was. It might have been disrupted by Narcissa."

"Maybe," mused Harry. "I was only a few steps from the Leaky Caldron, though. You'd have thought that anything that was going to happen, would have." He thought a bit more and frowned.

"May he mah eye as ooh esfestiff," suggested Ron. (Maybe Mad-eye was too effective.)

"Too effective?" asked Harry. Then, with a bit of comprehension, he asked, "You mean I got out of that meeting too soon?"

Ron nodded and said, "tah might of nah been eady." (They might have not been ready.)

"That could be," agreed Tonks. "If they expected you to be tied up until four or five o'clock, they wouldn't want to be hanging around to be discovered."

"That sounds like the most reasonable answer," said Hermione. "Otherwise, they went to a lot of trouble just to annoy you."

"Whatever the circumstances," said Harry, "I'm glad that it all ended up alright. I didn't really want to get into a major battle with that many people around."

"I suppose not," agreed Remus. "We'll continue to think on it but it seems that, for whatever reasons, their plans just didn't work out, this time. I'd expect that they'll learn from this so we'd better do the same."

"For next time," said Harry. They all knew that there would probably be a next time.

"Speaking of this time," asked Hermione, "which flat did Mrs. Malfoy choose?" They had two unused flats. One had magical windows overlooking Donegal Bay in Ireland and the other featured Snowdonia National Park in Wales.

"She said she liked to watch the ocean," said Tonks. "Dougal and Luna helped her settle in over lunch.

"Does she know where she is, yet?" asked Harry.

"She's someplace safe," answered Tonks. "She recognized me but apparently forgot I'm an auror, now. I'm not sure if she understands what's going on in the world and is just glad to have her son back."

"That's about what I thought," said Harry. "We'll give her a few days to rest before we bring her up to date."

"That's very kind and generous of you Harry," said Remus. Smirking, he added, "Of course, you're well known for that."

"I've heard," said an annoyed Harry. He wondered how long it would take before people stopped referring to that bloody article in the Prophet.

At seven o'clock, Harry and Hermione popped into the waiting area of Minerva's office. They wore their dress robes since they'd be dining with the Minister of Magic and the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Harry knocked.

After a short pause, the door opened as if by magic and Minerva appeared before them in her finest green tartan robes. "Welcome," she said. "Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable." She ushered them through the Headmistress' office and on into her parlor.

Rufus was already there, along with Greta, of course. Harry and Hermione gave Greta a dilemma when they both bent low with their arms outstretched in anticipation of her hug. Actually, Greta had no dilemma; she bounded excitedly into Harry's embrace.

"Well," said Hermione, miffed. "I thought that we girls stuck together." She turned her head sideways, in mock indignation.

"Don't blame Greta," said Rufus. "She's a child and is naturally drawn to someone as kind and generous as Harry."

"Very funny, Rufus," said Harry. Inwardly, he was glad that the Minister was obviously not too upset with the slant of the articles.

"The attack was funny, too," said Rufus. He didn't waste any time in getting down to business. "Funny as in strange, that is. I read Kingsley's report and he felt confident that the whole incident was spontaneous."

"I'm sure it was," agreed Harry. "I should be careful in my speculation as I was just rightly humbled for discounting the ability of scores of Death Eaters to harm me but I'm pretty sure that Mrs. Malfoy wouldn't have been sent specifically for that purpose with any hope of success."

"Of course not," chimed in Minerva. "It seems that she and Harry ran into each other purely by chance. From what her son has reported, though, it might have been her good fortune."

"What do you mean?" asked Scrimgeour, suddenly more alert.

"She hasn't been taking very good care of herself," explained Minerva. "She's had some severe shocks in the past few months. Her husband and sister killed and she thought her son had died, as well." Harry and Hermione nodded at this. They knew her story only too well. It had been Harry, in fact, that was personally responsible for the two real deaths.

"May I take it from your statements that you have knowledge of the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy?" asked Rufus, seriously.

"Well, of course..." began Harry before his brain engaged. Rufus was not aware that Dougal Weasley was really Draco Malfoy. He was still a wanted man, as far as the Minister of Magic was concerned.

"Of course?" asked Rufus. He turned to Minerva. "And what about you, Minerva? Are you party to this conspiracy?"

Minerva sighed and said, "I'm afraid I am, Rufus. Mr. Malfoy has been disguised with my help and is currently attending Hogwarts under an assumed name."

The Minister of Magic sat quietly. He didn't look at any of them for almost a minute and no one else broke the silence. When he could no longer contain himself, he asked the room at large, "How in the world could you people aid someone so clearly complicit in the betrayal of this school and the death of Professor Dumbledore? What reason could justify such a severe breach of the law?"

"The best of all reasons, Rufus. Forgiveness. We all need to be forgiven, from time to time." It was Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his more intimate frame.

"Forgiveness?" asked Rufus. "You mean he just said he was sorry and you forgave him, just like that?" His auror background was kicking in a bit, unable to accept reconciliation without punishment.

"No," answered Harry. "He didn't say he was sorry; not at first, at least. He did show it, though. He left the Death Eaters shortly after he arrived at Riddle Manor with Snape. He then spent a few weeks on the run until we captured him."

"So he deserted, eh?" asked Rufus, unmoved. "And you lot just forgave him and helped him avoid capture from either Voldemort or the Ministry. Fairly lenient terms for amnesty, wouldn't you say?"

"It wasn't quite that simple, Rufus," intoned McGonagall, not hiding her annoyance at his suddenly rigid position on Draco.

"No, it wasn't," interrupted Harry, "and the reason he left and the reasons we believe his repentance is real are highly private and personal to an innocent woman. If you require proof, though, I will ask her for her permission to tell you all about it. In lieu of that, I would ask that you take my word that he is a changed man and is actively helping our cause. The man he helped murder has forgiven him. That in itself should offer some insight."

Rufus remained silent for a moment. Before he could decide, either way, Greta presented him with the proper perspective. "It's just like Miss Kristy told us in class, Grampa; to forgive is fine." At his blank look she added, "You know; the air is humming; to forgive is fine."

Hermione laughed, followed in quick order by Minerva and Rufus. Harry just smiled for a few seconds until the mirth subsided. He then asked, "The air is humming?" More laughter.

Finally, Rufus said, "I suppose I'm outvoted on this. In this case, I guess, to err is human; to forgive, divine." He said the last few words slowly for Harry's benefit and everyone else's amusement.

Dinner was served and the adults enjoyed each other's company with small talk until eight o'clock. At this time, a knock was heard at the door of Minerva's office.

"That must be Luna," said Hermione. She rose while adding, "I felt that the main subject of tonight's meeting was inappropriate for such a young girl as Greta." She left to let in the new arrival.

"But I want to stay with Harry and you," whined Greta. "Why can't I stay?" The lateness of the hour added to her inability to prevent a few tears.

"We won't be long," said Harry, comfortingly. "We just have a few things to discuss with Grampa and then you'll be having a sleep over."

"A sleep over?" asked Rufus and Greta, together.

"Yes," said Hermione, returning with Luna and Dougal. "It's at Honey's flat. She's getting everything ready right now. We'll kick Ron out and Greta, Luna, Honey, Ginny and I can have a slumber party."

"It sounds like fun," said Greta, excitedly. She was no longer sleepy.

"Oh, it will be," said Hermione. "We'll all get in our nighties and sit around telling stories, eating snacks, trying on makeup, fixing our hair, maybe have a pillow fight and just have fun."

"And you think all of us guys wouldn't enjoy that?" asked Harry, mystified. Even Dougal perked up at the thought.

"I didn't say you wouldn't enjoy it," said Hermione. "I think you'd all probably enjoy it a little too much. You, in particular, since two of the other girls are former girlfriends."

"Two?" asked Harry.

"We only went out once," clarified Luna. "I don't think that qualifies."

"Harry had a good time so, yes, it does," declared Hermione.

"And what will your men be doing while you girls are otherwise engaged?" asked Rufus.

"Funny you should use that word," said Harry. "We were all planning on talking Dougal into popping the question."

Dougal's face went pale just as Luna's lit up. "Oh, that would be wonderful," she gushed, throwing her arms around an increasingly shocked Dougal. "Remember," she instructed, "you should wait to let them convince you. If you agree right away, you won't have anything to do for the rest of the night." Luna then planted a very exuberant kiss on Dougal's lips, effectively sucking the rest of the air out of his already inactive lungs.

Dougal dropped into a fortunately located chair. When he was able to speak, his first words were, "Bloody hell! What happened?" Everyone, including Luna, laughed uproariously.

"We're all just teasing you, dear," explained Luna, giving him another, more modest, kiss on the cheek.

Dougal sighed in relief. "Thank God," he said, without thinking.

"I beg your pardon, dear," said Luna with uncharacteristic menace in her voice.

Dougal didn't cringe like Harry would have. Instead, he smiled and said, "I know you'll forgive me."

Luna smiled back and said, "You know I already have."

"Ah, young love," said Rufus, sporting a grin, himself. "It was a long, long time ago but I still remember it."

"It wasn't all that long ago, Rufus," said Minerva, forcing a smile.

"It's been over fifty years," countered Rufus, "since I was first in love."

"I'm older than you, Rufus," said Minerva, "so it wasn't long ago, at all."

"I'd quite while I was ahead," suggested Harry.

"Right you are, Harry," said Rufus, standing up. "Come along, Greta," he directed. "It's time for you to go with Luna and, uh, was it Dougal?" He looked closely at Dougal.

"That's right, Minister," said Dougal. He waited for Rufus to say something more but Rufus continued to examine him, silently.

"Dougal Weasley, I presume," he said, finally.

"Correct," answered Dougal.

Luna put her hand over her mouth and said, "He knows." She lightened up a shade and looked nervously at the Minister of Magic.

No one said anything. They all sat or stood as still as statues. Well, almost all of them. With a confused look, Greta asked, "What's wrong, Grampa? What do you know?"

Rufus didn't say anything for a moment longer. Then, with a shrug, he said, "Pleased to meet you, Dougal. Have a nice night, Greta." He turned from Dougal and returned to his chair.

The spell wasn't broken for a moment longer. Then, Luna and Dougal each took one of Greta's hands and led her out the door.

"I'm curious, Rufus," said Harry, after they had gone. "What gave it away?"

"Twenty years experience," said Rufus, smiling. "The easy mistake was the fake glasses. Real glasses distort the view when you look through them. Those were like window panes. The dye job, although fairly well done, looked a bit too homogeneous. Real hair doesn't look that consistent. I probably wouldn't have noticed either clue, though, if we weren't just talking about him."

"I appreciate your discretion, Rufus," said McGonagall. "Mr. Malfoy has made considerable use of his second chance and I believe he's left his old life behind him."

"He may have tried to leave it behind," corrected Rufus, "but it's caught up to him."

"I meant the evil part," modified Minerva. "No one would have expected him to turn his back on his mother."

"I suppose not," said Rufus. "She was a piece of work, in her day, but she never officially joined the Death Eaters. How's she doing, anyway?"

"We aren't sure, just yet," answered Hermione. "We've been letting Dougal and Luna help her adjust."

"And Tonks," added Harry. "She's her niece and she knows her. From what we've heard, she's happy to know that Draco's alive and well. She's also eating better and seems to be catching up on her sleep. Her mental condition, however, is uncertain. Her husband and sister were both killed recently and until yesterday, she thought Draco was dead, as well."

"Life is so harsh, sometimes," said Rufus, coldly. At Minerva and Hermione's (but not Harry's) surprised looks, he added, "She's never had a problem when her husband and sister did the same thing to countless innocent families."

"True," said Hermione, after a moment's reflection. "All things considered, she's probably getting treated better than she deserves. We gave her one of our last nice flats and she has an elf to watch over her as well as guard her."

"Well," said Rufus, "if she starts to recover, you might get a taste of the old Narcissa Malfoy. Then you might reconsider your generosity."

"I'm pretty sure that she'll never become one of Harry's supporters," said Hermione. "Of course, she won't have anyone to encourage her worst sort of behavior so we'll just have to play it by ear."

"I suppose," said Rufus, non-committally. "In the end, she's your problem and not mine."

"True enough," relied Harry. After a pause, he said, "I believe the time has come to discuss my other problem. What were you able to find out." He braced himself .

"The short answer is that you're right," said Rufus, bluntly. "As far as I was..." He stopped as Harry collapsed back into he chair, eyes closed and breathing hard, fighting back tears.

"Harry?" asked Hermione, dropping to her knees besides his chair and putting an arm around his waist. "Oh, Harry." She hugged him closely, crying for him. He had made such an effort to hold onto the hope that he was wrong and that his parent's souls were still whole and he'd be reunited with them, someday. To have that taken away from him pulled one of the main supports of his foundation out from under him.

"Harry," she repeated. "It's..." What could she say? It's alright? Everything will be fine? It wasn't and it wouldn't. She decided to stick with the truth. "I... I love you, Harry. I'm here for you. I love you." She held him closer.

Rufus and Minerva looked on, sadly. The both knew, after glancing at each other, that Harry was in torment but his best hope for comfort was already with him. They both waited silently for the inevitable control to return to him. Harry Potter was, if nothing else, a survivor. He would be damaged by this news and the following conversation but he wouldn't crumble under it's weight.

After only one minute, Harry, who had subconsciously expected this result, regained control of himself and, with a kiss for his wife, sat back upright in his chair and said, "Go on, Rufus."

"Well," began Rufus, "the only definitive research done on the Avada Kedavra happened around six hundred years ago. They used condemned prisoners for their research and, from what I could gather, a few empaths like your friend, Luna, to study various means of execution. They were looking for less painless methods, you see. The empaths could determine the level of suffering and moment of death. Their records indicated that for more normal means of execution, the souls were released at death and could be sensed fading off as they went to the next plane of existence. When they tried the Avada Kedavra, the souls just vanished. It was sudden and complete, according to the witnesses and they determined that the souls must have been destroyed. The experiment answered another old question as to why the Avada Kedavra killed at all. It was the only spell that killed without pain or damage and this explanation fit the results. As you can probably understand, further tests were not conducted since few, if any, crimes warranted having such a complete punishment."

Harry sat quietly for a moment longer. He finally resigned himself to the truth and logic behind it. His parents were gone; their souls destroyed. This was also true of Dumbledore, Cedric and countless others. The wizard responsible for many of those deaths was his sworn enemy.

"Thank you, Rufus," said Harry, eventually. "It's a bitter pill to swallow but the truth is the truth." He suddenly laughed.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione, still concerned for his sanity.

"I happened to think," replied Harry. "Lord Voldemort has killed so many with the Avada Kedavra and yet he is safe from it's casting. He'll still die, however, in the same manner. His soul will be destroyed, piece by piece, and I'll be the one to do it."

Harry picked up his glass of mead and calmly drained it while the others looked on in shock at the claim and certainty of the truth in it.

Author's Note: I couldn't think of a good title and always liked that one.


	66. Chapter 66

Chapter 66 - Mount Etna

October 11th, 1997

"And the Hungarian Horntail was fooled that easily?" asked an unconvinced Ceana. She knew a couple dragons of that breed and didn't think they'd be quite as easy to get by as Hermione described.

"I may be leaving out some of the difficulty," admitted Hermione. "I was half in shock while watching the whole thing, as I'm sure you'll understand. I think that there might have also been some lingering effects of the spells they used to calm her down for the trip from Europe." Hermione decided that she had better come up with a theory that gave Harry an unfair advantage to explain the dragon's loss in the first task.

"I suppose it's possible," agreed Caoimhe, deciding to end the conversation before the somewhat prejudiced Ceana went off on one of her rants about being forced to remain on the island. "So, what's Harry like at home? Is he as nice as a wizard as he is normally?" Caoimhe delicately pulled a leg off of her already cooked sheep and, as had become the habit with most of the rest of her herd, dipped it into a vat of honey before gulping it down. Harry had been right about that modification to their dietary staple.

"Oh, he's usually pretty good," answered Hermione. She had been taking the occasional nibble off of her mutton, trying to keep in the spirit of the picnic. "He sometimes needs the occasional whack on the head to keep him in line." She sat on the edge of a fairly level outcropping about ten feet up a cliff. She was still a bit lower than the average dragon but they could converse fairly well.

"Osgar's the same way," agreed Sorcha. "He just loves his little jokes."

"Harry's been practicing with puns," whined Hermione, "if you can call it that. It might take you a while to become a bit more familiar with the language before you catch all of them." Hermione had successfully overcome the dragon speech enchantment by means of a neuronic shield spell that prevented the excitation of the adrenal gland and a potion to inhibit the artificially enhanced production of naturally occurring psychotropic chemical compounds which resulted in the usual reaction to dragons sitting down for a chat. She had been surprised when, having expected to have to deal with most of the dragons talking in Scottish, she discovered that they had a superb natural ability with linguistics and Sionn had taught them all perfectly passable English in the week since Harry's first visit.

"He seems to have moved on to more physical comedic endeavors," commented Ceana. They all looked over at the boys as they tried to ignite the semi-voluntary gaseous emissions produced by an excess of pressure within their gastrointestinal tracks. A large plume of steam rose from the lake as one of Harry's more energetic attempts vaporized a few hundred gallons of water.

"He could possibly have a bad influence on your mates," cautioned Hermione. "You might want me to ask him to tone it down a bit."

"Nonsense," laughed Eithne. "We've been bored out of our minds for long enough. We need someone like Harry to get our blood flowing, again."

"He'll do that," agreed Hermione, "if he doesn't give you all diabetes, first." She watched as Harry, followed by his disciples went over to Winky to get their next batch of treacle tarts. The true dragons were happy with ten pound slices but Harry insisted on fifty pound slabs. This would be his eighth.

"They're not going back for more, are they?" asked Sorcha, astounded. "I'll admit that they taste great but you have to limit yourselves a little, don't you?"

"Harry usually stops when it's gone," admitted Hermione. The other girls laughed. Hermione was experienced enough by this time to be able to shield herself quite easily from the errant blasts of flame.

"Sorry, dear," said Caoimhe. "You're pretty good with that little stick of yours."

"Thanks," said Hermione. She looked at her watch. "I must say that I've enjoyed this visit, but we really have to pick up Ron and Honey so we can be in Italy in time to find a nice hotel."

"Oh, must you be off so soon?" asked Eithne. "We're just getting to know you."

"I've enjoyed it, too," said Hermione. "I'm sure we'll be coming back since we have the enchantment figured out. Now, I have to collect my... Oh, bloody hell. Not another race."

Yes, it was another race. The boys, like all boys, liked competition. Periodically, they would stop their usual boisterous activities and head out across the lake at breakneck speeds. The blacks had the advantage with maneuverability, simply because of the physics involved. Harry, however, could match their speed. He could surpass them in one activity; rooster tails. At one hundred miles per hour, because of his size and shape, he could, when properly low against the surface, suck the water beneath him into a nearly eighty foot high spout. The other dragons enjoyed riding this geyser, approaching as it did, the effect of surfing.

"Boys will be boys," said Ceana. "By the way, do you think you could leave a bit of the treacle tart?" She, alone amongst the females, had not attempted to resist the alluring pastry.

"I'm planning on leaving it all," said Hermione. "Harry's had enough, I think." She looked out towards the serving area and called, "Winky!"

"What is Mistress wanting Winky to be doing?" asked the elf. They had not yet pursued their options for her rehabilitation.

"Please cut the remaining tarts into the correct size for our new friends and place them for easy access," said Hermione. "After that, you may return home."

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky and returned to her improvised kitchen.

"That's very generous of you," said Ceana. "I'll bet it doesn't see nightfall, though." She eyed the treacle tarts lustfully.

"That's what I'd expect," said Hermione. "Harry had a whole tray, once, and he thought it'd last him a week. He got up five times during the night, that I noticed, and there was nothing but crumbs, by morning."

Again, the girls laughed. Hermione had joined them for a split second before remembering that she had to protect herself. After the flames died down, Hermione stood and shouted out, over the lake, "Harry! We need to be going!" There was no response, although she knew sound traveled very well over the water. Performing a Sonorus charm, she tried again. "HARRY!"

This had almost the correct response. About three seconds after she called, all of the blacks by Harry turned and looked. Harry, however, did his best to act as if he hadn't heard her and flew off towards the east, once more; Osgar and Finnean following immediately with Sionn and Ciaran not far behind. From the glow preceding them, the girls could tell they were all laughing.

"I'll get him," offered Sorcha, flying off eagerly.

"I'll help," said Caoimhe, as she, too, launched herself into the air, laughing lightly.

"Can't I take him anywhere," asked Hermione, "without having a dozen females falling all over him?"

"There aren't a dozen of us," corrected Eithne, "but you probably have a point. Caoimhe didn't stop talking about him last week until Sionn told her, point blank, to shut up."

Hermione sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter, I guess. He's perfectly faithful. He's also made his last trip here without me." She crossed her arms as she watched Caoimhe and Sorcha catch up to her husband and head him back in the right direction. Within a minute, Harry was standing next to Hermione, kissing her gently in greeting.

"We had a wonderful time," he said to his new friends. "Maybe you could come to our place, sometime."

"To Hogwarts?" asked Sionn. "Sure. I think we'd like a change of scenery."

"We'll have to clear that with Minerva," said Hermione. "Hagrid would love it, though."

"I'm sure he would," agreed Harry. With a final flury of farewells, they returned to their suite.

Later that day, but still early afternoon.

"Welcome to Locanda di Casa Milia," said the tall Englishman behind the counter. "My name is Cedric Hillington. How may I be of service?" He sported a bushy mustache of the Vernon Dursley variety but otherwise seemed friendly enough.

"Oh," said Hermione, surprised. "I was expecting Italian. You're English, of course."

"Naturally," answered the man. "All staff in this hotel are English. Surely, that's why you've chosen us, isn't it? To facilitate your enjoyment of the area without being required to surmount a foreign language, as well."

"Makes sense to me," said Harry, shrugging. "We'd like two rooms, please."

"Two rooms," repeated the clerk, making no move to check on the availability.

"Yes," said Harry.

"You all seem a little young to be securing hotel rooms, aren't you?" He looked at them with a knowing suspicion.

"Weef all of aisge," said Ron, hotly. He was already in something of a bad mood since he had to temporarily abandon his flying carpet in favor of a wheelchair.

"I beg your pardon," said Hillington, not quite catching Ron's statement.

"He said that we're all of age," repeated Honey. "Harry and Hermione are married and Ron and I are engaged, if it's any of your business."

"I'm so terribly sorry," apologized Hillington, "but you see the local government is cracking down, as it were, on certain activities that young people, such as yourselves, are wont to engage in at establishments such as this."

"We're just looking for a place to stay, tonight," explained Hermione. "We plan on exploring the volcano a bit and just need a place to sleep. Are you able to provide us with suitable lodging, or not?"

"There shouldn't be a problem," said the clerk. "I'll just need to see some identification and you'll be accommodated in a jif."

"Identification?" asked Harry and Hermione, together. They gave each other a worried look.

"Yes, of course," said Hillington. "Surely, you must have needed to provide identification to make your way this far into Sicily. A passport, at the least, would be required."

As it turned out, they hadn't needed any form of identification since they traveled primarily by house elf. Jumper and Sleepy were standing nearby under their invisibility cloaks. They had determined the most efficient means of arriving at the town of Casa Milia by discussing similar trips that the other Hogwarts elves had made in the past. In the wizarding world, identification cards were unknown. In a practical sense, they'd be useless due to the ease with which any competent witch or wizard would be able to forge any credentials required. This would be true in the case of the young travelers, as well, except they completely forgot about that particular necessity when traveling as muggles.

Harry asked, "Could you please handle this, Hermione?" It was time to turn this problem over to the brains of the operation. Harry stepped back to make room for his wife.

Hermione stepped forward and evaluated all of their options, their legal options, at least, and decided it was time to beg. "Please, sir," she said, "we don't have any identification and can't explain why. We just need rooms for the night and then you'll never see us again; I promise." She tried to look honest as she smiled hopefully at Hillington.

Hillington asked, "Do you at least have someone with proper identification that can vouch for you?" He seemed a bit exasperated.

"Sure," said Harry. "I've got her photo, right here. I assume you recognize the face?" He handed over ten, twenty pound notes.

"I certainly do, sir," said the suddenly more jovial clerk, glancing at the face of the Queen. "Her word is good, sir." He pocketed the cash and checked his room ledger. "Let's see; rooms 112 and 114 are available. They face towards Mt. Etna and are on the ground floor." He had rightly taken the occupancy of Ron in a wheelchair into account.

"That will be excellent," said Harry. "How much for the night?" He held onto the rest of his stack of notes in anticipation.

"The rooms are one hundred and twenty five thousand lire, each, for a total..." began Hillington.

"WHAT?" shouted an irate and ill-informed Harry. "Why that's... that's..."

"That'll be fine," said Hermione, calmly taking the money from Harry. "What would that be in pounds, please?" She had a good idea but hadn't kept up on the exact rate of exchange.

"The total would be one hundred pounds," answered Hillington, smirking at Harry's confusion. Hermione handed over the money and collected the keys.

"Thank you, Mr. Hillington," she said. Then, to her companions, she suggested, "Let's leave our bags in our rooms and freshen up a bit before we head out." She waited for the bellhops to pick up their suitcases and lead the way.

Harry was going to be very popular with the staff at the hotel. He had only brought twenty pound notes so the bellboys received more than their usual tips, to put it mildly.

"It's two o'clock," said Harry, refering to his watch. "We should have plenty of time to examine the area and find the entrance that Peter told me about."

"It's three o'clock and we'd better hurry," said Hermione. She waited.

"Is two," said Ron after checking his watch, as well. Honey didn't look any more likely than the boys to figure this out so Hermione explained.

"We're east of Scotland," she said. "Quite a bit east; about twenty degrees, or so. That means that this part of the world reaches sunrise, noon and sunset a little more than an hour before we do at Hogwarts. Most of Europe is one hour ahead of England so just add one hour to your watches and you'll have the local time." Everyone nodded in understanding. That didn't last long.

"So we basically lost an hour?" asked Honey.

"Yes," said Hermione. "It'll get dark an hour earlier than normal, by our watches."

"Jumper," said Harry, looking out the window and trying to ignore what would probably be a long conversation. "Why don't you go check out those foothills and look for that stream that Wormtail was talking about." He pointed off towards the northeast. A light drizzle was falling but nothing that would stop their intended expedition.

"Why are our watches off, then?" asked Honey.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper and went off in search of the stream.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione. "I just explained that."

"Ron," said Harry, walking over to join him.

"You said that we were an hour ahead since we traveled to the east," explained Honey.

"The paths are much rougher than I had expected," began Harry.

"That's right," said Hermione.

"I think the three of us will have to leave without you, at first," continued Harry.

"Our watches came with us," stated Honey.

"And then have one of the elves bring you up on your carpet when we're out of sight," finished Harry.

"That's also correct," said Hermione.

"Ah suppose," conceded Ron.

"How could we get an hour ahead while our watches didn't?" asked Honey, triumphantly. She thought she had found the gaping hole in Hermione's logic.

Harry said, "Let's go to your room. I'm starting to get a headache." Ron nodded and followed Harry out the door, leaving behind a confused Honey and an exasperated Hermione.

An hour later, Jumper popped into the room Ron and Harry had been using to escape their women. He approached Harry and said, "Jumper is thinking he is finding the stream that Harry Potter is being looking for."

"That's great, Jumper," said Harry. "Let's go see what we might find out before dark." This latter part was for Ron's benefit. The three of them, Jumper under the cloak, of course, returned to gather the girls. What they found both did, and yet didn't, surprise them.

"So the time is different everywhere," asked Honey, "but it doesn't affect watches?" She was holding two balls; one blue and small and the other larger and yellow.

"Close," said an increasingly impatient Hermione. She held a parchment that had two clocks drawn on it. They were animated and had the names 'England' and 'Italy' printed underneath them.

"Are you two ready?" asked Harry.

"Bloody well right, we are," said Hermione, throwing down the parchment and grabbing her jacket.

Honey looked at the two balls one last time and, with a shrug, placed them on the table and joined the Potters.

"We'll send Jumper back as soon as we get out of sight," said Harry. "Be sure to place a locking charm on the door. We don't need any of the staff wondering why your chair is here and you aren't."

Ron said, "No pwoblem," and waved them off.

They made their way outside without incident and proceeded out of town using the northeast road. The stream that it followed was moderately robust but nothing spectacular. Fairly quickly, they found themselves in the rugged and fairly desolate area on the outskirts of the vast volcano. The drizzle had abated but the air was still fairly chilly for this time of year.

"I think we're out of sight," said Harry, looking back. The women nodded. "Jumper. Please go and fetch Ron."

"Yes, Harry Potter," came the voice from nearby. They heard the pop as Jumper apparated to their rooms.

A few seconds later and Ron was reunited with Honey. It had only been a short separation but apparently it qualified for a kiss of greeting.

"Now that we're all here," said Harry, "let's take a look at this cave. Take us to the source of the spring, Jumper."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper. He gave brief instructions to Sleepy and with Jumper taking the Potters and Sleepy taking Ron and Honey, they popped off.

The spring was as described by Pettigrew. It seemed peaceful enough on the surface but the constant turbulent ripples let them know that the current was forceful. "I'll go first," said Harry. "It shouldn't be long and I'll apparate back. Wormtail said it's just a few feet to the cave."

"Be careful, dear," said Hermione, worriedly. "If you aren't back in one minute, I'm coming after you." She took off her jacket, shoes and watch in preparation.

Harry was pleased but didn't show it. The only reason he wouldn't be back in a minute would be if something very bad happened to him. Hermione felt as he did; they'd stick together, no matter what.

With a quick kiss, he slid into the water. It was cold. The current, though strong, didn't impede him to a great degree so he lit his wand, took a deep breath and ducked into the opening.

The tunnel was smooth from eons of erosion. Here and there he noticed the odd green growth of some sort of mold but he didn't have any problems propelling himself along. It seemed much further but, after about twelve feet, he was able to stand in a larger, much taller area inside the mountain. On the far side, he saw a ledge about two feet out of the water that led around to the dark, beyond. He made a mental note of that site and, from the water, he apparated back into the midst of his company.

Splash! Hermione had fallen into the water. In an instant, Sleepy had summoned her back. "Bloody hell!" she exclaimed as she brushed off some of the water.

"Why did you do that?" asked Honey. "Harry had some time left."

Hermione made a quite unladylike, and also fairly ungentlemanly, remark about a suggested activity that Honey might wish to pursue.

"Maybe later," said Honey, putting her arms around Ron.

Harry dried both himself and his wife. He then said, "It looks like there's plenty of room, at least at the start. I'll take Hermione and then Jumper and Sleepy can follow with Ron and Honey."

Before he could take her hand, Hermione said, "I'm sorry, Honey. I was looking into the water when Harry popped back. It startled me but I shouldn't take it out on you."

"Don't worry about it," said Honey. "I wouldn't have phrased it like that but it's an excellent suggestion." She looked down at Ron with loving, eager eyes and the two of them kissed, yet again.

"We could go on without you, if you'd like," said Harry. He waited for their choice.

"Oh, no," said Honey. "We're coming."

Ron didn't make up his mind quite so quickly but he let his future wife make this decision.

Without a word, Harry took Hermione's hand and popped back to the ledge he had seen earlier. A few seconds later, Ron, Honey and the two elves had joined them. Sleepy and Jumper were finally able to remove their invisibility cloaks.

Harry pointed towards the far wall and said, "The opening is over there. See the light? It wasn't that bad coming in. Going out should be easy, if it comes down to it."

"Why would we need to use that tunnel?" asked Honey.

"We've had to deal with apparition being cut off before, Honey," explained Harry. "If we're discovered, we might have to leave like muggles."

No one said anything but they took this reconnaissance mission a bit more seriously. This was a soul fragment of Voldemort they were searching for. It could be protected by anything.

Harry led the way. Hermione lit her wand to add to Harry's. They followed the ledge as it delved further into the cave. The stream on their right gave them a bit of comfort since it's constant babbling would cover their footsteps. They went by numerous stalagmites and stalactites before reaching a promising pair. These beauties rose a full eight feet from the floor and almost touched their brother stalactites hanging above them.

"These look about right," said Harry. "Stand back. If this works, a hole will appear."

"Hold on, Harry," said Hermione. "Won't the very act of opening up this hole cause who or whatever is guarding it to know we're here?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. It was Ron who spoke first, though. "Good point," he said. It turned out to be one of the phrases he could say without any errors.

"I agree," said Harry. "Just give me a moment." He thought about the warnings and options. He said, "Jumper. Slider. Please see if you can sense anything or anyone magical around here. I'll do the same." He remembered that he didn't lose the sense of nearby horcruxes as fast as he did living beings. With luck, they'd be able to pinpoint it's location and any traps or guards.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper and Sleepy together. They began to reach out with their magic as Harry did the same. He had a bit of trouble with this, at first, since he was surrounded by magical beings but he was able to isolate them. This one was Ron; that one was Honey; Hermione was over here. Sleepy and Jumper were different enough to be easy. He tried to spread his awareness further out but there was one other presence that was close, but faint. He moved around, trying to triangulate it's exact location. It was too hard with everyone else nearby.

"Could you all please stand over here for a moment," he said to his wife and friends. He pointed towards the far side of the stalagmites since the stranger was towards the entrance to the tunnel. They all moved and Harry started over. He concentrated, at first, in the original direction but the new life form wasn't there, anymore. Worried that they had been discovered, Harry cast about for the stranger. He found it, but it had moved. Now it was behind him. Frantically, he turned around and walked towards it.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"There's another presence; another life form nearby," he said. "Are you two picking it up?" he asked the elves.

"No, Harry Potter," said Jumper. He was able to more finely tune his searches and was able to easily block out their party. "Wait," he said. "There is being something but it is being far away." He pointed towards the center of the volcano.

"This is close," said Harry. He continued his scans, walking here and there, scattering the others in his search but having the elusive stranger move about at nearly impossible speeds. He finally had a thought and said, "Everyone stand still." He then stopped walking through them and instead walked around them. He eventually focused on Honey and smiled. "I think that Mrs. Weasley's going to be very happy."

"What do you... oh, my!" said Honey, shocked. She looked down at her stomach and asked, "I'm pregnant?"

"That, or you have a tapeworm," said Harry. He was pleased for his friends and, after they had time to adjust, they would be, too.

"Shesh pregand?" asked Ron, again.

"Well, I'm no doctor," said Harry, beaming, "but there's something in there and it's definitely alive and kicking."

"I can't feel anything," said Honey. She put her hands around her abdomen.

"It's just an expression, Honey," said Hermione, coming over and giving her a hug. "I'm happy for the both of you."

"Appy?" asked Ron. He hadn't had enough time to get to 'happy' just yet.

"Yes, Ron," said Harry. "If I were you, I'd be happy. In fact, I'd recommend it if you know what's good for you." He gave a meaningful glance towards Honey.

"I... I'm appy, I guess." He was shocked bug starting to come around to the new reality.

"Are you, Ron," said a tearful, yet hopeful, Honey. She put her arms around him and held on, looking deep into his eyes.

"Yes," said Ron, finally. "Awre you?" He looked back, just as intently.

"Of course," said Honey. They kissed deep and long.

After about two minutes, Hermione said, "You know, we're not going to be here all that long, today. Why don't we just check out this entrance and go back to our rooms. We'll decide if we need to do more reconnaissance tomorrow when we get there and you two'll be able to have a nice, long talk."

Honey and Ron didn't immediately release each other but both nodded. "Les get goin, ten," said Ron. He focused his attention back on the spot between the stalagmites.

Harry did, too. He did notice that Hermione and Honey were standing close to each other, exchanging excited glances. Both were ready to burst if they didn't finish the business at hand, and quickly.

Without preamble, Harry pulled out a short silver knife and cut his palm. He knelt next to one of the stalagmites and, using it for support, leant out and placed his hand on the cave floor. Instantly, a gaping four foot wide hole appeared. With half of his support suddenly removed, Harry almost fell in. His grip on the stalagmite was augmented by the additional grip of his best friend who was hovering nearby and Harry regained his balance.

"Thanks, Ron," said Harry and peered down into the dark. Chancing a quick look with his wand, he held it over the hole, but not too close. He didn't want to send too clear a warning to anyone. All they could see at this point was the bottom of the lower chamber. It appeared to be about ten feet lower than their current tunnel and just about the same width. If it wasn't off to the side, it would have been flooded by the stream.

"Anything, Jumper?" asked Harry. He didn't sense anything happening but he wasn't an elf, either.

"No, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "Nothing is being near. Jumper is still being knowing that there is being something that way." He pointed, again, towards the heart of the volcano.

"Okay," said Harry. "Let me know if it starts our way."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper.

"Do you think it's safe to go down there?" asked Honey.

"Safe is a funny word," said Hermione. "It's probably safe enough. Wormtail didn't have any trouble until he was at the next entrance. Still, we should be careful."

"I agree," said Harry. "We might set off something when we touch the floor."

"Then we shunnen tush the fwoor," said Ron, pulling up to the hole. "I wall go fuss." Without waiting for any objections, he lit his wand and lowered himself through the hole.

"Ron!" exclaimed Honey, reaching out for him. Hermione pulled her back.

"He'll be fine," said Hermione. "He's capable of taking care of himself." She knew that Ron had been having doubts about his usefulness since his injury and, although worried herself, she knew he needed to do this.

Ron lowered himself to mere inches above the floor and looked around. Nothing jumped out to kill him. That was good. He peered into the darkness, first to the south and then to the north. At first, he saw nothing unusual. After a few moments, he thought he could see a red glow, far off. He extinguished his wand and waited for his eyes to adjust. That was the plan, at least.

"RON!" shouted Honey, her own wand lit and in the hole in a heartbeat. "What happened?" She was ready to jump down herself but was held back by Hermione and Sleepy.

"Nothin happens," said Ron. "I jus wannen to see dow the tunnel. Sometin is gowin."

"What's going," asked Harry, misunderstanding.

"Not 'gowin'," said Ron, "I sais is gwowin." He had troubles with the 'gl' sound.

"What could be growing down there?" asked Hermione. "Mushrooms, I suppose."

"Not 'gwowing'," said an increasingly irritated Ron. "Is gwowin like youwa wans," he said, pointing at the tip of Harry's wand.

"Oh," said Harry, "something's glowing." He looked relieved. That was what they had been expecting; an entrance a ways off that was glowing from the lava. "Hold on, Ron," said Harry. "We'll be right down."

Harry used the same momentum reducing spell that Dumbledore had used so many years earlier and simply jumped down. It was only ten feet, after all. He had fallen that far many times without the help of magic. Didn't land on his feet, either. Harry and Ron then helped their ladies down. Honey had it the easiest; she simply climbed on behind Ron. Hermione, however, had to jump. Sleepy and Jumper just appeared before them.

Now that they were all grouped together, again, they started down the tunnel. "Everyone keep an eye out," whispered Harry, unnecessarily. "Try to be quiet but sing out if you see, hear or otherwise become aware of anything."

"What would we do without you?" asked Hermione.

"I was planning on closing my eyes and whistling," said Honey, "but I like your way, better." Ron laughed.

"Alright," said Harry, "it was obvious, but it's the sort of thing they say in the movies so I thought I'd better say it."

"I think I was happier before I heard your reasoning, dear," said Hermione.

Harry couldn't tell if she was kidding or not. He decided not to check. They walked in cautious silence for another hundred or so yards. Just as Harry started to get a familiar feeling, Jumper said, "Stop, Harry Potter. There is being a spell that is stopping us from popping."

Harry had felt it, too. It was definitely the goblin anti-apparition charm, once again. Voldemort was certainly getting his money's worth out of it. "Everyone, get back," he said, ushering them all towards the hole that they had dropped down. Surely, they had been detected. Within a few steps, though, he noticed that the charm was no longer active.

"Just a moment," he called. Turning, he went back down the tunnel, moving slowly. When he had reached the same point as before, he felt the presence of the ward, once again. It came up fairly quickly as he walked forward but it hadn't dropped down on him in response to his passing a hidden checkpoint. "It's alright", he called. "I think it's permanent." He looked down the tunnel towards the now much closer glowing chamber, listened and waited. Nothing else happened so he said, "Remember this spot. It's the farthest we need to go before we can escape by apparition."

"As long as another ward doesn't pop up, that is," said Hermione. She couldn't feel the wards like Harry and they were therefore more disturbing.

Harry nodded and led the way towards their goal. They could start to feel the heat. It wasn't yet painful but it was approaching uncomfortable. When they were ten feet from where the side chamber opened to the right, Harry again called a halt.

"Jumper. Where is that other presence that you felt?" Harry was unable to sense the hidden menace but his range was not quite a good as the elf's.

"It is being in that direction," said Jumper, pointing both down and slightly to the right. "Jumper is thinking that it is still being far away. Jumper is being guessing that it is being one thousand yards, perhaps. Jumper isn't being sure if this guess is being right, Harry Potter."

"That's fine, Jumper," said Harry. "That explains why I haven't picked up on it. Give me a minute and I'll see if I can find the horcrux." He sat down. His wife did likewise. Ron and Honey, of course, were already seated on their carpet.

Harry cleared his mind and concentrated. He wasn't sure if all horcruxes felt the same. He only had experience with the two since he had become able to sense their presence but they had seemed similar enough. He reached out for anything. The only problem with this sort of activity is that your imagination can play tricks on you. He was also a little disoriented by the proximity of the lava. It's radiant heat could be felt and it added to the sensations that were present. Slowly, he accounted for all of the other distractions and tried for the horcrux, itself. Nothing. He attempted to recall the exact feeling of evil he had felt when in the presence of the other horcruxes and left himself open to more of the same. Nothing. After five more minutes of futile variations, he gave up.

"We must not be close enough, yet," said Harry. "I'll bet that who or what Jumper is aware of is either the horcrux or is guarding it." He looked off in the general direction that Jumper had indicated and sighed.

"A thousand yards is a long way," noted Hermione. "When we get closer, I'm sure you'll have more luck."

"A thousand yards through a river of lava is a long way, period," said Harry. "Besides the fire golem, Wormtail didn't have a clue on what came after or even how far you had to go to get through."

"Well, let's take it one step at a time," suggested Hermione. "Let's have a look at the magma." She headed over to the side opening. Harry and the others followed.

"Goodness," said Honey. "That's hot!" True, it was an unnecessary statement, but, given the truth in it, the others didn't comment.

"Just a second," said Hermione. She conjured a large pane of glass and then cast a reflection charm on it. The heat faded quite a bit but the shimmer in the view through the glass left no doubt that it was still present. "This will only last a few minutes," explained Hermione. "Next time, we'll have to have a real sheet ready to summon. What can you see, Harry?"

Harry had walked up to the glass almost immediately. He tried to position both it and himself to get a good view into the chamber. What he saw wasn't encouraging. The first step was a doosey, as they say. In fact, there was no first step. The entrance was merely a hole looking into a large, eternally molten chamber of fire. The glow was mostly from the pool of magma approximately twenty feet below them. Sporadically falling in short bursts from the ceiling were bright yellow streams of liquid rock that hissed when they made contact with the slightly cooler pool beneath. Harry could see where this would be a problem. To compound their troubles, there was no clear indication on how to proceed if they were able to somehow survive in this inferno.

"I see what he meant," said Harry, referring to Wormtail's description of the problems involved in getting past this room. "Somehow, we'll have to stop those streams of lava from coming down and killing me."

"Magma," corrected Hermione. "It's not lava until it's on the surface."

"What?" asked Harry, distracted.

"Molten rock is called magma when it's underground and lava when it flows out," explained Hermione.

"Who cares?" asked Harry, coming around to the realization that he, at least, didn't.

"You asked," said a hurt Hermione.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, with contrition. 'That I asked,' he added to himself.

"I forgive you," said Hermione. "Now, as to how we keep that magma off your head, I'd have to say we need a heavy duty umbrella."

"Wormtail said he was supposed to freeze it, or something," said Harry.

"That's the hard way," said Hermione. "If you freeze the whole roof, you have to freeze it thick enough to hold back everything above it. That's nearly impossible and would take an incredible amount of magic to pull off. Perhaps Voldemort could do it. Maybe you could. The problem is you'd be in danger of a catastrophic failure at any time."

"And you think an umbrella would be safer?" asked Harry.

"A large one made out of steel or something," said Hermione. "If you had sufficient power holding it up with a steep slope to allow the magma to slide off quickly, it would never get hot enough to melt and it would keep you safe. You could ride a broom underneath it and go anywhere you want."

"I'd have to do something about the heat, too," said Harry. "I think that's a good idea. We'll send Sleepy or Jumper back to pick up some steel and see if we can maintain a levitation spell under some direct strikes, tomorrow. What do you think, Ron?" He turned back to get Ron's opinion but was met with the unexpected sight of Ron and Honey, holding each other tightly with Ron's hand on Honey's stomach. Both of them had a glow about them that had nothing to do with the proximity of the lava. Make that magma.

Harry looked back at Hermione and said, "I think we're done for today."

October 12, 1997

Early Afternoon

"We're not supposed to be on vacation," said Harry. He didn't open his eyes but he knew Hermione had her's shut, as well, so it didn't matter.

"I'm not on vacation," said Hermione, "I'm thinking about moving here permanently." She lay back in her deck chair, soaking up the glorious rays of a much warmer sun than existed in Northern Scotland this time of year. Yesterday's inclement weather had been blown out by a warm breeze from the south. She had transfigured her jeans and blouse into shorts and a halter top.

"Hermione, we have to figure out what went wrong with the umbrellas," said Harry. They had tried out levitating a steel roof through the magma chamber that morning with results that were disappointing, although revealing. The magma spurts were much more energetic than they looked and tended to capsize the steel more often than not.

"I'll tell you what's wrong with this umbrella," said Hermione, holding up her empty glass. "It doesn't have a drink underneath it. Marcello!"

Two waiters and an opportunistic guest rushed over. "Yes, ma'am?" they sang out in unison, jostling each other for a better position.

"My drink is empty, Marcello." Hermione held the tall glass towards the group who immediately tried to grab it from the others. The victor rushed off for the refill while the others grumbled a bit and waited for their next chance.

"Isn't it strange that so many of the waiters are called Marcello?" asked Honey, sipping her lemonade. She was never much for alcohol in the first place but her new passenger made her behave extra responsibly.

"I don't know if any of them are," stated Hermione. "All I know is they learned pretty quickly to answer to it." Ron laughed..

Just then 'Marcello' returned with Hermione's drink and she said, "Thanks, Marcello," while handing him one of the twenty pound notes. The rest of the stack lay on the table with a galleon holding it down.

"I don't think the rest of the crew would appreciate us enjoying ourselves quite this much," said Harry. His glass was also empty but he hadn't decided on his next round, yet.

"Then they don't have to know, do they," said Honey, clearly enjoying herself as much as Hermione.

"I guess not," said Harry. "I suppose we'll be able to blame the tans on the lava."

"Magma gives off heat but it's the sun's ultra violet radiation that does most of the tanning," corrected Hermione.

"Besides you," asked Harry, "exactly how many people at Hogwarts know that?"

"I don't know and I don't care," said Hermione. "Now, let me rest; we have to check out at four o'clock." She reached for a snack and noticed that the lemon wafers were gone. "Oh, Marcello!"

Author's Note: I just thought they deserved a cliff-hanger free ending to a chapter for a change.

Dad


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter 67 - One... two... three!

October 12th, 1997

About 4:30 P.M.

"Honey!" exclaimed Nesta when she opened her front door. "What a surprise." After the hug, she asked, "We weren't expecting you so soon." She backed up, inviting the young couples to enter.

"Funny you should say that," said Harry, before Hermione could elbow him.

"Say what?" asked Nesta. She looked back at her obviously nervous daughter as Luke joined them in the foyer.

"We, uh, have some, uh, news," said Honey. She glanced back and forth between her mother, her father and the future father of her children.

"Let me guess," said Nesta, sighing. "I'm going to be a grandmother."

"You're pretty good at ooph," said Harry, suffering his second jab in the ribs.

"I suppose I am," said Nesta. "I was thinking about warning you, after I met the rest of the Weasleys, but I didn't."

"Warning me about what?" asked Honey.

"The Weasley virility," said Hermione. "In case you hadn't noticed, it doesn't seem that they fire many blanks."

"Exactly," agreed Nesta, smiling. Luke wasn't smiling, but then again, he wasn't shouting, either.

Honey looked a little relieved that she wasn't being lashed about the head and shoulders by her mother's tongue. "I'm so glad you aren't yelling," she said. "I was afraid you'd be terribly ashamed of me. Daddy? Are you mad at me?" She looked at her father with her eyes almost shimmering from her imminent tears.

Luke didn't speak immediately but finally admitted, "I'm a bit disappointed. In the end, it's just the sequence that's out of order, I suppose. When do you plan on getting married?" He knew that it wouldn't be long.

"Within a week, we hope," said Honey. Ron nodded. "We don't want it to be too noticeable when our child is born."

"Oh, you know what they say about that," said Nesta. "The first child can come at any time but the second one takes nine months."

"Really?" asked Honey. "I didn't know that." She wasn't kidding.

Nesta gave her daughter a kiss and hug. "We'll always love you; no matter what. Isn't that right, Luke." She turned, as did her daughter, to face Luke.

"I don't believe that was ever in doubt," said Luke, also embracing his daughter. "It's just a father thing."

With that acceptance of reality, they all went into the back room for an hour or so to chat about the changes Honey could expect as she progressed in her pregnancy.

At six o'clock, Ron, Harry and Luke were roused out of their stupor. It was a common self-preservation technique common among males when bombarded by gibbering women endlessly discussing hormones, morning sickness, breast feeding and maternity clothing.

"We really have to go to see Ron's parents, now," said Honey. "I'll owl you when we've decided on when and where we're getting married." With a final hug for both of her parents, they left for the Burrow.

As usual, the chickens were scattered by the sudden appearance of four people in their yard. In truth, of course, there were six people present but the two guards remained under their invisibility cloaks; not to prevent their notice from Mrs. Weasley, but to prevent being seen in general. It was the mark of a good elf that they weren't noticed and the cloaks made that easy. Harry was closest so he led the way to the back door; knocking twice before entering.

"Hello, Mrs. oomph!" He was, once again, forgetful of just how fast the middle-aged, plump woman could move when she wanted to.

"Harry!" cried Molly, kissing him on the cheek before releasing her hug. "Ron!" She hugged him, as well and moved on to Hermione and, lastly, Honey.

"It's so good to see you all," she said, letting them in the kitchen. Arthur was also present but, with the exception of Errol, the owl, no other Weasleys were in attendance.

"Is ony beena wheeka, Mum," said Ron.

"Oh, Ron!" cried Molly, again giving him a hug. "You're talking much more clearly, now. That's just grand." She gazed upon her wounded son with new hopes of his recovery.

"Yes, isn't it," agreed Honey. She took her seat next to Ron.

Molly looked back at Honey at her comment. She seemed about to say something when she paused and examined Honey, very closely. After about ten seconds, she jumped to Honey's side and, putting a hand on her abdomen, exclaimed, "Arthur! We're going to be grandparents!" She gave Honey another hug and asked, excitedly, "When did it happen?"

"Mum!" shouted Ron as Honey turned beet red.

"I meant when did you find out?" said Molly, waving off their embarrassment.

"Oh," said Honey. "Just yesterday."

"So what took you so long to tell me?" said an increasingly ecstatic Molly. She put her hand back on Honey's stomach as if performing an ultrasound.

"We were in Sicily," explained Hermione. "We just left this afternoon."

"I see," said Molly. "Come, tell us all about your trip, then." She sat down in her own chair, at last, and proceeded to butter her bread, along with the top of her hand, as she waited for all of the details.

"Congratulations," said Arthur, now that he could get a word in.

"Thanks, Arthur," said Honey. "We can't quite believe it, ourselves, just yet."

"Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione. "I'd like to ask a quick question, if I could."

"Of course, dear," said Molly.

"Harry, using all of his powers, was only just able to detect Ron and Honey's child and then only after an extensive period of concentration. How is it that we walk in the door and no more than sit down before you know all about it?" Even Hermione couldn't figure this one out.

"It was simple," said Molly. "I'll be glad to tell you, but first you'll have to all promise to do me a favor."

They all looked at each other. Granting Molly Weasley a wish could very easily result in having a son named Thadeus, after her great aunt's father.

"I trust you, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "I'll pay the price for this information."

"Me, too," said Hermione. They both knew they didn't have too much to lose.

"I suppose that if we all have to do it, it won't be too bad," said Honey. Ron nodded, finally, and not without a bit of hesitation.

"Fine," said Molly. "The favor I want is for all of you, except you, Ron, to call me 'Molly' and Arthur 'Arthur'. I mean, Honey; you're marrying my son, for goodness sake."

"I suppose I could do that, Mrs., I mean, Molly." said Honey. "I thought you preferred it since Harry and Hermione always called you Mrs. Weasley, and all."

"I've already talked to Harry about that but I'm not waiting any longer," said Molly. "Now that that's settled, I'll tell you how I knew about my grandson."

"It might be a granddaughter," suggested Honey.

"Don't bet on it," said Arthur. "Ginny's the first female Weasley since the eighteen hundreds. Maybe before that; I'm not sure."

"Anyway", continued Molly, "I could tell because of Honey's hair. "I knew when I was expecting Bill because my hair turned Weasley red in about a week. Nine months later, Bill was born."

Everyone turned to look at Honey. It wasn't obvious, yet, but there were definitely a few strands of vivid red hair.

Honey pulled a fistful of her hair around to see for herself. "Oh, my," she said. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this?"

"Don't you like surprises?" asked Arthur. He laughed a bit before continuing, "I don't think anyone ever thinks of it. When you grow up with a redhead for a mother, you accept it as the way things are. Then the first grandchild gets planted and it reminds everyone. By the time the next generation is started, we've all forgotten about it again."

"You mean it's going to stay this way?" asked Honey, a bit slower than usual on the uptake.

"Mine never changed back," said Molly. "It never really bothered me, though. I thought it was a small price to pay for my children." She smiled lovingly at Ron. "Of course," she added, "I'd get rid of the freckles, if I could."

"Freckles?" asked Honey, panicking a bit. "You mean I'll get freckles, too?"

"Yes," said Arthur, peering at her, closely. "In fact..."

Honey screamed and ran for the bathroom mirror.

"She's taking it better than I did," said Molly, unconcerned.

At seven o'clock, after having come to the conclusion that they would have the wedding on Friday evening and it would be held in the Great Hall, for security purposes, the Potters and Weasleys, for Honey would soon enough be one legally as well as physically, left. They returned to the office of the Fortress of Solitude directly for probably the last time. Tomorrow, the goblin wards would be in place and even the elves would be forced to use their rings for transport.

Remus and Tonks were at their desks, working hard... on some fried chicken that they had apparently talked one of the elves into bringing.

"Here are the travelers," said Remus, jauntily. "You're a bit later than we expected. And a bit more tanned, as well."

"It's fairly sunny in Sicily," said Hermione. "We can't be held accountable for that."

"Of course not," said Tonks. "Although I believe you were going to be spending most of your time in caves."

"You've caught us," said Hermione, sarcastically. "We've done nothing but sit in lounge chairs, snapping our fingers and running waiters ragged catering to our every whim."

"Didn't mean to hit a nerve," apologized Tonks, not noticing that Honey was staring shocked at Hermione for pretty much admitting what they had been doing.

"That's okay," said Hermione. "Now, if you'll just let us sit down, we'll tell you how it went."

"Have a seat," said Tonks. "Do you want some of this chicken?" She held out a drumstick.

"We were just at the Burrow," said Harry.

"Oh," said Tonks, understanding that they wouldn't need any more food until morning. To be accurate, that didn't apply to them all. Ron reached over and grabbed a breast. A chicken breast. Get your mind out of the gutter.

"Well," began Hermione, and told them the tale from their arrival at the hotel to their unsuccessful attempts to maneuver a shield under the dripping magma. She didn't think it was necessary to include their afternoon of relaxation and indulgence in the warm Sicilian sun since she had already told them about it.

"Did you try a few leveling spells?" asked Remus.

"They're more for gradual shifts, like a boat on water," said Hermione. "To answer your question, though; yes, I did. The smaller globs weren't too bad but when a big one hit, nothing seemed to be able to hold up."

"Well," said Remus, "I'll try to come up with something this week. It's my time of the month and I'll have a few days to think."

"The full moon isn't until Thursday, is it?" asked Hermione. She looked at her watch.

"Thursday morning," said Remus. "I should start having some symptoms starting Wednesday afternoon and I probably won't be able to return until sometime Saturday morning. I need to set up my room for the change; food, water, you know, and Tonks needs to brew my Wolfsbane potion so we probably won't be around until next weekend."

"I forgot about that," said Honey. "We're planning on having our wedding this Friday." She looked at Ron, who was, after all, more closely linked to Remus and Tonks that she was and asked, "Do you think we should change it to Saturday? We haven't invited anyone, yet."

"Jus Mum an Dad," said Ron. "I don tink it would be a pwoblem."

"You're getting married this week?" asked Tonks. "What's the rush?" She figured it out a moment later.

"Well," said Honey, glowing with both embarrassment and anticipation, "we need to get married as soon as possible since I, er, we're..."

"Congratulations," said Remus. "I wish you both the best but you really don't have to change your schedule to accommodate my, ah, condition."

"It's really not a problem," said Honey. "We just decided on the date about an hour ago. Saturday would be just as good as Friday."

"Well, if you're sure it won't be an imposition," said Tonks. "Come on, Wolfie," she said to Remus, slapping his shoulder. "We need to get back to London and buy a wedding present. I also need a new dress. Shoes, too, I suppose. We also need to discuss curing your other condition."

"My other condition?" asked Remus, repetitiously.

"Yes," said Tonks. "It seems to be a case of chronic bachelorhood. If I'm not mistaken, we were the first couple to get engaged and very soon, we're going to be the last couple who's still engaged."

"We still have a few details to work out," said Remus. "I suppose if it'd appease you, we could chat a bit."

Tonks looked like she wanted more than a chat. Nevertheless, she merely waited for Remus to stand up to join her.

"I really will give that lava problem some thought," he promised. "It's got to be an airtight fix, though. I wouldn't want you to risk yourselves on something that's just mostly effective."

The eldest couple left the office to head for London, via the shrieking shack as a departure point. After they had left, Honey asked, "So how in the world do we explain rushing into a wedding so quickly without having everyone guess why?"

They all thought for a moment. Harry knew that it would embarrass Honey, and annoy Ron, for everyone to think that Honey was a 'scarlet woman', as his mother used to say. Of course, that fate awaited her, anyway. Even now, a noticeable portion of her golden tresses contained substantial amounts of crimson.

"I know," said Ron, suddenly. "Less preten at is been panned for weeks." At their blank stares, he added, "Jus talk like is a continuin conversasun and everyun will tink is not sudden."

"Oh, I get it," said Hermione. "We just pretend that we've been discussing the plans for a while and hope nobody compares notes. In a day or so, no one will think about the lack of previous talk. Brilliant."

"Brilliant?" asked Harry. "We're betting on the thickness of the entire student body." He sighed and said, "Unfortunately, that's our best chance. We'll have to inform Minerva, in any event. She might figure it out, anyway. She was teaching here long before Molly's hair turned so it might jog her memory when she sees Honey."

"Ron and I'll go talk to her tonight," said Honey. "Of course, that won't stop the rest of the staff and students from wondering why my hair is suddenly changing color."

"Yes," mused Hermione. "What to do about Honey's hair." She examined Honey. "If we change the red hair back to that annoying, lustrous, shimmering spun gold that we've come to expect, the rest of it will just change to red and we're back to square one."

"It might not take, anyway," said Honey. "It's a magical change and normal transfigurations might not work.

"Embrace your hair," said Dumbledore, surprising them all. The teens remained silent and, apparently, confused. Honey pulled around a handful of hair and looked, quite definitely, confused.

Grampa leaned forward in his frame and explained, "Just do the same thing you were planning to do about explaining your wedding. Act like you want your hair to change to red. Imply that you're the one making the change, in honor of your becoming a Weasley." He waited for Hermione, at least, to catch on.

"That sounds reasonable," said Honey. "It's a transfiguration so that would fit. I like it." She smiled at Grampa.

"Thassa good idea, Gampa," agreed Ron. "The mow weah open aboud dis, the betta."

"Fine," said Hermione. "Well, unless there's something else, I need to check the library before it closes. Maybe I can find something on rapid stabilization spells." She got up.

"The library's already closed," stated Honey, looking at her watch.

"It's open until eight o'clock," refuted Hermione, checking her own watch. "It's only a quarter past seven."

"No," argued Honey. "Don't you remember? We lost an hour when we went to Sicily?""Don't start with me, woman," huffed Hermione, pulling her wand before storming out of the office.

October 13th, 1997

The next morning, Ron and Honey mentioned cryptically that McGonagall had figured out the same thing that Molly had, using the same technique. She had, at least, not made a fuss about their using the Great Hall for their wedding; provided, of course, that she received an invitation.

"I wonder if Aunt Petunia has any flowers in bloom, yet," wondered Hermione. "That would add a touch of elegance to the place."

"I have no idea," said Harry. "For all I know, it takes months for a flower to grow."

"It depends on the type," said Honey. "I doubt that anything she has is very much past germination, though. Don't worry about that, anyway. Dad will be bringing the flowers, of course. He usually has something that's blooming."

"What are you all on about?" asked Dougal, catching a bit of the conversation.

"The flowers," said Hermione, testing their new theory. "For the wedding." She said this last bit as if Dougal was a bit slow for not figuring it all out.

"Who's getting married?" asked Dougal. This also brought Luna into focus, a bit.

"Ron and Honey," said Harry, imitating Hermione's exasperation. "Blimey, don't you remember they're engagement was part of the celebration at the party?"

"I knew they were engaged," said Dougal, "but I didn't know they were getting married so soon."

Luna glanced at Honey and said, "I don't think they knew it, either." Then, to Honey and Ron, but especially to Honey, "Congratulations; on everything." She winked at them but said no more.

"Bloody hell," said Honey. "I might as well stand on my chair and shout it out."

"Luna can keep a secret," said Harry.

"What secret?" asked Ginny. She, like the other nearby diners, had their own conversations to deal with but had picked up a word or two.

"Is natta seecket," said Ron. "We's just tawkin about owra weddin."

"Oh," said Ginny. "No, that isn't a secret. So what was Honey talking about?"

"Who knows?" said Hermione. "We were just discussing flowers for the ceremony."

"Well," said Ginny, thinking, "you'll want to match her eyes, of course." She looked closely at Honey to determine the exact shade of blue in her eyes but was distracted by something else. "What in the world have you done to your hair?"

This last comment was loud enough to attract more attention than any of them wanted. It was time to throw the dice and hope for the best.

"I'm changing it red," said Honey. "It'll get a little more red each day until the wedding."

"I thought it was a brilliant idea," said Hermione. "She'll look just like a Weasley, at the end."

"Won't that be nice," said Ginny. "So, have you picked a date, yet?"

"Saturday," said Honey.

Saturday?!" shouted Ginny. "You're getting married Saturday? 'This' Saturday?" It turned out that they wouldn't have to post a notice, after all. Everyone was now fully aware of the upcoming nuptials.

"Yes," answered Honey. "What's wrong with that?"

"It's just a bit sudden," said Ginny. "Of course, the company you keep might have affected you." She cast meaningful looks at both Harry and Hermione.

"We didn't have anything to do with it," said Harry. "They've already waited longer than I would have guessed. When you're in love as much as Ron and Honey, a moment seems like an eternity. Believe me; I know. Sometimes it seems like Hermione and I've been married forever."

"I'll assume you meant that in a nice way," said Hermione. "As to Ron and Honey, I wish them the best."

"Well, I do, too," said Ginny. "It's just..." What it just was would have to wait. The morning owls arrived. As usual, Hermione grabbed the Daily Prophet and drifted off into oblivion. Harry had started to thumb through the rest of their mail when a familiarly shaped and colored envelope caught his eye.

"What now?" he asked as he glanced at the return address; The Department for the Regulation of Magical Transformations.

"What what?" asked Hermione, subsequently ignoring the looks and sub-audible comments in favor of hearing the answer.

Harry glanced through the letter and said, "The Ministry has discovered that I'm an animangus."

"What tipped them off?" asked Ginny. "The posters, the newspaper articles or giving the Minister of Magic and his granddaughter rides?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "They just want me to report for a hearing at one o'clock, tomorrow afternoon."

"At least you won't have to miss the whole day," offered Honey.

"It's also more serious, this time," said Hermione. "Performing the Animangus Transformation without Ministry supervision, instruction and permission is punishable by up to two years in Azkaban."

"I remember," said Harry. "You used that knowledge to blackmail Rita." He thought a moment longer and mused, "I wonder what the penalty is for blackmail."

"I'd be wondering how you're going to explain yourself, if I were you," suggested Dougal. "Voldemort isn't above letting the Ministry put you away, if that's the best he can do. You'd be out of his hair, at least."

"He didn't have any hair, the last time I saw him," said Harry.

"It's just an expression," said Dougal.

"I hate this," said Hermione.

"Why do you hate it?" asked Harry. "I'm the one who's facing Azkaban."

"Like you couldn't commute from there, if you wanted to," responded Hermione. "I'm not worried about your being sent to prison. I'm going to miss class, today, since I have to research the law.""Maybe Harry could plead guilty," suggested Ginny. "Then, you'd be able to make double Potions."

"If I had double Potions," said Hermione, "I'd probably take your advice." She slumped down on her bench, a bit, but managed a quick wink at a momentarily shocked Harry. "Oh, well. No class today, I guess. Ron; Harry; your dreams have come true. While I'm checking on the legal aspects of that letter, you two had better arrange your security. Our usual consultant is busy this week, as is his girlfriend. You might have to go to headquarters and see who's about and arrange something with the Order."

"What should I do?" asked Honey. She had liked being involved on their trip and wanted to continue.

"I believe that you have classes to teach, Professor," said Luna. It was bad enough to be reminded of something so obvious. Having Luna do so made it worse.

Honey faltered for a moment, seeking a way out before inspiration struck. "I meant after classes," she said, valiantly trying to give the impression that that was her intention in the first place.

"We'll see how things go, today," said Harry, "and have a quick meeting to see where we are. Let's say at five in our office. That will still leave us almost twenty-four hours before the meeting."

Everyone agreed and, after showing the letter to McGonagall and giving her a brief rundown on their proposed activities and schedule, they broke up to perform their tasks.

A short time later, Harry, Ron and Slider were conversing with Mad-eye and Kingsley Shacklebolt at Harry's house in London. The current topics of discussion were the reasons and motives behind this latest summons to the Ministry.

"We feel that it's possible that the reason a real attack wasn't attempted last week was because Mad-eye was able to conclude our business with Hopkirk quicker than expected or planned. If I hadn't run into Mrs. Malfoy, nothing at all would have happened." After Harry said this, he added. "Besides the fact that it failed, the entire exercise was such an obvious trap that I'm shocked they would have the nerve to try the exact same thing again."

"They must know that we know it's a trap," said Kingsley. "Maybe they're seeing how we'd react."

"That's true," agreed Mad-eye. "We went with maximum security, last time. If we do the same tomorrow, they could spot our weak points and exploit them."

"We know day will be ooshing Harry's abildidy to sense dem," said Ron. "How can dat be an advantash?"

"I'd guess some sort of a diversion to lure you into a building or other location where other, undetectable Death Eaters could flank you," offered Mad-eye. "But if they know we'll be following you anyway, they'd know that we would be able to attack the attackers." He thought a moment more before adding, "I just don't see how anything is going to work when we'll all be right there with Harry."

"Maybe that's part of the plan," suggested Harry. "They'll know where a large part of our side will be. They'll know when and for approximately how long, as well. If they wanted to do something; maybe an attack, maybe something else; in a different location, that would be their best opportunity."

"Perhaps Harry Potter and his friends would like for most of the Hogwarts Free Elves to be waiting in the map room with Mistress Martha and only be coming if summoned," suggested Slider.

"With just you and Jumper under the cloaks?" asked Harry. "That would allow a better response to other known locations, I suppose." He leaned back to consider the idea. What he didn't consider was that a house elf had just spoken to him without being spoken to, first. He had also offered a tactical suggestion.

"I think that's a fair plan," said Shacklebolt. "We'll let the order and two elves provide the muscle for you and hold the rest in reserve. I think it's likely that Mad-eye's right and they're just checking out our tactics or drawing us away from other locations. Maybe both."

"The other side of this is the hearing itself," said Harry. "This isn't like last time. This is a serious offense and I could be sent to Azkaban if it goes to trial. Hermione's checking out the legal aspects of the law but you are both aurors and I'd like your opinions."

"I don't think you'll be sent to Azkaban, Harry," said Kingsley. "For one thing, it wouldn't do any good, if what I hear about your abilities is correct. It would also inflame the public against the Ministry."

"That would be a good reason for Voldemort to try," said Mad-eye. "Even a trial would have a good effect from his point of view. In times such as these, destabilizing the government works to his advantage."

"So whad do we know?" asked Ron. "Is like he's jus doin dis to annoy Harry."

"About all we can do is play along, for now," said Shacklebolt. "Harry can't ignore this hearing. The supposed crime is too severe to bull your way out, like last time. If it all starts going bad, the Minister could intervene but that would cost a lot of political capital."

"That would be a possibility for a last resort," agreed Harry. "I wouldn't want Rufus to take any actions if he didn't have to. It might confuse the Prophet, though. They think he's out to get me. What would they say if he saves my butt?"

They all laughed. Before anyone could comment further, the fireplace blazed and out stepped Remus, followed closely by Tonks. They both carried assorted boxes. Harry noticed at least three shoe boxes along with what looked like a hat box.

"It's a wedding, Tonks," said Harry, "not a world tour." She stuck out her tongue but then smiled brilliantly as she struggled to keep from dropping her boxes.

"Good morning, Harry; Ron," said Remus. "This is just a start, I'm afraid. I'm sure that when she's rid of me for a few days, there will much more extensive trips to the shops. Now, I must say that I'm a bit surprised to see you, and on a school day." He also had quite a stack but, unlike Tonks, had managed to set them on the floor without a major mishap.

"I received another letter from our friends at the Ministry," replied Harry. "Another hearing set for tomorrow afternoon. It seems I'm an animangus and that's suddenly against the law, or something." He affected an aggrieved pose.

"So what cave dweller didn't already know that?" asked Tonks, setting her boxes on a convenient table.

"Everyone knows it," said Kingsley. "We know who's behind these hearings, as well, but we can't figure out what purpose is being served."

"How are you planning on responding to all of this?" asked Remus. He took a seat while Tonks summoned Slinky and asked her to put the boxes in her and Remus' room.

"Same as last time," said Harry. "Slider and Jumper will be with me, under the cloaks. Say, that reminds me." He addressed Mad-eye. "We think one of the extra cloaks is yours. The Minister said it was taken a couple of years ago and Umbridge had lifted it from the Ministry."

"I figured as much," said Mad-eye. "When I heard about her capture and the circumstances, I assumed that was where she was able to obtain one. You can use it, for now. I have my good one, yet, and you're putting it to good use. When everything's said and done, though, I'll want it back."

"Thanks, Mad-eye," said Harry. "With two invisible elves with me, Voldemort could bust into the room and he'd have his hands full." None of the other wizards or witch were as familiar as Harry and Ron with the abilities of their commandos. Slider, however, nodded his head in agreement.

"Anyway," continued Harry, "I'll have Slider and Jumper. The Order will be hidden throughout the area and the rest of Slider's crew will be with Martha in the map room, monitoring the rest of England, just in case another area is the real target."

"I'll probably be able to be there, too," said Remus. "I won't be having any problems until Wednesday."

"Thanks, Remus," said Harry. "I always feel better when you're around. No offense to the rest of you, of course." He looked around quickly to make sure that none of the others were upset by his comment.

"Of course not, Harry," said Tonks. "You don't mind if the rest of us are there, anyway, do you?"

"I suppose not," said Harry. "Just in case. Now, let's not assume it will be just like the last time. There might be an attack; either against me or some other location. One purpose of these annoyances might just be to lull us to sleep if they all end up dry. We can't let that happen."

"Sounds like we should exercise constant vigilance, eh?" asked Mad-eye.

"Always," said Harry.

"Now," said Shacklebolt, "even thought the Death Eaters will know that we'll be in the crowds, we don't have to make it easy for them. If we all show up at twelve-thirty, they'll be able to pick us out with no problems. I think that nine o'clock should be suitable for the first wave to arrive with a few more every ten to fifteen minutes."

"I'd like to be in the first group," offered Tonks. "I have to pick up the ingredients for the Wolfsbane potion, anyway."

"Thas good," said Ron. "Even da early arrifals shouldn' be just millin awound."

"I'll pass that on," said Mad-eye. "We'll all shop our way around Diagon Alley and the aurors in our group should be able to arrange to have business at the Ministry."

"Fine," said Harry. "I suppose we'd better get back and see what Hermione's found out, on the legal front."

"Are you sure you don't want the help of a solicitor?" asked Shacklebolt. "They'd probably know a lot that Hermione doesn't."

The silence was instantaneous and total. After five seconds, Remus said, "You must not know Hermione very well."

Later that evening, Harry and Hermione were in their suite, discussing quite a different matter. He had thought of the idea during his trip to London but, considering the possibility of raising false hope, he restrained himself until it was just the two of them. Their meeting with the Hogwarts party had gone smoothly with everyone agreeing that all reasonable security measures had been taken. Ron would remain with the elves and lead any mission to other destinations, if required. Now, however, Harry was trying to convince his wife to allow him to try something that was potentially more dangerous than a dozen Death Eaters.

"It's not your safety that concerns me," said Hermione. "It's Remus'. You saw what happened to your uncle. Cleaning out the cholesterol in his blood was very hard on his body. What do you think would happen if lycanthropic cells were attacked?"

"I think they might be destroyed," said Harry. "I just think we should ask him if he wants to try it."

"You were talking before about false hope," shot back Hermione. "What if it didn't work?"

"What if it did?" snapped Harry. "Hermione, this is one area that I might have more insight than you. When I was growing up with the Dursleys, if someone offered me the chance to be free of them but also said I might die in the attempt, I would have jumped at the chance. Remus has been cursed since he was six years old. This is a chance that he might want to take."

Hermione didn't know what to say. Harry seemed so sure of this and she, if she was honest with herself, wasn't. She thought through the arguments presented by her husband and finally came to the only conclusion that she could accept.

"Remus is old enough to make this decision for himself, I guess," she said, still a bit annoyed. "The next time we see him, we can bring up the subject."

"No, Hermione," said Harry. "Tonight. I'll go see him tonight."

"What's the hurry?" asked Hermione, in total exasperation. "He's been a werewolf for decades. What makes you think you have to try to cure him tonight?"

"He'll change in two days," explained Harry. "If something delays us tomorrow, he'd have to go through one more change than was necessary."

"Again, I ask," asked Hermione, "what difference does it make? He's made hundreds of changes. Why is this one different?"

"Because I know how to stop it, now," said Harry. "He hates changing. Haven't you noticed that, to this day, he still hasn't confronted Greyback? After over thirty years, he's still furious at what he did to him. If I let him spend one more night when I can help him, well, it would just be wrong."

"Fine," she snapped, dismissively. Then, softening up a bit, she added, "I think you're right; I just don't understand. That doesn't mean you're wrong, though." She stood up and, after giving him a kiss, asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," said Harry. At her hurt and surprised look, he added, "I need you to go tell Madam Pomfrey to expect company."

At nine o'clock, Harry, Hermione, Remus and Tonks waited in the ward area of the hospital wing. All waited for Pomfrey to return so they could try a great experiment. All also wore expressions revealing their feelings on the subject. Hermione was skeptical; Harry was joyous; Remus was impatient. Harry had been right about that. Once assured that the blood transfer would only be one-way, he practically dragged Harry back to Hogwarts so that their attempt could be supervised by the ever discrete Madam Pomfrey. It was Tonks, of all of them, that didn't know what to think. She had fallen in love with a werewolf, after all. Her betrothed didn't even ask her opinion. That hurt, a bit, but his excitement won her over to letting him attempt to cure his lifelong curse. If she felt different about him later, so be it.

Finally, Poppy returned from her office with a few potions that she thought might be useful. "I think I have everything I need," she said. "This will either work, or it won't. I would caution you, Remus, to remember that many great witches and wizards have attempted to cure lycanthropy. None have succeeded."

"I understand," said Remus. "All I ask for is a chance. If it fails, it fails." He then turned to Harry and said, "Harry. If something should happen..."

"Nothing is going to happen," said Harry, "except you might be cured."

"I hope that's the case," said Remus, "but I want you to know that if something else happens, something that results in my death or incapacitation, remember that I freely took this chance."

Harry said nothing but Hermione came to the conclusion that Harry was right, after all. She had to remember to write this date down on the calendar.

"I'll start with just a teaspoon of blood," said Pomfrey. "Mr. Dursley's reaction was quite severe and his illness was mild, compared to yours. Now, if you'll both extend these arms." She indicated Harry's right arm and Remus' left. She placed her wand on their wrists; the hilt on Harry and the tip on Remus. With her finger resting on the middle, she uttered the spell of transfer.

Instantly, Remus fell in convulsions. His face turned alternately from crimson to pearl white. He hit the floor just after Poppy's wand. She snatched it up and began her examination. "Something's happening," she said, needlessly. "Just like Dursley. Pulse is all over the place. Blood pressure, too. The lycanthropic blood cells are putting up a fight. So is Harry's blood. Some sections of his blood stream are clear, at times. Hmm." She continued her wand work until Remus was able to control himself.

When he deemed the battle over, he rose, exhausted, and asked, "So what's the verdict?"

Poppy waved her wand over her patient one last time and said, frowning, "I'm sorry, Remus. It wasn't enough."

Remus, sweating profusely, held out his arm and said, "Let's try it with more blood." He looked at Harry; waiting.

Harry slowly held up his arm and Poppy prepared to place her wand on their wrists, again. Before she transferred the blood, though, he said, "Wait. This isn't going to work."

"We have to try," begged Remus. "It almost worked. I could feel it. Please, Harry."

"We'll try, again," said Harry, "but we need to make one change." He faced Remus and held out both of his arms. "Hermione?" he asked. "Could you help us out, here?"

"What do you, oh, no you don't!" she snapped. "What's the matter with you?"

"I have to agree," said Remus, realizing that Harry wanted to attempt a full transfusion. "It's too dangerous for you."

"It will work," said Harry, sternly. "I know it will work. This is the way it must happen. Without a direct connection to me, the werewolf blood is too strong. I can cure it, though, if it flows through my veins. I'm absolutely sure of it." He looked sure.

Perhaps it was the Fawkes in his voice. Maybe the look in his eye, but suddenly and without reservation, Hermione believed. Harry wanted to do this for his father's last friend. If she stopped him now, they would never try again, she knew. Just as surely, he would blame himself, and to some extent, her, every full moon until the day they died. She held out her wand.

With a smile, Harry raised his arms, once more. He then turned to Lupin who still was hesitant. "Come now, Remus," said Harry. "It'll only hurt for a minute."

Slowly, and without a word, Remus raised his arms next to Harry's. Hermione placed her wand with the tip on Remus and Poppy placed hers with the tip on Harry. She then said, "To make it a continual flow, the spell is Pan Plasma Continum. On the count of three, then. One... Two... Three!"

Author's note: Holy cliffhanger, Batman. Could there be more twists in these plots?

Dad


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68 - The Special Witness

October 13th, 1997

Time came to a stop. Well, almost. Harry could feel the blood flow from Remus into his arm but it was definitely much slower than regular time. He felt it surging up towards his heart. His knees were the first part of his body to be automatically shut down as unnecessary, followed shortly by his sight and hearing. Nothing mattered at this point but the contaminated blood attempting to take over his body and spirit. As it approached the shoulder, he had a choice to make and he made it. Concentrating all of his magical power and summoning the essence of Fawkes, as well, he put up a firewall at his neck. His brain, and more importantly, his mind, would remain safe at all costs. His own blood was doing a fair job at countering the lycanthropic cells pouring through his veins but by the time his knees actually hit the floor, he had lost his heart. With the main pumping station at its disposal, the werewolf tainted blood quickly reached every corner of his body. Every corner except his head, that is. As if passing through a magical filter, he sensed the elimination of the toxins before his brain was nourished with the oxygenated blood from Remus' lungs.

Slowly, and not without a great effort of will, he expanded his awareness outward. He maintained the protection he had already set up but also began to retake his body. Like a general surveying his battlefield, he examined the flow of blood throughout his body and prepared his plan. The first two locations that he wanted to establish as werewolf free were his wrists. His dual objectives; cure Remus and save himself, required that no more bad blood could be allowed to enter either of their bodies. He stuck with what made sense to him. From the stronghold of his neck, he sent his soldiers down either arm until they could establish bulwarks in those extremities. After what seemed like an eternity, he had achieved his first goal.

Next, he expanded his zone of protection downward until it encompassed his entire neck and shoulders. With a last sortie to ferret out any residual danger lingering in his arms, he moved down into his chest. It was becoming easier, now. The natural abilities of his blood had already taken their toll and his enhanced magical abilities were becoming easier to marshal. Within a few more minutes, he had cleared his body and proceeded to Remus.

Remus, up until now, had reacted as before. He fell with Harry and had been consumed by the blood battle that was waging in his body. This one lasted much longer, of course, due to the prolonged transfusion of Harry's Fawkes enhanced blood. He was unable to break the link with Harry. That would only be done when Hermione and Poppy cast the end of the spell. They had not done so purely due to their knowledge of Harry's resolve and confidence in his abilities. Not until he was finished or unconscious would this experiment end.

As Harry regained control of himself, Remus fell further into exhaustion and delirium. He began to sweat profusely. "Oh," he said weakly. "Oh, my." He then closed his eyes, leaning back into the worried arms of Tonks and seemed to become almost, but not quite, unconscious. Tonks and Hermione worriedly glanced at each other, both very concerned with the health of their men. There was no help for it, though, and two minutes passed with no further development until Harry finally opened his eyes and, looking at Remus, smiled. Remus also regained consciousness around this time but he looked weak, instead of happy.

Harry, after a moment longer, asked Poppy, "Is he free?"

Poppy was somewhat dazed after viewing this episode and didn't respond immediately. With another word from Harry she came around and told Hermione how to end the spell. Again, it was done on the count of three. Harry stood up, mostly recovered from his ordeal and, holding out his hand, helped a substantially weaker Remus to his feet. Poppy then waved her wand over the two wizards. "Harry is clear," she said, checking her results. She then moved on to Remus. "Remus is weak; anemic, in fact. His blood contains an excessive proportion of white cells and there seems to be almost no iron. I'll have to give you a supplement immediately." She moved towards her office.

"What about my lycanthropy?" shouted Remus, hoarsely, unable to restrain himself.

"Oh, that," said Poppy, smiling. "You're cured." She continued into her office as Remus dropped his butt on the floor where he had stood and immediately started to silently cry. He had his whole life, since the age of six, pass before him as the ramifications of Poppy's words shocked his system. Not since he was eleven had he allowed himself to shed tears over his condition. He was a werewolf and would remain one until the day he died. There was no cure. There was no hope. Until the Wolfsbane potion had come along, there had been no relief, either. He had made most of the decisions concerning the course his life would take based on his condition. The one exception to that rule was allowing himself to fall in love with Tonks. Now, everything was different. He had no idea how his life would change since he had never allowed himself the indulgence of that sort of daydream. His tears swept his former self away and he was reborn; a true human, a man, once again.

Poppy returned and gave Remus a reddish potion and said, "Here, drink this. It'll help restore some of your energy.

"Thanks," said Remus, downing the potion. He felt a bit of relief within just a few seconds and stood. He turned to Harry and gave him a very emotional hug. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you. You have... you can't understand... I just... Thank you." He hugged Harry one more time before doing the same to Tonks.

"I'm so happy for you," said Tonks, adding a kiss to the hug. "You'll go down in the books, for this; the first cured werewolf." She smiled up at him as they exchanged another kiss.

"There'll be books written about this, that's for certain," said Poppy. "The aftereffects are what I'm the most worried about. The potion helped but you'll need to take some vitamins for awhile. I have some good muggle ones you can take, for now." She handed the bottle to Tonks.

"How often should he take these?" she asked before looking at the label. "Oh, never mind. It says right here." She pocketed the pills.

Remus, still beaming, took a seat on a nearby bed. "I'm sorry, everyone," he said. "I should go out and celebrate but I'm just exhausted." He looked at the bed, apparently deciding whether or not to lie down right here.

"You need some rest. Why don't you take the spare flat?" asked Hermione. "By morning, you'll feel much better, I'm sure." She smiled warmly at both Remus and Tonks.

"That's a good idea, Remus," agreed Harry. "You can sleep in and let the elves pamper you a bit."

"That sounds fine," said a groggy Remus. "I'm still going to Diagon Alley to be on guard for your hearing." He didn't have the strength to sound adamant about it but Harry assumed that part.

"Winky," said Harry.

"Yes, Master," said Winky. "What can Winky be doing for Master?"

"Please take Remus and," said Harry.

"Hold it," interrupted Hermione. "We're goblin warded, now. We can only apparate in from our specifically prepared locations or portkey in from the icons." She pointed at the crossed wands over Poppy's doorway that served as her link to the fortress. "Never mind, Winky. Harry and I will escort Remus and Tonks to the spare flat. Could you arrange for some sandwiches and juice to be sent?"

"Yes, Mistress," answered Winky and she popped off to the Hogwarts kitchens.

"I forgot about the goblins," admitted Harry. Then, to Hermione, he said, "Well, let's get these two tucked in."

"I want to see you first thing in the morning," ordered Poppy to Remus. "You may just feel tired but your condition could turn serious. You're no longer a werewolf but you're not out of the woods, yet." She chuckled a bit as she said this.

"I know," said Remus, just a bit confused at her laughter. "I'll be here." Poppy waited a moment before returning, slightly dejectedly, to her office, muttering something about 'no sense of humor'.

Later that night...

"What do you think?" It was a simple question.

"About what?" Another simple question.

"The bloody Chumley Cannons. What do you think I'm talking about?" Hermione, as usual, was annoyed by Harry's inability, at times, to grasp the obvious.

"I don't know, Hermione. We have a lot going on, right now." Harry, as usual, was a little miffed at Hermione's expectations of omniscience.

Sigh. "I suppose so, Harry. I'm worried about Remus. He's really a lot worse off than he knows, you know."

"He's just tired." A good night's sleep and..."

"He needs more than a night's sleep, Harry," interrupted Hermione. "Iron deficiency at the level that Madam Pomfrey indicated can lead to all sorts of problems. He had better listen to her and take care of himself for a few days. Iron is important for proper blood health. He'd be better off staying in bed or at least resting for a while than running off to London." She thought a bit more and added, "I wonder why he has that side effect, anyway? How is iron in the blood connected to being a werewolf?" Hermione thought about that and said, "Maybe it's related to the reason werewolves still change with the moon, even when they can't see it. The iron in their blood might be reacting with the iron in the moon to somehow set off the change. Magnetism could be involved. But the moon has much less iron than Earth so that might not be it." She apparently forgot her original concerns and reached for her bookcase.

"Hermione?" asked Harry. "I thought you wanted to talk about the Chuddley Cannons."

"What?" asked Hermione. She had definitely lost track of this conversation.

"You were worried that Remus might not be up to the trip, tomorrow," reminded Harry.

"Oh, that's right," said Hermione. "At the risk of sounding callus, it would probably be better all around if he stayed home. If he should need to leave, Tonks would probably go with him and we'd be down two people, instead of just one."

Harry considered this and agreed. "You're right, of course. I'll suggest it to him in the morning. Speaking of the hearing, did you come up with something clever, yet?"

"No," said Hermione. She then began to thumb through her books, looking for any sort of treatise on the effect blood plays with lycanthropy besides the obvious one.

"It's a little late to start researching it now, isn't it?" asked Harry.

"Probably," said Hermione. "I'm looking up something else, anyway."

"I'm glad that you aren't working yourself up over this," said Harry. "Will you come and visit me in Azkaban?"

"Every Saturday," said Hermione, finally looking up from her books and smiling. "You don't really think I haven't got everything under control, do you?"

"I'm never too sure if I haven't crossed the line, one time too many with you," answered Harry. "Someday, you'll have had enough and frame me for a crime so well that even I'll believe I did it."

"Probably," agreed Hermione, "but not tomorrow. A special witness has come forward to testify on your behalf. He should be able to handle this hearing. Don't worry."

"A special witness?" asked Harry. "Who?"

"That's a surprise," said Hermione. "For now, it's bed time." She walked towards their bedroom, and with a look that made him forget all about the hearing, walked through the doorway.

October 14th, 1997

At the Ministry

Harry and Hermione sat in the antechamber connecting the three hearing rooms for the Department for the Regulation of Magic, the branch of the Wizengamut with departments that oversaw, among other things, illegal transformations. Harry would be entering Hearing Room One in just a bit. Two other wizards, their crimes unknown to Harry or Hermione, sat nearby, awaiting their turn in one of the other rooms. Due to the seriousness of his crime, Harry was flanked by two aurors; Kingsley Shacklebolt and Jack Dawlish. Shacklebolt was, of course, on his side. Harry wasn't too concerned about Dawlish, either, since he was a good friend of Rufus. They shouldn't have too much trouble with him. Standing nearby under their invisibility cloaks, were Strider and Jumper. Tonks was just a few dozen yards away, ostensibly checking on some information in the legal library down the hall. Remus had agreed, remarkably easily now that he thought of it, to remain in the underground flat. He said he had a bit of trouble at first but eventually managed a good nights sleep. Tonks grumbled a bit at the comments but didn't elaborate. In any event, Harry wasn't too concerned about the possibility of sleeping in a cell that night. All in all, and despite the inconvenience of the security guard currently possessing his wand, Harry didn't have much doubt that he could, if he needed to, leave the building anytime he wished.

At precisely one o'clock, the great doors opened and an attendant beckoned for Harry and his party to enter. "Well," said Harry, "here goes nothing." He stood up and held out his hand to Hermione. Together, they approached the huge and intricately carved doors.

"Sorry, Mr. Potter," said the wizard holding the door, "but friends and relatives aren't allowed." He nodded towards Hermione.

Not take Hermione? Harry could almost taste the crust of stale bread and bit of cheese that would undoubtably make up the bulk of his meal that night, in prison.

"I most assuredly will be joining Harry during this meeting," said Hermione, forcefully, "so stand aside and let us through." Harry felt a slight relief in the knowledge that Hermione would be joining him for dinner.

"I, ah," stuttered the wizard, not sure of how to proceed, "I beg your pardon?"

"That's quite all right," said Hermione, bulldozing her way inside. Her gait faltered for just a moment as she caught sight of the five members of the hearing board. None seemed to have been born in the latter half of the century while the two eldest witches might have arrived too soon for the first. Seated in the center of the polished oak bench sat a smallish wizard who apparently sucked a lot of lemons.

"The accused will take the witness stand," said the humorless and, apparently, constipated inquisitor. "The witch will leave." It didn't come across as a suggestion.

"The accused," said Hermione, trying with some difficulty to maintain her nerve, "has the right to a representative, sir. I am that person."

"You?" asked the eldest, albeit liveliest of the witches. She smiled and gave an aside to her fellow questioners, "This shouldn't take long at all." The others laughed menacingly.

"Very well," said the leader of the group. He nodded at the attendant who closed the great doors. Shacklebolt and Dawlish remained inside to provide security. Harry then noticed the large nameplate setting prominently in front of the small man. It read 'The Honorable Clayton Picknitty'.

"Your name," intoned the wizard, not looking at either of the Potters while holding his quill over a parchment.

After a quick glance at Hermione, Harry replied with a tentative "I'm Harry Potter, sir."

Picknitty raised his gaze from the desktop to Harry. "Do you think that's funny, Mr. Potter?"

"I, ah... well, no," said Harry, confused. "I was just answering your question, sir." He had already become shaken and disoriented by the questioning and they hadn't gotten past his name, yet.

"I was addressing your counsel," clarified Picknitty. "I believe that you have had enough incidents to make yourself quite recognizable to anyone in the Wizengamot." He stared disapprovingly at Harry for one further second before switching to Hermione.

"My name is Hermione Jane Granger Potter," said Hermione, confidently.

Picknitty sighed and wrote this information down. After a few moments of contemplation, he asked, "Mr. Potter; are you aware that this preliminary hearing will determine if a full trial should be convened in response to the very serious charges facing you?"

"I am," said Harry.

Picknitty continued, "I realize that it is the nature of husbands, more especially of recent newlyweds, such as yourself, to indulge your wife's suggestions or demands and I'm sure that she has, in her own mind, at least, prepared an adequate defense of your alleged actions but I would feel less than assiduous in my responsibility to justice if I failed to suggest than you hire a competent barrister, or at the least, a solicitor, to assist you."

Harry took a moment to realize that Picknitty, although not displaying any of the normal signs of raving lunacy, had suggested, nay, asserted as probable fact, that Hermione was less than fully knowledgeable and prepared to mount his defense. The dottering fools on either side of him nodded their agreement to his nonsense. Before Harry could form a response that wouldn't directly assault their delusions, for he had heard that was a bad thing to do to the insane, Hermione stepped forward and confronted the board.

"Fortunately, that will not be necessary," she said, smugly. "I happen to have access to someone who is not only well versed in the law; he was also intimately involved in the particulars of this case."

"If I might ask," asked Picknitty, "why was it that your expert didn't accompany you in the first place?" Harry thought that he had a valid point.

"It was unnecessary," answered Hermione, "since he is already with us, here in this chamber."

All of the board members automatically looked about the room before expressing their confusion to each other.Finally, Picknitty said, "Very well. You may reveal your expert and we shall begin this hearing."

Before Hermione could summon her phantom witness, an ethereal voice drifted out of the walls announcing, "All available aurors are to report to the Diagon Alley entrance immediately. Repeat; all available aurors are to report to the Diagon Alley entrance at once."

Harry looked at his watch. Five minutes past one. They weren't taking any chances that he'd leave early, this time. He turned to see Kingsley and Shacklebolt pulling their wands and preparing to answer the summons. Harry instinctively began to move to join them.

"Where do you think you're going, Mr. Potter?" intoned Picknitty. He, along with his fellow inquisitors, didn't seem as concerned about the announcement as the aurors had been.

"I was going to, ah," began Harry, before realizing that he couldn't tell the truth. Thinking quickly, if not creatively, he said, "I need to, um, use the restroom, sir."

Shacklebolt smirked as he left the room and even Dawlish rolled his eyes in disbelief at Harry's uninspired excuse before following after his partner.

"The restroom?" asked one of the elderly witches. Her nameplate identified her as Maria Goldenrod. "You've only been her a short time. Didn't you think to go before now?"

"No, ma'am," said Harry, deciding that this was his story and he'd stick with it. "It should only take a moment.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," said Picknitty. "Please make haste, however."

Harry started, once again, for the door before he was stopped by the chairman. "Mr. Potter," he said, loudly and clearly.

Harry stopped impatiently and looked back. Picknitty pointed towards a door off to the side that was emblazoned with the unwelcome words 'Gentlemen's Water Closet' on the front. Harry grudgingly walked over to the door and entered the antique lavatory.

Harry looked at his watch again. He was trying to decide the maximum amount of time he could be gone without having a search party sent when there came a knock on the door. "Just a few minutes," he called, wondering exactly how impatient these old fogeys were. It had only been thirty seconds, if that.

"Let me in," called a familiar and female voice.

Harry opened the door a crack and said, "Hermione. You can't come in here; it's for men."

Hermione pushed past him and retorted, "And how many women's restrooms have you been in, Mr. Potter?"

"Won't this look suspicious?" asked Harry. He knew the answer but didn't know what else to say.

"They won't remember a thing," said Hermione. "Now, what's the plan?"

"No idea," replied Harry. "I suppose we could just head to the Diagon Alley entrance like the rest of the aurors and see what's up."

"Do you know where that is?" asked Hermione.

"No idea," replied Harry.

"The Death Eaters is being where Knockturn Alley is being Diagon Alley, Harry Potter," said Slider, calmly.

"Really?" asked a surprised Harry. He had forgotten about their body guards. "How many are there?"

Slider concentrated for a moment before saying, "Sleepy and Mistress Martha is seeing ten Death Eaters on Mistress Martha's maps, Harry Potter."

The ability of the elves to communicate amongst themselves was well known but little remembered. Now, it seemed, that would be a huge tactical advantage. "I want to see what they're up to," he said to the group. "The three of us will go under our cloaks. Slider, tell the rest of the commandos to prepare to meet us at Borgin and Burkes when you give the call. That store's pretty centrally located so we should get a good view from there. We'll also flank them if they're all at the end of the alley. I don't want Ron to come, just yet. That carpet would make him too noticeable a target." He pulled his cloak out of his inner pocket.

"Do you have the force multiplier orbs, Slider?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," replied Slider. "If the Death Eaters is being doing bad things, Slider and the Hogwarts Free Elves will be using the Weasley balls to be making them stop."

"Of course," said Harry. "If they aren't hurting anyone, I'd like a moment to see what they're doing first, if you don't mind."

"Yes, Harry Potter," agreed Slider. "Hogwarts Free Elves is being ready. We should be being going, Harry Potter."

"Let's go, then," said Hermione, holding out her hand.

Harry didn't take it but instead said, "I meant that Slider, Jumper and I would go. We all have cloaks."

"I don't think..." began Hermione.

"No time to argue," said Harry. "Nothing personal, dear, but Jumper and Slider, especially with the cloaks, are better suited to this sort of an operation. They're more effective than either of us, if it comes down to it."

Hermione put her hands on her hips but Harry, surprisingly, was right on all counts. "Fine," she said, giving him a kiss. "Don't do anything stupid."

They were in a hurry but Harry took the time to ask, "Are you going to say that every time I go into battle?" Hermione beamed at him but merely stood back so they could leave.

Harry threw his cloak over himself and said, "Let's go," and with a pop, they were gone.

Actually, without a pop, they were still there.

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione.

"We isn't being able to be popping, Mistress," said Slider. "They is using the goblin ward."

"Great," said Harry. Both he and Hermione thought frantically. "Slider," said Harry a few moments later, "You were able to pop close to us at Umbridge's house. Can you get us close to Borgin and Burkes?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Slider, excitedly. "Be taking Slider's hand." Harry did so and once again, with a pop, they were gone.

This was Knockturn Alley, alright. It always had that dusty, twilightish atmosphere, even in the middle of the day. Harry heard the commotion from around the corner and took one step before a cacophony of apparition pops shocked him into motionlessness. The eight other members of the Hogwarts Free Elves had joined them. In their midst was someone who was specifically supposed to not be there.

"Ron!" shouted the still invisible Harry, nearly unseating, or more accurately, uncarpeting his best friend. Pulling back his cloak, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"The same ding you awer," said Ron. "Fidting Death Eadders." He pulled his wand in preparation. Harry was about to protest when he saw the look in Ron's eyes and held his tongue. This was Ron's chance for a little payback and Harry wasn't going to be able to talk him out of it.

"Alright," he said. Acting instinctively, he said, "Here, take this." He pulled off his cloak and draped it over Ron's shoulders. Ron began to refuse when Harry said, "I don't want my godson's dad to miss his birth. I'll be fine. Slider and Jumper, and everyone else, I suppose, are right here with me."

Ron hesitated for just a moment before nodding and, with the exception of parts of his carpet, he was soon invisible.

"Let's go," said Harry and led the group around the corner. As they took their first look down the alley, the first thing that caught their eye was the number of Death Eaters. While the reports from just a couple of minutes ago claimed only ten, there were at least forty Death Eaters in full skull and black robes.

"Ron," said Harry, softly. "Take an elf and head for the rooftops. Check for any other surprises."

"Good idea," responded Ron and, lowering himself for a second so that Curly could climb on back, he took to the sky.

Harry waited for a few seconds to allow Ron to discover and warn them of any immediate danger and then led his group further down the street. Apparating away was, of course, no longer an option. The anti-apparition ward was very real and powerful. Escape, however, was not on Harry's mind. Slipping from storefront to storefront, they used the gloom to their advantage and remained unseen for most of the distance. The battle from the Ministry end of Diagon Alley was now in full swing, occupying the attention of the villains but the Death Eaters had quite a force and plenty of defensive locations. Harry thought it odd that the aurors would have attacked so soon. Surely, some sort of a plan or reconnaissance would have been prudent before engaging the enemy.

Ron swooped back down and gave his report. "They 'ave silden in cages!" he shouted, aghast.

"They have silden?" asked Harry.

"Cha ilden," repeated Ron, angrily. "Tell him, Curee." He was too upset to concentrate on his speech.

"The Death Eaters is being putting children in cages, Harry Potter," said Curly. "We is seeing many wizards and witches being lying on the ground. Many children is being locked in cages." He, like Ron, also seemed to be quite surprised at these actions and eager to do something about it.

Harry was shocked. This was bad, even by Voldemort standards. Stunning or killing innocent people and taking their children? "Let's go!" he shouted, reaching for his wand. "Bloody hell!" he muttered a moment later. His wand was still at the security guard's desk.

His shouting did have the effect of notifying a couple dozen Death Eaters that he had arrived. The back ranks pulled themselves around to face this new threat.

"It's Potter!" shouted one of the foremost Death Eaters, foolishly using his wand as a pointer instead of a wand. It was pulled from his grasp as Slider, leading four elves up the left side of the alley, raised his hand.

"Potter!" shouted another Death Eater, again casting no spell. He soon felt the wrath of Jumper and his team as they approached from the right.

Harry didn't have all that many options. His best wandless magic was fairly wide field in its uses and there were elves in the way. About all he could do was try to blind the Death Eaters with some wind. Raising his hands as he chased after his commandos, he produced a formidable forty to fifty mile per hour gust that was sustained for several seconds. This allowed the elves to reach the main body. It didn't do Ron any good, though. He had to veer upwards or risk being thrown into the side of Gringotts. The confusion of the Death Eaters was helpful to the elves, however. Within seconds, half a dozen of Voldemort's followers lay motionless on the ground. With shouts of "Run! Potter's here!" or "Pull back!", the situation had soon become a rout. Most of the Death Eaters pulled out portkeys and escaped. A few, however, chose to fight. It was a poor choice. Slider and his team had them horizontal in short order.

Harry ran over to the closest cage of children just as the ordinary citizens began creeping out of the shops. He flung open the door and at least a dozen crying children came streaming out. Ron, still mostly under the cloak, had done the same to the other cage and, very soon, at least twenty children were running around looking for their mothers and fathers. Some were reunited joyously while others could merely huddle next to their parent's bodies. Two of the youngest, though, a boy and a girl, clung to Harry. The crowd was starting to grow as people compared notes on what had happened. Harry saw Scrimgeour and Dawlish working their way through the far end of the battlefield.

"Slider," said Harry, softly.

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered Slider. He was nearby and remained invisible.

"We'd better get the visible members of your team out of here," continued Harry. The rest of the elves had taken up peripheral positions around the area, concentrating their attention on the newly freed children. He was distracted by the jabbering of the youngsters holding on to his robes. "You've performed admirably but I don't want it to be too obvious that we have elves helping on missions."

"Thank you, Harry Potter," said Slider, responding to the complement, "but it might be being too late for that."

"I know," agreed Harry, "but if we can withdraw before any photographers show up, it'll just be rumors."

"I understand, Harry Potter," said Slider. He said nothing else but Harry noticed that the other elves suddenly started to make their way to Knockturn Alley.

"Ron," called Harry, seeing the carpet nearby. "You'd better go with the el, er, guys. I'll join you back at headquarters as soon as I can." Ron didn't answer and Harry couldn't see his face to read his opinion of his orders but the carpet soon joined the elves.

After he could no longer see the red robes, Harry asked, somewhat loudly, "Does anyone know these children?" They were no more than four years old and had begun to cry. Kneeling, he said, "Don't cry. We'll find your parents."

The girl didn't stop crying but the boy looked up and saw Harry's scar. "You're Harwy Potter, aren't you?" he asked.

"Well, yes," admitted Harry. Do these people have Harry Potter flash cards or something?

"Did you make the bad men go way?" he asked. Several nearby witches were listening in on the conversation, by now.

"Not by myself," said Harry, accurately. "There were lots of people fighting them."

"They weren't worried about the aurors," offered an elderly witch, smiling first at the small boy, then turning her attention to Harry. "When you showed up, though, they knew what was what."

There were many murmurs of agreement from the crowd. Harry just wanted to unload the children on someone and get back to the Ministry but no one was offering.

Flash! Harry instinctively looked up. From across the alley, standing on the steps of Gringotts, a photographer had captured the first photo of the aftermath. Harry grimaced when he saw that Rita Skeeter was standing next to him. The pair began their decent into the crowd. Harry began to plan his escape.

"Harry!" A familiar voice called from a dozen yards away. It was Scrimgeour. Dawlish had temporarily left him to check on the casualties. Harry was still tied down with the children so he just waited for Rufus to make his way over to him.

"Hello, Minister," said Harry, when Rufus had closed a bit of the distance. "I'm glad to see you're safe."

"Just the luck of the draw, Harry," replied Rufus. He walked up closer and whispered, "I have no bloody idea what those idiots were really trying to do but I'm glad you were able to help stop it before any of these children were hurt."

"No problem," replied Harry. "We were expecting 'something', but this ..." He didn't know what else to say.

"We'll question them, of course," said Rufus. "I'll let you know if anything interesting comes up."

"Thanks," said Harry. "Look; I have to go. I'm supposed to be in the middle of another hearing."

"I heard," said Rufus. "I have..."

"Well, if this isn't my lucky day," interrupted a chipper voice from just behind the Minister. It was Rita Skeeter.

Harry and Rufus both turned to face her but neither seemed inclined to offer greetings. After a moment of faking a sweet smile, Rita said, "Don't let me interrupt. I believe Harry had just mentioned a hearing. Is the Ministry harassing you, again, Harry?"

"No," said Harry, instinctively. He considered adding something else but decided, probably correctly, that his best option was silence.

Rita, observing Harry's reticence to continue, changed tack and addressed the Minister. "So, Minister," she began, "what theories do you have on the timing and reasons behind this attack?"

"If you'll excuse me," said Harry, using the opportunity to depart. He looked about, once again, to find someone to care for the children who were still clinging to him.

"Oh, don't go," said Rita. "I'd like for the two of you to both offer your views on this incident."

"Sorry, Rita," said Harry, "but I wasn't all that involved."

The crowd, which had transformed itself into an audience by this time, erupted in disbelief.

"Not involved?" asked more than one incredulous voice in unison. The closest woman appointed herself the spokeswitch for the group and continued. "The battle was over within ten seconds after you got here."

"I want my mommy," declared the girl, still holding onto Harry.

"I want to know what really happened here," stated Rita to both Harry and Scrimgeour.

"I want everyone to remain patient while we properly investigate this attack and tend to the wounded," said Rufus, reasonably.

"I want to get the bloody hell out of here," said Harry, under his breath.

"Martha!" called a witch from the far side of the street. Harry looked around instinctively for Martha.

"Mommy!" shouted the girl and ran for her mother. One down, thought Harry. One to go.

"So," resumed Rita, "you were being interrogated by the Ministry and then... what?" She held her quill in anticipation.

"I wasn't being interrogated," argued Harry. "I don't think it's any of your business, anyway." He had had quite enough annoyance for one day, already, and was still facing the hearing. He didn't need Rita, too.

Rita shut her notebook and said, "Have it your way. I'll just go down to the Ministry and investigate for myself."

"They just wanted to chat about how I became an animagus," said Harry, quickly deciding that he didn't want to give Rita Skeeter any more reason than necessary to go snooping around.

"I see," said Rita, reopening her notebook. "They needed some technical tips, then?" She looked at him, knowing, of course, that that was not likely to be the reason.

"I'll bet they did," chimed in one of the nearby witches. Her friends readily agreed and began chattering among themselves. Harry's dragon rides had become the stuff of legend since the party. Fully half of his fan mail consisted of veiled, and not so veiled, requests to be included at the next event.

"I'll leave you two to it, then," said Rufus, attempting his own escape. He swung around and tried to walk away, inadvertently relying overly on his bad leg and nearly colliding with an aged wizard that had maneuvered into a better position to eavesdrop.

Harry reached out and caught hold of Rufus, preventing a fall. "I've got you, Minister," he said, cheerily.

Poof! Another pan of flash powder erupted as the Quibbler's photographer took his first photo.

"Well done, Harry!" shouted Linus Lovegood, clapping Harry on the back. "Finally caught the old scoundrel red handed, eh?"

"What?" asked Harry, confused by this unfathomable pronouncement.

"Scrimgeour," exclaimed Linus. "Like you just said; you've got him. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions. First, how did you find out about his planned attack and have you any idea how a vampire such as the Minister is able to be out in full sunlight?"

Vampire?" asked Rufus, flummoxed. The crowd pulled back from him in shock. Murmurs broke out and more than one person was heard to say that they had read about it before, somewhere.

"I was here first, Lovegood," snorted Rita. "Now let's see; where were we?" She glanced over her notes.

"If you're not prepared," retorted Lovegood, "I'll just have a go, myself."

"I was in the middle of an interview when you interrupted," stated Rita, truthfully.

"My readers have a perfect right to know the truth behind this attack and Scrimgeour's obvious complicity," countered Linus.

"Your readers," said Rita, "reader, more likely, can wait their turn. I'm already halfway through this interview so you can just... go away."

"Why don't you give me a minute to catch up and we could kill two birds with one stone," suggested Linus. "That way, we won't have to tie up these two gentlemen for the entire... Bloody hell; where'd they get off to?"

Harry and Rufus had disappeared. Stepping quickly behind one of the cages, Harry borrowed Jumper's cloak and threw it over the minister and himself. Jumper, being societally invisible in any event, made his way down Knockturn Alley, heading for the edge of the anti-apparition zone.

"This way, Minister," said Harry, following Jumper in a crouch. Their feet remained visible, nevertheless, but the departure of most of the citizens of this street with the arrival of so many aurors prevented anyone from seeing that anomaly.

After they had turned the corner and become free to apparate, Harry removed the cloak and handed it back to Jumper.

"Thanks, Harry," said Rufus. "That was getting a bit uncomfortable."

"Too much sunlight," said Harry, chuckling at his inside joke.

"Too much Rita," countered Rufus. He looked around, briefly, to make sure they weren't being overheard and said, "I'll let Kingsley and Jack handle this investigation. I have some checking of my own to do, at the Ministry."

"Fine," said Harry. "I have to get back to the hearing, anyway." Glancing around, himself, he asked, "Need a lift back to your office?"

Rufus thought a moment before deciding and said, "If it'll get me by Rita and Lovegood; sure." Harry offered his arm and a moment later, both he and the Minister were back in his office.

"Thanks, Harry," said Rufus. "By the way; I was wondering if you could arrange someone to babysit Greta, again, this weekend."

"Well," began Harry, "I'm not sure. Ron's getting married on Saturday. That should keep Hermione and me tied up most of the day."

"I know," replied Rufus. "Why do you think we're coming? I thought some of your friends might be less busy."

"Oh," said Harry. "Of course. I'm sure I could find someone willing to watch her."

"Fantastic," replied Rufus, beaming. "I'll see you Saturday, then."

Harry concentrated on the privy he had left several minutes earlier and very soon found himself back inside.

Cautiously, he pulled the door open and peered out. Hermione was engaged in a conversation with what seemed to be one of his investigators. Harry caught Hermione's eye and she said, "Good; you're back. Okay, Harry. Go back in and wait, oh, I'd say about two or three minutes. I'll set everything right out here and no one will be the wiser." She sat back in her chair, her wand under the table in preparation. Harry chanced a glance at the hearing bench and saw that, as suspected, they were all sitting in their seats, frozen like statues. Hermione had undoubtedly also cast the first half of the special obliviate spell on each of them prior to petrification. But to whom was she just speaking?

Harry forced that question out of his mind and returned back to the water closet and waited. It was now almost one-thirty. Surely, someone would notice that the last half hour had gone by very, VERY fast.

When the two minutes had passed, Harry returned to the hearing room and went to sit next to Hermione.

"Mr. Potter," said Picknitty, "would you please return to the witness stand?"

"Oh," responded Harry, turning around. "Sorry. I forgot." He returned to his former seat and sat down.

"Let us proceed, then," said Picknitty. "Mrs. Potter. Could you please call forward your expert?"

"Certainly," replied Hermione. "If you'd be so kind as to turn around, I'll introduce you."

"Turn around?" repeated Picknitty. He did not turn around, but two of the four others with him did so.

"Oh, my," said a heretofore silent wizard named Joshua Juryrigg. "It's Albus."

By virtue of having been the former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore had a painting, among other places, in the Judicial Wing of the Ministry. Using the rules of painted images, he was then able to travel about the building, using any other paintings he needed. This all resulted in his currently being able to occupy a large pastoral landscape of seventeenth century England that hung directly behind the bench.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore. He assumed the more regal position of standing at his full height with his head thrown back, knowing that this would help to rattle his opponents.

"Good afternoon, Albus," replied Picknicky. "I'm afraid that I've underestimated Mr. Potter. He and his wife have indeed secured competent counsel."

"Thank you, Clayton," replied Dumbledore, "although I may be experiencing a change of status from counsel, as you put it, to accused."

"What do you mean, Albus," replied Goldenrod. She had turned her chair around, now completely ignoring the youngest participants of the inquiry.

"I'm afraid that I may be guilty, or at the least, responsible, for the majority of the crimes alleged today," responded Dumbledore.

There was an immediate tumultuous uproar. Well, some mild murmurings, but considering the average age of the participants, we'll give it to them.

"You?" asked the most elderly of the quintet; an ancient witch with the unlikely, though appropriate name of Eileen Dover.

"Of course," responded Dumbledore. "Let's review the charges, shall we? The first offense, chronologically, would be attempting the animagus spell without prior Ministry notification or approval."

"That's correct," agreed Picknitty. He lifted a sheaf of parchments and read, "followed by the actual casting of the spell without supervision and failure to notify the Ministry of the nature and markings of your form following the successful completion of the animagus protocol."

"I'm definitely guilty of the first two," stated Dumbledore, solemnly. "As to the third, a single witness is all that is required to settle that matter."

Again, there was a series of murmurs from the five examiners. Harry watched in silence as they conferred among themselves, now and then asking a question or merely casting a glance towards Dumbledore's portrait. He seemed to be forgotten, not that he was complaining.

A few minutes into the huddled conversation between the geezers, Harry indicated that Hermione should join him near the witness stand. When she complied, he asked in a whisper, "Who's this witness?" Ginny was the only person he could think of and she left prior to the actual spell sequence.

"I have no idea," replied Hermione, also in a whisper, "but Grampa probably has everything in hand. We'd better just leave it to him." She motioned for Harry to remain silent as she had discerned that the conclave was coming to an end.

Picknitty stated, trying with difficulty to address both Harry, seated in the witness chair and the portrait of Dumbledore, "We seem to be in agreement that you," at this point he indicated Dumbledore, "are the must culpable member of the conspiracy. There still remains the serious matter of concealing the animagus transformation from the Ministry. If you could name your witness, as well as his or her most likely location, we might be able to conclude these proceedings."

"Certainly," said Dumbledore, cheerily. "His name is Rufus Scrimgeour."

The reaction to this pronouncement was nearly universal. Unfortunately for Harry, it was not simultaneous. "Rufus?" he exclaimed, a full two seconds before anyone else had drawn sufficient breath.

"This witness surprises you, Mr. Potter?" asked Picknitty. "Could you please explain this anomaly?"

"It's really quite simple," said Dumbledore before Harry could bugger up their story. "After a successful animagus enchantment, the law requires the notification of the appropriate Ministry officials within a reasonable amount of time. Harry, I assume, was under the impression that he had to notify a particular department within the Ministry. Because of the sensitive nature of this particular case, and due to the desire to keep the nature of Harry's form out of the public's, and more importantly, Voldemort's knowledge, it was decided to notify the Minister directly. This fulfilled the parameters of the law."

"Did you get all of that?" asked Hermione, out of the side of her mount and in a whisper.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," responded Slider, also in low voice.

"Please go and tell the story to Minister Scrimgeour," ordered Hermione.

Pop! It was a soft pop, for an elf. It was, however, loud enough to be noticed.

"What was that?" asked Picknitty, quickly. He had been working on a note when he was distracted.

"Oh, ah," stuttered Hermione, thinking quickly. "That was me. We had beans for lunch, you see. Sorry."

Picknitty stared at her for a moment before returning to the parchment he was composing. Harry was biting his lower lip, desperately trying to keep from laughing. After another minute, Picknitty folded the note into a paper airplane and sent it on its way.

"Well, Mr. Potter," said Picknitty. "If this last part of your story holds true, you should be on your way. If not..." He frowned.

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "Thank you, sir."

They waited in silence for what seemed like an hour; that was fortunate for Harry since at least two of the jurists looked questioningly at their watches but not putting two and two together. When the door finally opened, it was a harassed looking Rufus who entered the chamber. He was leafing through a stack of parchments as he walked.

"I'm pretty busy, Clayton," said Rufus as approached the bench. "Death Eater attack, and all. Your note said you had some questions concerning Potter, here. Well? Let's have them." He leaned against the railing of the gallery and waited.

"Just a couple quick ones, Minister," said Picknitty. "It'll take just a few minutes."

"You've got two minutes," said Rufus. "I wouldn't have bothered but your note caught up to me on the way to the holding area. This place was on the way."

"Very well," said Picknitty. "Well, basically, we only need to know if, and when, you first became aware of Mr. Potter's ability to transform into a dragon."

Rufus sighed. "Bloody bureaucrats," he muttered. "It was in August, sometime. Just before the attack at Hogsmeade. Maybe a week, before; maybe two. I don't recall the exact date."

"Was there a reason you chose to keep that information to yourself?" asked Goldenrod.

"To maintain the element of surprise, Maria," replied Rufus. "It's hard to improvise an effective defense against a dragon, as you are no doubt aware. Having Potter and his wife dropping out of the sky, unforseen, disrupted three attacks before the information was compromised. It might have even had some attacks cancelled out of shear confusion on You-Know-Who's part. I call that a suitable enough reason to justify my decision. Now, if you don't have any further questions..." He looked up impatiently.

"I believe that that will suffice, Minister," said Picknitty. "Thank you for your testimony."

Rufus turned on the spot and started to limp out. His unpredictable gait caused him to accidentally bump into the stack of parchments Hermione had placed on the Defense desk, resulting in a few of them to flutter to the floor. He stooped to pick them up.

"I'll get them, Minister," said Hermione, jumping up to help. She saw Rufus surreptitiously drop one of his own parchments and, without a word, but with a wink at Hermione, he was on his way.

"I'm satisfied," said Dover. "I see no reason to continue this investigation." Two of her associates murmured their agreement.

"I concur," said Picknitty. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter; thank you for your time and cooperation. Please consider this inquiry closed. I must say; I personally appreciate the accomplishments you have achieved due to your animagus transformations. My own great-grandson was on the Hogwarts Express with you. We were merely concerned with upholding the law."

"Thank you, Mr. Picknitty," said Harry. "I'm glad we were able to resolve this so easily."

With that, they gathered their parchments and headed out the door.

"Rufus said that he couldn't find out who originated the complaint," said Hermione, softly, showing Harry the parchment Rufus had dropped.

"I'm sure he'll keep checking," said Harry. "We will, too. For now, though, we have to play decoy, again." He didn't like the fact that Hermione would be with him, this time.

"Just you," replied Hermione. "I've got to do a little shopping in muggle London."

Harry, despite his previous thought, didn't particularly like the fact that Hermione wouldn't be with him. "What are you shopping for?" he asked.

"It's a surprise," answered Hermion. "I should have my project done by tomorrow night and then you'll be very pleased, I'm sure." She said the last part with a mocking tone that confused Harry.

"Can I at least have a clue?" he asked.

"Sure," replied Hermione. "The surprise comes in two parts and you started them both."

This didn't help. Of course, with Harry, the only clues that are really useful are the ones that start 'Here is exactly what I'm talking about'. They walked on until they reached the Diagon Alley entrance.

"You should be able to find your way home, now," said Hermione. "I'm going on to the phone booth. I'll see you back Hogwarts." She kissed him and they parted. Without comment, Slider followed Harry and Jumper went with Hermione; both invisibly, of course.

Harry didn't really think that there would be another attack but his stroll was part of the plan and a few dozen people expected him to follow it. He checked in with Fred and George, of course. He glanced into a few other shops without entering; making his way quickly towards the Leaky Cauldron. Jim and Ruby Sarus' store was one of the few that he actively browsed. After some thought, Harry bought a charm bracelet for Hermione. He decided to commemorate each of these visits with an appropriate figure. The first charm was just a few links of chain with nothing on the end; signifying apparition. The second was of a dragon. He actually hoped he wouldn't make enough trips to fill the bracelet but at least it gave him an excuse to buy something each time. He eventually entered the Leaky Cauldron without incident and flooed back to Hogwarts.

"The attack went better than expected, my Lord," said Snape. He was reviewing the preliminary reports of his hidden observers and was pleased with the results. "We only incurred the expected death of Caubus. We were then able to take our 'hostages' without difficulty and resist the aurors believably with little sustained resistance. Once Potter arrived, our forces panicked according to the plan. Our regulars made their escape while the rest of our 'elite' team was captured without any further fatalities."

"Excellent, Snape," said Lord Voldemort, happily. He, also, was examine some of the eyewitness accounts of the battle. "Their interrogations will cause further confusion within the Ministry. As for the public; I assume the citizenry were impressed with their 'savior'?"

"Of course, Master," answered Snape. "The immediate response has already been steeped in hyperbole, according to our informants, but that should be expanded ten-fold by the time the Prophet is delivered, tomorrow."

"Naturally," agreed Voldemort. "I am pleased. We might be able to step up the schedule, if public opinion responds as we expect." He placed the parchments he had been reading back on the table and then walked over to examine a globe. His fingers rested on top.

"What of the main front against Potter," he asked.

Snape frowned. It was impossible to lie to the Dark Lord but the truth didn't always protect you from his wrath, either. "That particular assignment is proving to be difficult, Master," he said. "This time of year..."

"I do not wish to hear these pathetic excuses anymore," said Voldemort, threateningly. "It's too cold; it's too dark. I would expect such comments from old women, not my loyal Death Eaters."

"I am pursuing a lead, My Lord," said Snape. "There appears to be some sort of a muggle vessel that is capable of traveling to the North Pole. Under it, in fact."

"Under it?" asked Voldemort, surprised.

"Yes," said Snape, pleased that his master seemed interested instead of vexed. "It's called a submarine. There is a type that can travel under the ice and then force its way to the surface. It's apparently made of glass, as far as I can figure. It's clear, at any rate."

"How can glass support such a craft in those conditions?" asked Voldemort.

"I don't know, Master," said Snape. "It is a new type of glass, I think. That's part of the name. It's called a new clear submarine. So far, though, our buyers have been unable to purchase, or even locate one."

Voldemort thought about this. "Very well, Snape," he said. "Continue to pursue this and any other likely methods. Perhaps chance will favor us and our next attack will succeed, if we are lucky. We may not need this submarine. Still, it is best to be prepared."

"Yes, Master," responded Snape as Voldemort left the room. Then, to himself, he added, "We had best be prepared because luck has deserted us."

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay but I'm back on seven days a week for the foreseeable future. It's also parade season, again. Translation: When I'm not at work, I'm playing trumpet. Still, I don't expect more month long delays between chapters. This one just took a long time, for some reason. Thanks for sticking with me and I'll be writing again, soon.

Dad


	69. Chapter 69

Chapter 69 - Many Revelations

October 15th, 1997

Harry and Hermione had taken the uncharacteristic step of arising very early so that they could finish at least some of their breakfast before the Daily Prophet arrived. Harry had no idea what the content of the story would be but he was sure of the outcome; one way or the other, he would be making a quick and early exit. As it turned out, they weren't the only members of their group to try for the Early Bird Award.

"...thirteen...fourteen...fifteen...sixteen," finished Honey, pointing at the last window. "Sixteen window boxes of flowers." She wrote this down and proceeded on to the next item on her list. Pointing her wand, she sent out a spell that quickly went from the entrance doorway to the instructor's dais. Checking her wand, she said, "One hundred and thirty-five feet." She didn't explain the need for this information but also wrote the number down. She had apparently been doing similar tasks for a while since some of the other early arrivals were actively watching while munching their toast. Ron was only vaguely aware of all of this, of course. Rising early, even for breakfast, wasn't one of his normal characteristics

"Good morning, Ron. Good morning, Honey," said Hermione for both her husband and herself. "How's the planning going?" She took her spot opposite Ron.

Honey sighed. "I suppose it's going as well as can be expected," she said. "I'm not ashamed to say that I'll be glad when it's over." She went back to the list.

"I'm surprised you're going to all this trouble," said Harry, taking his spot next to Hermione and facing Honey. "Wouldn't a smaller wedding be easier, on short notice?"

"I'd certainly prefer it," huffed Honey. "Unfortunately, my idiot future sister-in-law felt obligated to announce our wedding to the entire student body." She hit Ron in the arm to vent her frustration with Weasleys in general.

"That still shouldn't be a problem," said Hermione. "I mean, it's not like she invited everybody."

"Isn't it?" asked Honey, bitterly. "She might as well have. Every bloody student I have, and a few I don't even know, have been asking what sort of wedding presents we might like; the plans and menu for the reception; if their parents can attend as their guests; what bands we'll have for the dance..." She threw up her arms in desperation.

"Just tell them all to bugger off," suggested Harry, picking up a handful of bacon. Hermione slapped his hand and pointed at the tongs.

"Wouldn't I like to?" asked Honey, rhetorically. "I just don't want everyone mad at me." She sighed. "I suppose I should just make the best of it." She went back to studying her list while the rest of them continued with breakfast.

About twenty minutes later, with the bulk of the students and professors present, the post owls began to arrive. The first three owls that targeted Harry and Hermione were thank you notes for Harry. The writers were mothers of some of the children captured the day before. Nevertheless, they had to be particularly clever in how the envelopes were addressed in order to have managed to elude his celebrity postal screening service.

Harry glanced through them, marginally interested. "This one's from Martha's mother," he said, holding up a green parchment.

"Martha's mother is dead," whispered Hermione, seriously. The Daily Prophet's owl dropped the paper in front of her as she spoke.

"Not that Martha," replied Harry. "This one was a little girl who was, well, pretty upset after the battle. Ron. You remember those two little children hanging on my robes, don't you? Well, the girl's mum ..."

"Bloody hell, Harry," exclaimed a cacophony of voices both near and far. One was definitely the contralto voice of Professor McGonagall.

Harry stopped his story and glanced about as the shouts merged into an uproar of disjointed exclamations combined with very unsubtle looks in his general direction. He put his head down as he gestured for Hermione to check the paper for damages. Hermione slowly unrolled the paper as the conversations in the Great Hall grew ever louder and more numerous.

'Triumph of the Chosen One!

Death Eaters Routed! Children Freed! Ministry Saved!

October 14th, 1997 - Diagon Alley

At approximately one o'clock this afternoon, several dozen Death Eaters stormed into Diagon Alley, stunning witches and wizards alike in their rush to grab their children. That's right, readers. He-who-must-not-be-named has targeted children for reasons that I'm sure we don't even want to know. Eye witnesses left no doubt about misinterpreting the intentions of the Death Eaters.

'They made no bones about it' exclaimed Fastina Fostabout. 'Grab the children! Grab the Children! they shouted to each other. Stunned two poor mothers with young children right in front of me, they did!'

According to multiple witnesses and confirmed by Ministry representatives, the attack originated from Knockturn Alley. With no warning, up to seventy Death Eaters invaded the normally peaceful commercial mall in their villainous quest for children. Quickly capturing many of the imps before anyone could even realize what was happening, they managed to secure two hundred yards of Diagon Alley before any sort of resistance could be attempted. By that time, of course, an estimated three dozen children had already been locked in a brace of large carts equipped with bars to prevent escape. Although the Ministry, being only a quarter mile away, responded almost immediately with everyone and everything they could muster, the damage had been done. The Death Eaters fought a pitched battle with the Ministry aurors, many of which fell stunned or wounded, while some of their ranks prepared to begin their retreat with the children they had already captured.

'Our hands were tied, to a large degree,' explained Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. 'We couldn't use many offensive spells because of the danger to the children. We were working on a plan to prevent their escape when Potter arrived.'

Yes, readers. Harry Potter was, once again, at the right place at the right time. At this time, only the official line that he was 'having a chat' with Ministry officials was given for his presence. His stated purposes for such a coincidence remain under investigation but it was indeed a stroke of luck that he was at hand. Witnesses were few concerning his method of arrival but within just a few minutes after the start of the attack, the Death Eaters, who had established a defensive line at the intersection of Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, were shifting their ranks to repel, or more accurately, attempt to repel the force that was coming from behind them. With shouts of recognition, they knew their foe was none other than Harry Potter and the focus of their defense was shifted from the might of the Ministry to the fury of the Chosen One.

According to witnesses, while simultaneously dodging a hail of spells, Potter began his counterattack by charging headlong down the alley, casting an unidentified, yet powerful spell which had a helpful byproduct of throwing dust and debris in the faces of the Death Eaters. Whatever the spell, it was effective as many Death Eaters quickly fell to the ground. Potter then approached their ranks and dispatched a dozen or more in a matter of seconds. Yet another group fell moments later as Potter reached Diagon Alley. Seeing the futility of facing such a wizard, most of the conscious Death Eaters either apparated or portkeyed to safety, leaving their dead and wounded. Those who chose to fight were quickly subdued by Potter with some assistance by Ministry Aurors.

After the battle, Potter personally freed the wailing children from their cages. Minister Scrimgeour, perhaps embarrassed by the relative ease with which The-Boy-Who-Lived routed a force that was proving a match for his entire auror corps, quickly attempted to engage in a conversation with Potter to discuss what I'm sure he hoped would be reported as a joint defense of so many registered voters. This reporter attempted to get further details from both Mr. Potter and Minister Scrimgeour but they both quickly left the scene, presumably to avoid disclosing the depth (or lack thereof) of their working relationship. As more information is discovered, the Daily Prophet will update its readers.

Rita Skeeter - Reporting'

Anticipating a shift to more sensitive material, Hermione discretely cast the Muffliato spell, as usual. She then led off the interrogation.

"Harry," said Hermione. "I thought you said the elves did all of the fighting."

"They did," explained Harry. "I didn't want that to get out, though, since it's still a secret. I sent the visible elves back here to Hogwarts."

"That's fine," asked Honey, "but that wouldn't have stopped you from mentioning Ron's role, would it?"

"I didn't mention anyone's role," said Harry, becoming a bit exasperated. "At the time, I was just thinking of Ron as part of the Hogwarts group and sent him home with the rest of them. In hindsight, he could have stayed."

"Ascullally, Harry," said Ron, "you wah right. You wah in tha Ministry when tha attack stahted but I was at Hogwarts. How would we explain how I knew abowt it so fass?"

"Good point, Ron," said Hermione. "Anyway, the end result is neither Ron nor the elves have been identified. That's good for our side."

"There were a dozen red-cloaked elves and a six-foot six-inch man on a flying carpet and the only one anyone noticed was Harry?" asked Ginny in disbelief.

"Perhaps the dust and debris from Harry's spell helped conceal them," suggested Luna.

"I was almose debris," said Ron. "The bloody spell almose true me into Gringodts."

"What sort of spell did you use, Harry?" asked Neville. "Most of the stunning spells I've heard of don't have that side effect."

"I didn't have my wand," said Harry. "About all I could do was raise some dust. The elves took care of the rest."

"So you played street sweeper and made the front page?" asked Dougal, surprised, and just a little disgusted.

"Basically," admitted Harry. "To tell you the truth, I think it went pretty easy, even for the elves. The Death Eaters didn't really counterattack at all. It was strange, all the way around."

"I've been thinking the same thing," said Hermione. "In the first place, no one was killed. Except for the one Death Eater, that is. That's not like Voldemort. Then, this whole children thing doesn't make that much sense."

"It doesn't make any sense at all," said Harry. "Unless it was just some sort of stunt to rattle everyone's cage, I'm pretty sure that Voldemort didn't want that mission to succeed. It would have really annoyed him to have a few dozen five-year-olds show up at his doorstep."

"Then why do it?" asked Honey.

"No idea," retorted Harry.

"Less look at idt another way," said Ron. "What was the en resuldt?"

"Harry kicked his butt," said Ginny. Everyone chuckled.

"And the children were freed and Harry made the Daily Prophet," continued Hermione. "It was all good for Harry."

"I'm pretty sure that that wasn't part of the plan," said Harry, laughing.

"Probably not," agreed Hermione. She sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to wait to see what happens next and hope it starts to make sense."

"The Minister might have some ideas, as well," said Honey. "He'll have interrogated the captured Death Eaters by this weekend. We can ask his opinion when he comes for the wedding."

"I think that's the biggest surprise of all," said Harry. "I mean, given the state of things last Spring, what would the chances have been of having Rufus as a guest at one of our weddings?"

"He's not a guest," said Honey. "He's officiating. "He asked Arthur to ask us if he could do it when Arthur told him about our getting married."

"I've got ten pounds that says he figured out why you were rushing the wedding within ten seconds," said Harry. "He's proven more than once that he's sharp as a tack."

"And why are you, as Harry pointed out, rushing the wedding?" asked Ginny. She looked up with guileless eyes at Honey.

"Don't play innocent with me, Ginny," said Honey, knowingly. "If half of what I suspect is true, you might find yourself in a similar situation."

"Whaduv you heard?" asked Ron as Neville went vivid red. Fortunately, Ron's eyes turned to Ginny who looked surprised and guiltless. What an actress!

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Ginny. "Of course, that goes for half of your students."

And thus the group's discussion veered off in a direction that had little to do with it's serious origins and more to due with delving into the mysteries of the universe that had, until recently, managed to keep Weasley women generationally separated.

October 15th, 1997

Later that afternoon

Remus Lupin walked casually down the hallway, a flask in his hand. He would have been whistling had he known how. Two days earlier, he wouldn't have even been able to force himself to make this visit. B block had been made personally off limits since the arrival of Fenrir Greyback, two weeks earlier. Lupin hadn't trusted himself when, after all of these years, he finally had found himself with the ueber-werewolf under his control. It was true that the other main player in the ruining of his life was also nearby but the rat was not his problem. It would be up to Harry to decide when Pettigrew would breathe his last breath. Greyback, on the other hand, was all his.

It was Wednesday afternoon. There were no calendars or clocks for the prisoners to use to maintain a sense of time. That was a tactical decision to aid in the disorientation of the former Death Eaters. Greyback, he knew, would have no need of either of them. Werewolves always knew the phase of the moon. It was a part of their lives that they couldn't leave behind. They could feel it as it made its way around the world. It was the absence of that inner voice that convinced Lupin beyond all doubt that he was, at last, cured.

Greyback could still feel it, though. Lupin stood in front of the cell, watching as the creature before him, unaware of his presence, for now, lurched back and forth on his cot. He removed the silencing charm and heard the moans of his decades past attacker. He had timed it perfectly. Summoning a chair, he sat and waited to be discovered.

After about ten minutes, Greyback stopped his motions and sniffed the air. Opening his eyes, he saw the calm form of Remus sitting just outside of his cell. "Lupin," he called, forcing an affectation of control and confidence. "I didn't notice you. You're cutting it short, aren't you? Don't you need to be finding some shackles?" He had always taunted Lupin about his penchant for not allowing himself to run free during his cycle.

"I thought you might want some Wolfsbane Potion," said Remus, holding up the flask.

Greyback looked at the flask, greedily. Under normal conditions, he wouldn't need it. He would find someone that had a face he didn't like, set up camp outside of their house and wait. The moon would take care of the rest. His three cycles spent in Azkaban, though, taught him the meaning of leashed fury. His body was covered in the scars from throwing himself around his cell, tortured by the smell of human flesh all around that he couldn't taste. They hadn't offered him the potion in Azkaban. Why would Lupin, of all people, try to spare him that agony?

"I suppose," he said, nonchalantly. "If you have extra, I wouldn't mind." He didn't want to show his desire lest it be used against him.

"Oh," said Lupin, "this isn't extra. My girlfriend made it up before Harry cured me and I just didn't want it to go to waste." Lupin, too, tried to remain nonchalant despite his deception. This potion had been made by Tonks but it was always intended for Greyback. For this very moment, in fact.

"Cured?" shouted Greyback. All of his senses kicked into hyperdrive as he gathered the unregistered clues he had noticed but not considered. When he first detected Lupin, it was a man he smelled; not a werewolf. Lupin had no symptoms and was perfectly at ease. You could fake it, to a point, but not that well. Lastly, there was the lack of the connection all werewolves felt for each other. They could always find their own kind, if they wished, because of it.

"How?" he began, trying to fight the change as well as his excitement. "How did Harry cure you?" The underlying question, of course, was 'Will he cure me?'.

"It was dangerous," said Remus, truthfully. "To tell you the truth, I'm ashamed I let him try. It could have turned him or even killed us both."

"But you couldn't say no, could you," said Greyback, knowingly. "No. You can't lie to me about it."

"I know," said Remus. "I won't taunt you, either. There's no way I'd let Harry try it with you."

Greyback flung himself at the wall, breaking his thumb in his anger. "LUPIN!" he shouted. He was furious and beginning his lycanthropic transformation. It wasn't a good combination. "Why did you come here? Why did you tell me?" He panted heavily against the wall.

Lupin stood up. He didn't smile; in fact, he felt a bit ashamed. Pulling his wand, he petrified Greyback. Using his ring on the portkey icon, he entered Greyback's cell and set the flask on the floor. "There's only one reason I came here," he said. He returned to the hall and, before releasing the werewolf, said, "Revenge." He released Greyback and left, forgetting to return the silencing charm.

"I'll find a way, Lupin!" shouted Greyback. "Somehow, I'll make it worth Potter's while!" He huffed, pulling his thumb back into position to heal. That, at least, would be taken care of by the transformation. Picking up the flask, he came within a heartbeat of flinging it into the wall. Controlling himself, he downed the putrid contents quickly and set the flask down without breaking. He knew that broken glass on the floor wouldn't be a good idea. He sat down on the cot to await the effects of the potion, muttering, "Somehow... Someday."

October 15th, 1997

A little later than afternoon

"Well, good evening, Molly," said Harry. "I didn't know you'd be dropping..."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Honey. She wasn't growing used to her Weasley hair quite as fast as it was blazing across her head but the temper was coming along nicely. "We just stopped by to secure the services of the best man and bridesmaid." She led the way into the Head's Suite, her hand clutching her list as Ron followed behind.

"I would have thought that was implied," said Hermione. "Who else would Ron ask, for Heaven's sake?"

"We just wanted to make it official," said Honey. She grabbed Ron by the arm, pulling him forward. Ron, being Molly's son, was used to strong women so he immediately complied.

"Harry," he began, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I wowwed be vewy happy if you wowwed be ma best man." He smiled, please with his pronunciation.

"I'd be honored, Ron," said Harry, grinning broadly and shaking Ron's hand.

"Great," said Honey. "Let's go, Ron." She headed out the door with an obedient Ron floating quickly behind.

Hermione stood with her pleasant smile slowly slipping into insincerity as Harry walked over and sat on their sofa. "I suppose I'll need a new set of dress robes," he said as he picked up the letter from Martha's mum. He had decided on the spur of the moment to send a short note thanking her for her kind words. "My new set is white, so that won't do. What do... Hermione?" He noticed that she hadn't moved.

"What?" asked Hermione, snapping back to her senses. "Oh, I don't have a problem with it. She can wear white, if she wishes." She walked over and sat next to him. "It won't fool anyone, but she can pretend, I suppose."

"What are you on about?" asked Harry.

"Honey's dress," said Hermione, as if Harry was suddenly addled. "You said that a white dress wouldn't do and I was merely stating..."

"I didn't say anything about Honey's dress," countered Harry. "I mentioned that my dress robes were white and I should probably get some new ones in a more appropriate color."

"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" asked Hermione. "Bloody hell, Harry; change the color to anything you want." She stood up and, already being in the proper location, apparated to the Fortress.

Harry sat staring blankly for a moment before he turned to Crookshanks and said, "I'm not asking; I'm not wondering; I wasn't even here." He returned his attention back to the letter.

October 15th, 1997

Even later that afternoon but not quite supper time

Pop! "Harry," said Hermione, immediately.

"I didn't do it!" shouted Harry, coming out of his nap. The note from Martha's mum lay on the floor. He had noticed something the second time he read it and was thinking about it; hence, the nap.

"That's right," agreed Hermione. "I did. Now throw on a cloak and take us to the lake." She set down a large bag and put on her own cloak.

Harry faltered for a moment before complying. Hermione picked up the bag, again, and Harry apparated the two of them to the beech tree by the lake. When they arrived, Hermione said, "I have that present we were talking about earlier." She dropped the sack on the ground and pulled up on the bottom, dumping out a large disk. It was attached to an exceptionally long chain with very sturdy links.

Harry bent over to examine the disk. It was approximately eighteen inches in diameter and almost an inch thick. Emblazoned on one side was a stylized 'HP' and had a lightning bolt on the reverse.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, blankly. "I.. I.. I love it." He smiled unconvincingly.

"Liar," said Hermione, smirking. "You have no idea what this is, do you?" She waited for him to admit his ignorance.

"Well," said Harry, up to the challenge, "I think it looks like some sort of a, well, man-hole cover?"

"Remember when Zabini insulted Honey and me?" asked Hermione.

Harry remembered something of the incident but didn't make the connection.

"It's the suit of armor you crushed," said Hermione. "McGonagall left it as an object lesson for the Slytherins for awhile but it became something of a tripping hazzard so she gave it to me when I asked."

"And why do we need a crushed suit of armor?" asked Harry.

"I made it into a medallion for you," said Hermione. "I wanted you to try it on."

"It looks a bit heavy," commented Harry. He had seen some men wear an inordinate amount of jewelry but this was ridiculous.

"It's not for you to wear as a man, idiot," snapped Hermione. "Change into a dragon and I'll loop it around your neck."

"A dragon?" asked Harry, as if forgetting he could become one. "Why would I want a medallion when I'm a dragon?"

"Fred and George are bringing the goggles and scarf to the wedding," explained Hermione. "This will complete your outfit. Trust me; you'll like it."

Harry wasn't convinced but knew better than to continue the argument. He walked to an area clear of both Hermione and overhead vegetation and transformed. He then bent over so she could place the chain around his neck.

"Hold on, Harry," said Hermione as she levitated one end of the chain into the air. There was a bit of difficulty when she discovered that chains don't naturally open up when held by just one link. Without any help, she was at a loss on how to proceed.

"Just hold still," commanded Harry. The counterspell to the dragon speaking enchantment was beginning to wear off but she still maintained enough control to comply. Harry reached out with a claw and opened the chain just a bit before putting his snout through the links and, with just a little head wiggle, he managed to finish placing the chain around his neck. Hermione then adjusted the chain to fit snuggly, but not too tight.

Harry walked over to the edge of the lake to take a look. The medallion was okay, he thought, but he was never really into trinkets of this type.

Hermione, knowing all of this, said, "If you want to know why you want to wear it, just tap it three times with your front claw."

This confused Harry enough to try it. It was out of his sight and therefore difficult to do but he finally managed to tap it once; twice; three times.

Harry spirits rose as the enchantment took effect. This was indeed the perfect accessory for his goggles and scarf. His joy overwhelmed him as he took to the skies to enjoy his new medallion, marveling at how perfect a wife he had.

October 15th, 1997

Late that night, just before bedtime

"Ah, here it is." Lord Voldemort's voice was quite pleased. His plans for Harry Potter were coming along nicely. His latest attack had managed to terrorize the wizarding world while elevating Potter to near divinity. The Ministry had been shaken by it's inability to prevent a major assault on its very doorstep. Most important of all, though, was the discovery of the secret, or at least one of the secrets, of Potters power. Several of the Death Eaters ordered to escape the battle had returned with highly detailed memories. He had spent most of the day reviewing their observations; watching time after time as a wandless Potter ran down the alley preceded by the real heroes of the day. There could be no doubt; Potter's army was made up of house elves. Eight red-robed figures, four on each side of the alley, were able to overpower his men with the merest wave of their hands. The act Potter put on was for show. It had fooled the public, but, as a caster of wandless magic himself, he knew of its limitations. Without the elves, and that idiot on the flying carpet, Potter would not have survived the first thirty seconds of the fight. All that remained was to counter that force. It was to that end that he was reviewing the 'Big Book of Potter'. He had read something once before that didn't seem important. Some personal information that a fool had let slip in the presence of the wrong sort of wizards.

_September 27, 1997_

_Subject: Potter buys house elf_

_Informant J.G. Wells reports that a wizard by the name of Mr. Harvey Huntlinger of the town of Kent, was boasting that he had sold the daughter of his house elf to Harry Potter. The incident occurred while Huntlinger was drinking with some friends at the pub Swizzle Stick. It was mentioned that Huntlinger's primary elf, Dinky, was the sister of another of Potter's elves. No further specifics were overheard._

"Snape," said Voldemort. "We will visit this wizard and find out what else he might know about Potter. Bring some gold. We might need to make a business arrangement or two with him."

"Yes, my Lord," said Snape. "Do you wish to leave immediately?"

"Yes," said Voldemort. He then thought better of the idea and said, "No. I find my visits are more effective after midnight. We'll leave at two o'clock. It will be the two of us along with six good men. Choose them and have them meet us in the main hall at a quarter of two. I'll give them their orders at that time."

"Yes, Master," replied Snape and he left to notify the rest of the party.

Voldemort sat in thought. He had fought one of Potter's elves before. True; that had been a surprise attack but the power was still incredible. That must have been the deciding factor in the loss at Umbridge's house. Perhaps the failure in the arctic was also due to these house elves. He must come up with the means to neutralize that threat. Unfortunately, house elves had not been one of his many and varied subjects of study and he knew very little of them and their ways. That was about to change.

Author's Note: A short chapter but a good place to end. See you next chapter.

Dad


	70. Chapter 70

Chapter 70 - Vignettes

October 16th, 1997

Mid-afternoon in the village of Hogsmeade...

"I'm not sure what's bothering you," said Harry. "It was a very natural mistake to make."

"I'm just embarrassed about the whole thing," said Hermione. "I had no right to get upset in the first place. By the way, if you mention one word of this to anyone else, you'll need a parka in our bedroom." Hermione was in no mood to be trifled with. She said no more as she waited with Harry in the small dining room.

"I promise," said Harry. "I don't think it's that big of a deal, to tell you the truth. I just thought you'd like to know the reasoning. Besides, if she hadn't decided to try to break down the barriers with Ginny, I'm sure you would have been her first choice." Harry had had a discussion with Ron in which the redheaded soon-to-be-ex-bachelor had confided that he had noticed, surprisingly, Hermione's reaction when he and Honey had abruptly left the Head's Suite after securing Harry's services as Best Man. Ron explained that Honey thought that a good offense was the best defense in tempering her relationship with Ginny. Having Ginny as her Bridesmaid would also work out better aesthetically since they were fast approaching becoming a matched set.

"It isn't a big deal," agreed Hermione. "It's just embarrassing, like I said. I don't want to come across as being arrogant or petty. We've traveled a lot, lately, but Honey and I aren't really that chummy. I'd just like for the whole incident to drop, that's all."

"It's dropped," said Harry. "We have bigger fish to fry, anyway. After we recover from the wedding and reception, you were planning on having us check out Prudhoe Castle, the Butter Cross, the Turf Maze and the Jewelry Wall. That's a lot for Sunday. We might have to cut that short so you can prepare for your classes."

"That's Jewry Wall, Harry," corrected Hermione. "I think you also want to visit your new friends and get in your disgusting weekly fix for a few live sheep. As for my classes, I still have my notes. As long as Honey's syllabus is accurate, there shouldn't be any problems. I won't have third and fifth years at all and only have seventh year once." At McGonagall's suggestion, Hermione had agreed to give Honey a week off for her honeymoon by splitting Honey's classes with the Headmistress. Although she didn't come out and say it, Minerva knew who was the second most competent transfiguration expert in the school and she didn't have red hair. The ulterior motive behind the accommodation was to give Hermione a taste of teaching. Perhaps she'd get the bug.

"Remind my to skive off that day," said Harry, a bit under his breath.

"And just what is your problem with being in a class taught be me, Mr. Potter?" Hermione didn't sound playful at all.

"Nothing," lied Harry. "Well, it's just that Honey is more results oriented whereas you, well..."

"I'll expect you to explain what you're doing instead of waving your wand any way you want while using an unreasonable amount of magic to make it work," finished Hermione. "I'd suggest that you crack your book, then, and study the intricacies of bipedal to quadrupedal transfigurations if you wish to avoid embarrassment."

"Maybe there'll be an attack, somewhere," suggested Harry, hopefully.

"If there is," said Hermione, sternly, "you'd better have a note from Voldemort or I'll mark you as not excused."

"I won't forget," said Harry. He looked around and asked, "What's keeping her?" They were waiting for the local real estate agent, Fastina Fostabout. She was a very pleasant and affable witch, probably in her late sixties, who had the undeserved misfortune of being able, at a distance, to be mistaken for Dolores Umbridge. Neither Harry nor Hermione had the predisposition to hold such a horrible birth defect against her but the involuntary flashbacks were starting to get annoying.

"She said she had to find the proper forms," reminded Hermione. "It's only been a few minutes, anyway. Having a different person buy a property than will own it requires special care in the title and other forms and we certainly don't want to bugger it all up."

"I suppose so," agreed Harry. "You don't think this is a bit much, do you?"

"It's not that big of a house," said Hermione, "considering that Ron's a Weasley and all. I'll be surprised if they don't pass Arthur and Molly, eventually."

"It's not meant to be a permanent residence," said Harry, "just a starter home. I want my first godson to have a backyard to play in." They were currently looking out the back door at that very yard. Harry noticed that the largest tree had the perfect limb to hang a swing.

"I wonder if Honey will continue to teach when she gets up to three or four?" commented Hermione.

"I would hope she would have her priorities straight," said Harry. "The kids will need their mum full time to keep them in line, especially if they go full bore Weasley."

This discussion brought about some related thoughts to Hermione. "So," she began, hesitantly, "how many do you want?"

Harry thought about this for a while before deciding on, "All of them, I suppose." He smiled down at her with a loving smile.

"That wasn't the answer I was looking for," said Hermione, "but I like it." She was about to conclude their conversation with a kiss when Fastina returned.

Pop! "Thanks for waiting, folks," she said with her bubbly voice.

"Where would we go?" asked Harry, instinctively. Hermione cast him an annoyed look but said nothing.

"I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Potter," said Fastina, good-naturedly. "Now, if we could just finish up with these forms, perhaps you might find out." Okay, maybe not all that good-naturedly.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop widow's walk of Number 14, Grimmauld Place...

"You're planning on making a day of it, then?" Tonks leaned comfortably against the east side chimney stack.

"I haven't decided yet," answered Remus. "Probably. It doesn't set until four-thirty or so tomorrow morning." He leaned back into the comfy chair he had summoned and sipped on one of his bottles of mead.

"I'll miss you while I'm snuggled all warm and toasty in bed, tonight," said Tonks. She smiled and added, "I don't blame you, though. After all these years." She said no more and merely gazed out over the Thames, curling it's way towards the North Sea.

Just above it, though, was the object Remus was studying; the Full Moon. It had been over three decades since he had seen it through his human eyes and his view was obscured slightly through the tears of disbelief. Harry, the son of his long-dead best mate, had cured him of the incurable. The thought brought back the shame of his two most recent failures. The first was succumbing to temptation and hope and allowing Harry to take such a terrible risk. He should have refused. Most likely, that would have resulted in his death. He knew that even if he held firm at the time, he wouldn't have been able to resist for long and his only hope would have been to kill himself to save Harry. His second failure was giving in to the temptation of vengeance. He knew that, even as he sat here, far away in Scotland, Greyback was suffering worse than he ever had before. He would have taken the Wolfsbane Potion; that much was certain. Therefore, he would now have transformed but kept his mind. Normally, this would be preferable to the alternative; becoming a werewolf with no hope of satisfying the bloodlust. Now, however, he would be locked in his cell, fully aware that a cure was walking around nearby with no hope of obtaining it. It would have been more merciful to have just killed him. Remus considered that his first act as a man had been to behave like an animal. He was roused from these thoughts by a chipper Tonks.

"I suppose I could sit with you for awhile," she said, conjuring a lounge chair. Though not as long-lasting as the real thing, it would do for the amount of time she needed. "I need a bit of sun, anyway." Removing her robes and blouse, she put a warming spell on her bra, she grabbed one of the bottles and plopped into her chair, facing Remus and, more importantly, the Sun.

Remus was elevated from his somber thoughts and mused that life was good.

At the same time in a side chamber of the Dark Lord's latest lair...

"I don't want you to kill him," said a decidedly impatient Snape. "We've already determined that you can't kill him. I merely wish for you to stun him." Snape glanced momentarily at the bound and gagged wizard tied to a pillar in the center of the room. The gag was only necessary after Snape, against his better instincts but following his, and now also Dinky's, master's orders, had begun the elf testing by ordering Dinky to kill the man. Harvey Huntlinger had become quite vocal and more than a little annoying after that failed exercise.

"Dinky can't be being hurting Old Master unless ...," began Dinky.

"Unless Old Master is being hurting Dinky's New Master or Dinky's New Master's family or Dinky's New Master's house," finished Snape. "I know that. It won't hurt, I promise you. Just stun him."

"But Old Master isn't being able to be being hurting anyone," said Dinky, quite distressed by this time. "Dinky can't be being hurting..."

"Silence!" shouted Snape, quite fed up. Dinky immediately stood mute. Snape thought about all he had seen but was no closer to unraveling this mystery. He had watched multiple viewpoints of the attack at Diagon Alley. The red-robed elves had not shown the slightest hesitation in stunning any Death Eater they had come across. The current activity of any particular Death Eater had made no difference. Some were merely standing still, shocked. They hit the ground as fast as the rest. Somehow, Potter had overcome the reservations that Dinky was exhibiting with such zeal. Weasley, for that was surely the person on the flying carpet, had as little part in the attack as Potter. He was invisible but the story of his permit to use the carpet was leaked almost immediately. Perhaps he was the one directing the elves. Potter had shown no overt hand or verbal commands that could be determined. Indeed, it seemed that his participation was entirely unnecessary. The elves did all the work; then they left, taking Weasley with them. Potter stayed for the credit. Typical.

Shaking off the tangential train of thought and noticing it had been almost two hours since his last break, Snape ordered, "Dinky. Fetch some milk and chocolate chip cookies."

"Yes, Master Snape. Dinky will be needing to be making more cookies, Master Snape," replied Dinky.

"More cookies?" asked Snape. "I thought you made several dozen, as I instructed."

"Dinky is being making ten dozen cookies, Master Snape," agreed Dinky, "but Master Snape's friends is being eating many of Master Snape's cookies."

"Oh, they are, are they?" asked Snape, menacingly, glancing around at his guards. They didn't meet his eyes but more than one failed to completely suppress a smile. "No matter. We shall resume our discussion in an hour."

"Yes, Master Snape," acknowledged Dinky as she popped away. Leaving to give another interim report while waiting for her return, Snape considered that this culinarily superb elf may have other uses than those desired by Lord Voldemort.

Simultaneously in Honey's flat although Ron would also appreciate the cookies...

"We don't have time to knit a wedding dress, Molly!" Honey had decided to take the direct route since subtlety wasn't working. Her mother had already taken all of the required measurements and they were looking through the bolts of white fabric that she had brought from their house.

"Now here's something that I already finished," said Molly, undeterred. She pulled an ivory wedding shawl out of her bag.

"Molly," said Nesta, "We only have two... my, that is nice." She ran her hand behind the ultra-fine knitted lace garment of gossamer yarn in admiration.

"Yes," said Molly, proudly, "I knitted that last spring when I had first heard that Ginny and Harry were..."

"You went to the trouble of knitting something like this before they were even engaged?" interrupted Honey.

"Well," said Molly, smiling slyly, "I was hopeful. Of course, I underestimated Hermione. It didn't seem to take her very long to snap up Harry when she had the chance. I mean, how often would a girl like her get the opportunity to land someone like him?" Losing Harry still seemed to be a sore spot for Molly.

"Mum," said Ron, shocked. "Hermione is wonna ma bess frens. Please down tawk about her that way." It also hurt a bit since his own mother thought Harry was a better catch than he was.

Molly quickly went to give her youngest son a hug. "Never you mind, Ron," she said, soothingly. "You came out better on the deal, anyway." Although this was another backhanded slap at Hermione, Ron realized he had better not say too much with Honey nearby.

"I like the shawl," said Honey, looking through the nearly transparent, wispy lace. "If it doesn't match the wedding dress, it might work as a robe for my nightie."

"And do what?" asked Molly. "Keep it company on the bedpost?" Both she and Nesta laughed uproariously. "Why I remember on my wedding night; we weren't in the bedroom five seconds before Arthur..."

"MUM!" shouted Ron. "I don wanna hear abow your weddin night!" He was already blushing but the afterburners hadn't kicked in yet.

"And just how, exactly, did you think I ended up with seven children?" asked Molly in mock indignation.

"I, ah," started Ron, "I don wanna tink abow how you did it."

"It was probably the same way that you and Honey did it," said Nesta. "As a matter of fact, the basic procedure has been the same for quite some time and ..."

"I think we've embarrassed Ron quite enough for one day," said Honey. "Ron, dear," she continued, "why don't you go and find out where Daddy's hiding and help him with the flowers or something while the three of us compare notes on all of the possible variations of the 'basic procedure'?" Again, the three women, who seemed to take some sort of unhealthy delight in trying to burst the corpuscles out of Ron's skin, broke out in laughter.

In a room located one door this side of the Twilight Zone...

"Yes, Mother."

"And the names of the other occupants of this place might also be important. Would you be able to obtain those?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Let's see; what else might be useful to the Dark Lord?" Narcissa sat back onto her sofa and gazed out over Donegal Bay but her mind was looking inwards to come up with anything that might help her son regain his rightful position in the Death Eaters.

"Mother," began Draco, once again, "it might not be, ah, practical to try to return to the service of the Dark Lord." He had been trying, unsuccessfully, to bring that point home for the better part of an hour.

"Nonsense," replied Narcissa with an encouraging smile. "He'll be quite understanding, I'm sure. It wasn't your fault that you were captured, after all. Now that you've managed to gain the trust of these simpletons, you'll be very valuable to the Dark Lord. Maybe you'll be able to take your father's place as his most trusted advisor." She smiled at the thought.

"I'm pretty sure that I won't be doing that, Mother," responded Draco, suppressing an internal shudder.

"Well, not at first, of course," said Narcissa, pragmatically. "You'll need to work your way up. Helping to bring down the Abomination will go a long ways towards completing that goal. Do you think your odd little friend could be used to send and receive messages?"

"No, Mother," replied Draco. He had to work a bit harder than normal to maintain his even tone. The thought of anyone, even his own mother, suggesting that Luna be used for evil purposes was quite upsetting to him.

"No?" repeated Narcissa, frowning. She thought a bit and then nodded her head in agreement. "Of course," she said. "She'd probably do something foolish and ruin everything. We'll have to find some way that's more secure." She went back to her silent contemplations.

Draco had had enough, for now. Luna had done some foolish things in her day, it was true, not the least of which was falling in love with the likes of him, but he loved her dearly and didn't want any more of this conversation. "I have to go, Mother," he said, standing up. "I have, ah, some other work to do." He walked over to the icon over the mantle.

"Oh, can't you stay for dinner?" asked Narcissa, disappointed. "The elf will bring whatever we want."

"No, thank you, Mother," said Draco, taking the opportunity to bend over and give her a quick kiss on her cheek. "I have an appointment to keep. Perhaps Luna and I could return later on for a bit."

"Very well, Draco," replied Narcissa. "That would be lovely. I'll see you when you return, then."

"Goodnight," said Draco as he touched the icon and disappeared.

After he left, she returned to her chair and said, "Elf."

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy," replied Sleepy. Narcissa had demanded the full title from her own elves and expected no less from the new ones.

"Here's the menu for supper tonight," she began.

Deep in a dark cell of the Fortress of Solitude...

A werewolf lay quietly on the floor. At least it seemed that way. In reality, the mind of Greyback was making an epic journey. It began on the day he met a young Tom Riddle and found in him a kindredness of spirit that would lead both into, and eventually back out of a symbiotic friendship of convenience. Taking this path, Greyback was trying to find something he could sell. Incriminating details of atrocities were no good, he knew. Potter wasn't looking to arrest Riddle. He wanted him dead. What did he know that would help? Greyback knew of the locations and had intimate details of seven of the Death Eater strongholds. He knew the names of dozens of Riddle's most dangerous followers and had been to the houses of many of them. Detailed drawings would be valuable. He might, as a last resort, have to make a binding offer to spy on Tom. That might do it. He had to come up with more, though. He had to come up with something that would make it worth Potter's while.

Deep in the metaphysically deepest and darkest corner of the Fortress of Solitude...

"We's keeping our secrets. Yes, we's being a good elf." Winky was hunched down, squatting on the floor of the cave. Her distress would have been evident to anyone who saw her if she had allowed anyone to see her. She was holding her head in her hands as she rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet. "Winky should tell Master. Master can help." She stood up as if to leave but restrained herself and returned to her original position. "No. Winky isn't being a bad elf. Winky must keep our secrets. Winky must keep Dinky's secrets. Winky must be being a good elf. Winky must..." She returned to silence for a moment longer. Raising her head in despair, she cried out "Oh, Dinky. Winky isn't being knowing what to do." With that, she threw herself on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably and completely broken.

A short chapter but it brings us up to date before the wedding.

Dad


	71. Chapter 71

Chapter 71 - A Weasley Wedding

October 17th, 1997

In Minerva's office, just past suppertime...

"Well, that doesn't make any sense at all." Rufus Scrimgeour had given his initial report on the data collected from his interrogators and that was Harry's analysis. The captured Death Eaters from the thwarted attack at Diagon Alley had a few common characteristics. They all still retained the Dark Mark. They all were specifically told to shout a warning to the other members of their group before initiating any sort of resistance when Harry was spotted. Most curiously of all, though; they had been given the details of the purpose of their attack.

"From what we've heard from our conscripted ex-Death Eaters," continued Harry, "the run of the mill Death Eaters are usually just told where to go and what to do. 'Why' hasn't been a part of many of the briefings."

"Especially this sort of a 'why'," added Rufus. "Admitting weakness, if not near surrender to your foe would be the last thing they would want to say if it were true."

"Is part of the plan," said Ron. "Obiusly, they know we won't beweve them but the public might."

"Well, you're not going to release this information, are you?" asked Minerva.

"I don't have to," replied Rufus. "As Harry has found out twice now, there are Voldemort operatives still in the Ministry. If it's part of his plans, this will become public."

"He could always just cut out the middleman and go directly to Rita," added Hermione.

"But why?" asked Harry in exasperation. "What's the point? It's like he's my own personal publicist. I don't think that Mrs. Malfoy was part of the first plan but the goofballs he used this last time were so incompetent that it was like he wanted them to lose."

"They weren't incompetent when they were fighting my aurors," said Scrimgeour defensively. "They were putting up a good fight. In fact, they had what they wanted and with the portkeys they must have had, they could have each grabbed a child or two and left. For some reason, though, they knew you were at hand and waited around until you managed to arrive."

"At which time all the silver-handed Death Eaters immediately left, leaving the still-branded morons to take the fall," finished Hermione, with a fresh insight. "Everything went exactly as planned. The attack was designed to lose. Harry was intended to be the hero. Voldemort bloody well never wanted to see any of the children."

"So what does he gain from all of this?" asked Minerva. "It's like he wants everyone to see Harry as another Albus."

"I think you've hit the nail on the head, Minerva," said Grampa. Everyone looked up at the portrait. Smiling, Grampa looked down on them all. "Minerva," continued Grampa, "I had enough humility to try to ignore it while I was alive but do not think I was unaware of the hope that everyone placed in my ability to protect them from Tom. Remove the hope of winning and your enemy will no longer fight. By allowing myself to become the symbol of the fight against Lord Voldemort, I made a grave error. Even if I had not been killed, I was old. Sooner or later, I would have died anyway. Who then would take my place? Remember back to the first few days after my death. The streets were almost deserted. Panic gripped the hearts of many. The Ministry itself was on the edge of collapsing. Fortunately, the legend of Harry Potter's routing of my assassins began to spread and the hope of a better future spread with it."

"I think you might be reading a bit too much into the so-called 'Legend of Harry Potter' business," said Harry. "I get some crazy letters from time to time but I think..."

"You, yourself," interrupted Grampa, "have done more to enhance your legend than you may think. When you saved Hermione, you exhibited your courage. When your animagus form was revealed, many concluded that you must also have great power. The saving of the children of this school had people ready to knock over the statue of Merlin to make way for a bigger one for you. Even saving Ron has had its effect."

"You seem to be remarkably well informed on public opinions for a dead man," said Rufus, bluntly.

"As I've said before, Minister," replied Grampa, "fame has its rewards, even after death. There is a fairly large portrait of me hanging in the lobby of the Ministry. I don't stand in it that often, so perhaps you haven't given it much thought, but I do listen in quite a bit."

"What does this have to do with kidnaping a few dozen children and going into hiding for a generation or two?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," answered Grampa. "That was not the plan, though. What Tom wanted to do was have people _think_ that he was trying to kidnap a few dozen children for replacement Death Eaters and have them _think_ he was going into semi-retirement for a few decades. He also wanted everyone to know it was solely because of you that he was considering all of this. Add the Death Eaters he wanted you to capture and his plan was completed."

"What plan?" asked Harry.

"He wants everyone to think of you as a new 'me'. He wants everyone to place all of their hopes on your shoulders." Grampa paused for a moment, pained by the final part. "Then, Harry; then he will kill you."

"He's been twying to kill Harry for years," said Ron. "What diffuwance does it make if Harry's a hewo first?"

"Because there won't be anyone to take his place," said Rufus. "The Ministry was shown to be less powerful than Harry at the last attack. At least it appeared to be. The Death Eaters didn't even try to fight Harry so a real comparison wasn't possible. The public won't know that, though. Twenty-five aurors couldn't get near those children but Harry walks right up to the cages. What's the average witch or wizard supposed to think?"

"So if Harry is killed," concluded Hermione, "Voldemort wins. No one else would even try to resist if the 'Great Harry Potter' failed."

"Don't worry," said Harry, confidently. "If Voldemort wins this war, it'll be over my dead body."

Hermione scowled. "I wish you'd go back to puns. Your gallows humor is a bit depressing."

"Yes, Harry," agreed Ron. "You don't seem to be takin the pwoper attitude about having a mad man twying to kill you."

"I'll try to do better," conceded Harry. "In the meantime, I suppose we'll have to look on the bright side."

"The bright side of Voldemort trying to kill you?" asked Minerva.

"The bright side of how he's doing it," said Harry. "He might be letting us capture his most useless Death Eaters but at least we're capturing Death Eaters. The less there are of them, the better it is for us."

"I suppose," said Rufus. "Once they get here, you might be able to get something useful out of them."

"When will you be finished with them?" asked Harry.

"Unless someone shows a lot more knowledge than they have so far," said Rufus, "you could probably expect them late next week."

"Minista," said Ron. "I was wondewing if we could do the twansfa a little diffwent, this time."

"Different in what way," asked Hermione.

"Well," said Ron, "the Minista has alweady figured out that we awent really holding the pwisoners at the Nowth Pole. Voldemort doesn't know this, though. He muss stiwl thing that we awr up there. If we twansfa the new guys the wight way, he will really think that they are there."

"I think I see," said Rufus. "The last big prisoner transfer was a mystery. At least it was for awhile. Now, it's almost common knowledge that they ended up with you. You want to be a little more obvious, this time, to throw Voldemort off the track of where you're really set up."

"Exacly," said Ron. "We send the ship up nowth as far as we can. Then, we move them."

"We'll have to use the elves from that far north," said Hermione, "but it would make it almost impossible to not be fooled." Looking at Harry, she said, "I like it." She wasn't the only one. Within a few minutes, the details were nailed down.

Or so one would have thought...

"So where is this island?" asked Ron as he followed on his carpet as Harry and Hermione walked down the hallway.

"It's north of Norway," said Hermione. "I'd say between four and six hundred miles north."

"And what's it called, again?" asked Harry.

"Svalbard," said Hermione.

"How big is it?" asked Ron.

"Not very," said Hermione. "I'd say it's about the size of Ireland."

"That's not big?" asked Harry.

"Not when you compare it to Greenland," answered Hermione.

"I see," said Harry. "We don't have to land there, though, right?"

"No," said Hermione. "If these Death Eaters are being tracked, somehow, then just being nearby will be enough. We'll want to take these particular prisoners to the fortress north, anyway, to remove their arms before they're brought back here."

"What happens if you twy to powtkey to a place that's warded agins it?" asked Ron.

"I believe it just doesn't work," answered Hermione. "They'd have to use portkey targets since they've never been inside our northern fortress. According to our goblin friends, they've set up the same wards as the ones at Gringott's so there shouldn't be a problem."

Harry and Hermione both stopped when they reached the intersection that led to the staff quarters. Ron stopped with them and they all looked at each other for a moment longer before Harry asked, "Aren't you going back to your flat, Ron?"

"I cand," said Ron. "Honey's kicked me oud fowr the night."

"Why?" asked Harry because Hermione had already guessed.

"She said it was to make the weddin night spessal," said Ron. He then added, unashamedly, "I don't like it."

"I wouldn't either," agreed Harry. "For one thing, the two of you have all the specifics of dealing with your lack of mobility figured out. Where are you supposed to stay to get that sort of care?"

"I was hopin to stay wid you two," answered Ron. He then affected an expectant smile.

"Can't help you," said an unswayed Hermione. "We have Greta for the night. She'll be in the spare room."

"Why issen she staywing in the guess suite with the Minista?" asked Ron.

"She wanted some time with her hero," said Hermione. "We have to pick her up from Dougal and Luna in the common room."

"Maybe they'd like to wash her," suggested Ron.

"I don't think Dougal should be in on giving her a bath," said Harry, confused.

"He meant watch her, not wash her," corrected Hermione. Ron nodded in exasperated agreement.

"Oh," said Harry. "That's probably more appropriate."

"It isn't more likely, though," said Hermione. "They don't have their own rooms, at least not yet, and Greta's already expecting to stay with us. That's also the arrangement to which her grandfather agreed. I think you're out of luck, Ron."

Ron slumped his shoulders in defeat. "I suppose the dowm wond be too bad."

"Why not ask Charlie if you could share his flat for the night," said Harry, surprisingly coming up with a good idea.

"That's a good idea," said Hermione. "You'd have a bit more privacy than the dorm and Charlie's family. If you needed some 'special' help, it would probably be better with a brother."

"Thas what you thing," said Ron, nevertheless cheering up a bit at this slightly better option.

"Winky," said Harry. Lately, Winky had managed to calm down a bit with the current dearth of major Death Eater activity.

"Yes, Master," said Winky, popping into the hallway a moment later.

"Winky," continued Harry, "could you..." Harry stopped. Winky looked like death warmed over. Not since Dobby had died had she seemed so... so... He didn't have the words to describe her apparent decline into despair.

"What's the matter, Winky?" asked Hermione, kneeling down beside her. "You look terribly worried about something."

"Winky is being worried, Mistress," agreed the elf, "but Winky is keeping her secrets. Winky isn't being saying more, Mistress." She clammed right up and, true to her word, remained silent.

"Would it help if you talked to us about it?" asked Harry. "Maybe we could..."

"Winky is keeping Winky's secrets!" shouted Winky, quite distraught.

"Fine," said Harry, backing up a step, reflexively. Now Winky looked both worried and mad so Harry decided to let it go. "We called to asked if you could take Ron down to see his brother Charlie."

"Yes, Master," said Winky, attempting to ignore her recent outburst. She held out her hand toRon.

"Remember,Winky," said Hermione, "you'll have to use the new waypoints to get into the Fortress."

"Winky is remembering, Mistress," said Winky, "but Winky isn't being going there."

"I thought we had asked you to do just that," said Harry.

"Winky is being asked to take Master Ron to be with Master Ron's brother Charlie, Master," said Winky. "Master Ron's brother Charlie is being with Hagrid."

"Oh," said Harry and Ron, together. "In that case, you'd better stay with Ron in case he needs further help getting to Charlie's flat," finished Harry.

"Yes, Master," said Winky. She didn't exhibit the usual enthusiasm when obeying a direct order from Harry.

"Winky," said Hermione, gently, "are you sure you don't want to tell us..."

"Winky is keeping Winky's secrets," sobbed Winky, tears falling from her eyes. "Winky is being a good house elf."

"Let's just leave it for now," said Harry, talking to Hermione. "Go ahead, Winky."

Winky regained most of her control and silently raised her hand to Ron's. "Less go, Winky," said Ron, taking her hand. After a moment of concerned looks all around, they popped away.

"We may have to send her someplace to recover after all," said Hermione. "I'm a bit surprised. She's been doing so well, lately." They continued on up towards the Gryffindor common room.

"I thought so, too," said Harry. "I wonder what set her off, this time."

"Who knows," said Hermione. "You can never tell with her. Maybe she didn't iron your socks the right way."

Harry smiled. As they continued on their way, he considered that she was still probably having problems dealing with the death of Dobby. It could very well be that she came across his quidditch themed socks and she just had a flashback. He would have to try to find out what the problem was, somehow.

Meanwhile, in the library of the Dark Lord's lair...

'House elves are incapable of knowingly allowing harm to befall their master, his or her family or their master's property. A house elf, however, is only allowed to use the minimum force necessary to prevent such events from occurring. A house elf is not allowed to harm any other witch or wizard, or cause damage to their property unless it is required to fulfill their duty as noted previously, regardless of any orders given by their master.' Voldemort was not happy with the course that his research had taken. He sipped his tea as he browsed through the fourth book of the day. It occurred to him that he was probably doing more technical reading than he had done since he had left Hogwarts. How ironic that fighting a schoolboy required so much study. Nevertheless, he had discovered the reasons behind his failure to control his newest slave. He had assumed that some residual loyalty remained for her former master and he had to merely use that loyalty to manipulate the annoying elf. By threatening to kill the quivering oaf that had been her previous owner if she refused to stun him, he thought that logic would compel her to choose the lesser of two evils and she would obey. When she still refused, he had to fulfill his threat lest she assume he would always back down. Now, at least, he knew why she had not cooperated. For the time being, she could resume her normal role of cook while he pursued the means of using her as he wished. There must be a way to unleash her abilities because Potter had found it. Potter's elves had none of the restrictions that Dinky had. Somewhere in his books, there must be the answer. He continued reading.

In the Gryffindor common room...

Boom! The explosion reverberated around the common room. A few students looked up at the sudden disruption to their studies but quickly returned to their books upon realizing the cause.

"That's fifty points to me, right, Harry?" asked an excited Greta. She had picked up the main thrust of the game of Exploding Snap fairly quickly.

"That's right, Greta," said Hermione, "and that means we win, again." She and Greta had been playing as a team against Harry and Dougal. Luna had watched with her hands perpetually over her ears and a smile on her face. "I believe that means that Harry owes us twenty-five minutes of flight time." She wasn't particularly happy with this last pronouncement but hid it fairly well for the sake of the child.

"We'll do that after the wedding, tomorrow," said Harry, looking at his watch. "Uh, oh. We said we'd have you in bed by nine o'clock and it's already past ten. Time for bed." He stood up to forestall any arguments.

"Oh, Harry," whined Greta, "do we have to?"

"Of course not," said Harry. "We don't have to fly if you don't want to."

"Not that!" shouted Greta, excitedly. "I meant I don't want to go to bed, yet."

"Sorry," said Hermione. "Grampa's counting on us to look after you."

"Okay," agreed Greta, grumpily, "but I want to say goodnight to Grampa, first."

This seemed reasonable so Harry and Hermione agreed. Since their destination was publicly announced, they couldn't just leave from the Head's Suite. With a quick thanks to Luna and Dougal, they left through the portrait hole to find an isolated spot from which to apparate.

"Slider," said Harry.

"What can Slider be doing for Harry Potter?" asked Slider.

"Is the Minister still visiting with the Headmistress?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider.

"Thanks, Slider," said Harry. "I can take it from here." Slider popped off.

"Now hold on tight to my arm," directed Harry to Greta. "We'll go say goodnight to Grampa, but then it's straight to bed."

"Okay," said Greta, grasping Harry's arm tightly. Hermione did the same and they were off.

Harry knocked on the office door. There was no answer. He knocked again with the same response. Listening, they heard muffled voices that did not approach.

Harry reached out with his enhanced perceptions and found that Rufus and Minerva were both in her parlor. That wasn't surprising since the furniture was much more comfortable. Harry pushed the door open and the three of them entered the office.

They walked over to the parlor door and were prepared to knock when the voices, clearer now due to the lack of an intervening oak door, came through loud and clear.

Someone was shouting, "Get your filthy paws off her, you damned hairy..."

"Albus; please!" shouted back another, more feminine voice. It was probably that of Minerva but the emotion behind it made it harder to recognize.

"Someone's attacking Minerva," said Harry in alarm, thinking she was calling for help.

Harry," said Hermione just before the door flew in and crashed against the opposite wall.

"Hold it right; oh, I'm terribly sorry." Harry quickly averted his eyes and turned back out towards the office. Hermione was in his way and, due to having placed her hand over her eyes in embarrassment, didn't see he wanted to pass.

"Grampa!" shouted Greta, running over to give him a hug. She had a bit of trouble with this since a still shocked Minerva was laying across her sofa using the Minister as her pillow, as well as cushions. Greta took up the only unoccupied position on the outer edge of the real cushions and managed to get her kiss goodnight. When she stepped back, she said, "You two must be very tired. Maybe you should go to bed, too."

"I believe they were just thinking the same thing," said an obviously bitter Dumbledore.

"We'd get a little more privacy, at least," said Minerva. Then, gaining better control of her temper, she said, "I assume there's a good reason for destroying my rooms, Harry." She was able to sit up, albeit at the expense of pushing a bit too hard against the Minister's stomach, and regain some of her normal decorum. Rufus, however, merely leaned back with his hands behind his head and remained silent. He did manage to waggle his eyebrows and smirk when he caught Harry's eye.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," said Harry. "We just came by to let Greta say goodnight and it sounded like you were being attacked."

"Manhandled was more like it," said Dumbledore.

"Albus!" shouted Minerva, once more. She then tried to think of something to say that would offset reality. Failing at that, she merely said, "Well, that's understandable, I suppose. As you can see, though, I am perfectly alright."

"Yes, Headmistress," said Harry, trying to think of some closing words. "Just let me fix your door and we'll be on our way."

"Don't worry about that," said Minerva. "I'll take care of it in..."

"It won't take a second," insisted Harry.

"Really," said Minerva, "it isn't a big deal."

"But..."

"Get out, Potter," said McGonagall, forcefully. She seemed to be quite insistent so Harry, Hermione and Greta made a hasty retreat.

October 18th, 1997

Breakfast in the Great Hall.

If Minerva and Rufus were embarrassed by the previous evening's revelations, they were hiding it magnificently. They sat together on the professor's dais, chatting away without any apparent concern over how the students would react.

Ron floated up and sat across from Hermione. Apparently, he had made it through the night without any major difficulties and without delay, he was soon working on his breakfast like a man possessed. Since that was the way he always ate, nobody noticed. What did draw the attention of many was his lack of an eating partner.

"Isn't Honey having breakfast?" asked Harry.

"I don'd know," said Ron. "I'm still banished." He didn't seem too concerned.

"She's probably getting ready," suggested Hermione.

"She isn't getting married for another three hours," said a shocked Harry. "How long does it take to put on a wedding dress?"

"Four hours," said Hermione.

"Foe owas?" asked Ron, incredulously. "Why so long?" He was interested enough to slow his intake of cauldron cakes.

"If memory serves," said Hermione, "you have to bathe, shave, style and paint before you even touch the dress."

"Paint?" asked Ginny. She, too, had to leave soon to prepare for her part but didn't recognize that step.

"Makeup," explained Hermione. "Preliminary stages, of course. Once the dress is on, you finish up with that and touch up the hair, put the sixpence in you shoe and add any accessories. Then there's the last minute alterations, adjustments, and that sort of thing."

"Put a sixpence in your shoe?" asked Harry. "What are you on about?" Many others in the vicinity had similarly turned to hear the explanation for this insanity.

"You know," said Hermione, impatiently, "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and a silver sixpence in your shoe."

"I repeat," said Harry, "what are you on about?" There then followed a fifteen minute lecture on Victorian wedding traditions that would have gone on much longer if not for the fortuitous arrival of Charlie.

"Enjoying your last meal?" he asked as he slapped Ron playfully on the back.

"It's still almost three hours until the wedding," said Hermione. "The chances of Ron not having a meal between now and then are fairly low."

"At least one," agreed Harry.

"True enough," said Charley, grabbing a handful of bacon. He then noticed the rest of the available offerings and, being a Weasley himself, sat down in Honey's spot.

"Not to be rude, Charlie," said Ginny, "but what inspired you to join us today?"

"Oh," said Charlie, "I just wanted to warn you that Hagrid might be more..." he waved his fork in circles while trying to think of the correct word, "more emotional than normal, today."

"He's never really been one to keep that sort of thing in check, anyway," said Harry. "What makes today any different?"

"Besides Ron and Honey's wedding," answered Charlie, "in which I would expect him to give Mum a run for the money in terms of tear production, I made the mistake of letting him know that his egg will be hatching in a day or so. I'm guessing tomorrow or Monday. I'd expect he'll be running back and forth between the castle and his hut all day long."

"How do you think he'll do with following the instructions?" asked Hermione.

"That poor book has been read to death," said Charlie, referring to 'The Care and Handling of the Australian Reefskimmer'. "He's probably as informed as he's going to get. Initial discipline is the only stumbling block that I can see. A dragon takes a firm hand to keep under control."

"Don't I know it," said Hermione, exasperated. She glanced sharply at Harry, who grinned guiltily.

Along the outer walls, Luke's assistant for the day, Petunia, busied herself with watering and adjusting the newly planted window boxes. With the sun shining through the windows on the East side, they changed the general impression of the Great Hall quite a bit. With the weather cooperating, she had opened the windows a bit and the breeze distributed the mixture of fragrances throughout the hall. She was humming gaily as she shooed an errant insect away from a particularly alluring delphinium. Luke was working on some freestanding displays that would surround the makeshift altar at the front of the hall. Soon, the real transformation would take place as the seating would be adjusted to accommodate the attendees of the wedding and the festive decorations would be put into place.

After breakfast, Harry and Ron left for the Head's Suite to prepare Ron for his wedding. Hermione assumed this would involve Harry reassuring Ron that he wouldn't regret his decision, offering bad advice and snacking and joking for the first two hours followed by Harry helping Ron get into his dress robes about fifteen minutes before the ceremony. Men had it so easy. Hermione, meanwhile, would check on things in the Fortress. She didn't, after all, have a part in the service.

"Mistress Hermione," said Jumper when she entered the office, "a prisoner is being wanting to be speaking with Harry Potter." Jumper had, with practice, become proficient enough with making decisions to handle the occasional shift in the office.

"Which one was it?" asked Hermione.

"The prisoner is being Fenrir Greyback, Mistress Hermione," said Jumper. "He is also being wanting to be having quills, ink and parchment, Mistress Hermione."

"I wonder why he wants those," mused Hermione.

"Perhaps Mistress could be asking Prisoner Greyback, Mistress," suggested Jumper.

"Thanks," said Hermione, deciding that Jumper wasn't trying to be funny; just helpful. She left the office and went to see the werewolf.

"Where's Potter?" he asked when she approached his cell. He was still weak from his latest transformation but apparently had enough pent up energy to pace his cell.

"I'm right here," said Hermione. Why couldn't people remember that she, too, was a Potter?

"My business is with Harry," said Greyback, harshly.

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to wait," responded Hermione. "He's busy and probably won't have time for you until tomorrow or Monday."

"No!" snapped Greyback. "It's important."

"Tell me and I might arrange something," said Hermione, unmoved by Greyback's expressed urgency.

Greyback thought for a second and said, "Fine. I want to be cured like Lupin."

"Oh," laughed Hermione, "is that all? I'm afraid you've been misinformed. Harry isn't ..."

"He WILL!" shouted Greyback. He was panting from the exertion but wasn't about to stop now. "I'll do anything he wants. I've known Riddle for years. I have information. I'll trade it all for a cure."

"So that's why you want the writing supplies," said Hermione. "I'm not sure it'll be enough. It is a very dangerous procedure."

"Riddle's dangerous, too," said Greyback. "So's Potter, for that matter. Tell me what type of information you want and I'll give it to you. I'll tell all I know. All I want is Potter's word that when it's enough, he'll cure me."

"This is your lucky day," said Hermione. "I'm the Potter that you'll have to convince. I almost stopped him from curing his Dad's oldest friend. You'll have to convince me that it's worth the risk. I'll give you the parchment and quills, though. Here's a clue on what we want. We need to know about odd trips he took and unusual items he might have sought. The more secretive he was, the more likely it is what we're looking for."

"I'll do it," said Greyback, immediately. "I know much. If you're the one I'm dealing with, though, give me your word that I have a chance or I won't help."

"There is information that would be worth the risk," conceded Hermione. "If we are able to achieve our most secret goal due to your help, I'll ask Harry to cure you. In the end, though, it will be up to him."

"Fair enough," said Greyback. "I'll start now." He looked around the cell. "A desk of some sort would help." He was in one of the small cells, of course.

"I can do better than that," said Hermione. "Jumper."

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," said Jumper a moment later.

"Prepare one of our..." began Hermione. She thought a moment and, making a command decision as Harry would put it, said, "large cells. Make sure there is a supply of quills, ink and parchment. When it is ready, transfer this prisoner into it."

"Yes, Mistress," said Jumper and he popped away.

"I'll take a chance with you," said Hermione. "Harry always said you might be useful, someday. Now's your chance to prove it."

"I will," said Greyback.

"You realize, don't you," asked Hermione, "that you won't be released in any event?"

"You're wrong," said Greyback. "I'll be freed from the only prison that counts."

October 18th, 1997

Just before the wedding

"Courage, Ron," said Harry. He could feel Ron's back tense as shivers went up his spine. They were seated, as they had arrived, with Ron on his carpet, sitting as normal, and Harry leaning against him, facing backwards. Harry could have apparated them both, or even more astonishingly, he could have walked besides his best mate as he entered the Great Hall. That, of course, wouldn't have been like either of them so they silently, and mutually, agreed that the casual approach was best. The underlying impression, though hidden to the two friends, was clear to those with eyes to see; as always, they were covering each other's backs.

Sitting in the second row were the Weasley brothers with, when available, their wives. Hermione sat with them as an honorary Weasley wife. It was a bit of a stretch, she thought, but hardly inappropriate. The unusual part for her was that she wasn't sitting with Harry and it felt very weird. They had sat together almost constantly for the past six years. To suddenly be in the same room and not be together helped to emphasis to her, not for the first or last time, how blind she had been not to have realized the connection she and Harry shared. Oh, well. They had a lifetime to look forward to. She could watch the proceedings as a bystander, this time. She sat next to Tonks who, oddly enough, wasn't sitting next to Remus. Instead, the auror and the ex-werewolf book ended Fred and George. Apparently, there was some concern, unjustified, no doubt, that they might cause a bit of trouble. Remus and Tonks had been recruited to reprise the same role they had during Harry and Hermione's wedding. The twins looked innocent enough, right now, although they had long been able to fake that. They both sat with their arms crossed and expectant smiles on their faces; casually waiting with the rest of them.

The general clamor in the Great Hall while waiting for the ceremony to start was to be expected. The many conversations tended to mask each other in a symbiotic blanket of privacy. As the stated hour approached, however, one conversation rose in volume while its subject caught the interest of those nearby, creating a gradually expanding zone of enthralled listeners.

"I'm just on pins and needles," said Molly. "This wedding, of course, coming so quickly and then there won't be a moment's rest before we crank it up another notch. I mean; grandparents! It's a whole new level, if you ask me. I've already knitted three blankets. It's lucky that Honey will be on Summer Break when the little tyke's born. That'll give her time to recover and the four of us the opportunity to divvy up the babysitting."

"I know," gushed Nesta across the aisle, in turn. "I've made about a dozen little outfits, myself. I know that the odds are against it, but I just couldn't resist making a tiny dress, just in case."

"Oh, I know what you mean," replied Molly. "I was so happy when Ginny was born, not that I don't love my sons, but every mother hopes for at least one daughter."

"Oh, I agree," said Nesta. "I think Luke, like most fathers, was hoping for a son, sooner or later, but ..."

Fortunately, the music switched to the traditional "Bridal Chorus" from Wagner's Lohengrin. Everyone turned to see if the bride was, indeed, coming.

"Good luck," whispered Harry as he deftly dropped off the end of the carpet onto the floor. He straightened his robes and stepped to Ron's side. The first young lady coming down the aisle did so, not with the usual clumsy and overly slow step-wait-step-wait that is required when trying to sync up with the traditional dirge, but with a cut-time improvised dance while scattering rose petals on the floor. To be honest, she wasn't scattering the flowers so much as flinging them with gusto, the result being that both she, and anyone who happened to be within three seats of the aisle, were soon covered in flowery detritus.

After she had performed her duty, Greta attempted to run to her Grampa, who was sitting in the Headmaster's chair while waiting his turn. With a wave of his hand and the quick intervention of Minerva, who was sitting next to Molly and Arthur, Greta was directed to her seat between Minerva and Poppy.

By this time, the next woman in the procession had made it a third of the distance towards the dais. She would have preferred to emulate the little girl and make her way in short order to the front but her mother would kill her. As she passed by the passed-over Hermione, she noticed the older woman nodding her head in time to the music as she feigned falling asleep. 'Don't make me laugh' she thought, trying to resist the urge. Hermione smiled at the last second and Ginny had to follow suit. She took her position opposite Harry and Ron.

Everyone turned to watch for the bride as the music made a decisive da capo to the start of the tune. Everyone stood to get a good view. They needn't have bothered. With thundering footsteps, they all first heard, and then saw, as Hagrid came into view.

"Charlie!" he boomed. "IT'S HATCHING!" He then realized where he was and what he had interrupted. Perhaps having Honey glaring at him in the doorway wearing her wedding dress was a sufficient clue.

"Now?" called Charlie from his position in the midst of his brothers.

"Er, yeah," said Hagrid, a bit more subdued. "I gotta go, Charlie. Maybe it'll still be goin' on when yer 'er done 'er." He quietly left but quickly resumed his thunderous running; anxious, no doubt, to return to his hut.

Honey waved her bouquet of roses over her head, trying to get the attention of Flitwick. When he saw her, she spun her finger around in circles. He got the drift and began to play the song on his magical keyboard from the top. Honey took Luke's arm as they tried again.

Twelve notes into it, Charlie jumped up in resignation and, quickly brushing by Bill and Fleur before his mother could catch hold of him, walked briskly towards the door. "Sorry," he called back towards his family, "I've got lots of brothers but might never get another chance to see a dragon egg hatching." With that, he evaded an increasingly volatile Honey and left.

Honey turned to Flitwick once more, but before she could make any sort of arrangement, several exclamations could be heard centering on the quickly deduced fact that a dragon was hatching in or near Hagrid's house. Apparently, Charlie wasn't the only one who had this particular siren song because fully twenty of the attendees of the wedding surreptitiously followed as quickly as they could.

For reasons unknown to her, Hermione watched Fred and George smile broadly at Remus as they said, Fred first, "We didn't have anything to do with this," followed by George adding, "Can't blame it on us."

The music started again, this time a bit faster, perhaps in order to try to get the bride down the aisle before her water broke. Honey stalked forward, dragging Luke along and forcing a smile as she tried to keep her newly acquired Weasley temper in check. She made it and took her position next to Ron as Luke took his seat next to his wife. Nesta quickly chased him back next to his daughter. Again, George and Fred had happy, yet smug, smiles.

Rufus stood and approached the small group in front of him. He began by saying, "Friends and family of Honey and Ron; welcome and thank you for being here on this important day. We are gathered together to celebrate the very special love between Ron and Honey by joining them in marriage. Marriage is an act of faith and it requires great love and complete trust to pledge oneself to share one's life with just one person, forsaking all others. All of us need and desire to love and to be loved. And the highest form of love between a man and a woman is in a relationship where neither one has any desire to be with anyone else."

Perhaps sensing that the Minister of Magic, being a politician, might make an afternoon of it, several people began to shift uneasily in their seats.

"To make your relationship work ," continued Rufus, "will take more than love. It will take trust and knowing in your heart that you want only the best for each other."

More shuffling and more than a little impolite murmurs of discussion were heard. McGonagall glanced around the hall and most of the disturbance abated.

"Ron," asked Rufus, "Is it your intent to devote all of yourself to Honey, and to Honey only, in marriage?"

"I do," said Ron. There were some suppressed chuckles at this.

"It was a yes or no question, Ron," whispered Harry.

"Oh," said Ron. "I men yes." He started to blush. Hermione thought that this was a bad omen. Ron had buggered up the first question.

Not missing a beat, Scrimgeour turned to Honey and asked, "Honey; is it your intent to devote all of yourself to Ron, and to Ron only, in marriage?"

"It is," said Honey.

"Youwr suppose to say yes or no," whispered Ron.

Rufus leaned in and said, to Ron, "'It is' is also fine, Ron."

"Sowry," said Ron.

Moving on, Scrimgeour asked, mostly to Honey, "Who stands here with you today?"

"I do," said Luke, demonstrating his command of the English language by managing to kid Ron while giving an acceptable response.

There followed more disturbances from the well wishers and one audible exclamation of "Where are they coming from?"

"Do you agree with and support you daughter's decision to be married to this man?" asked Rufus, adding to the situation by putting just a hint of incredulity into the question.

"Well," said Luke, actually surprised at the question and giving it some thought.

"Daddy," said Honey, after a few seconds, bringing him back out of his reverie.

"Oh," said a startled Luke. "Sure; I suppose."

Honey turned Luke around and gave him a push towards Nesta.

"I think it's already in the bag," said Fred to George in a low voice.

"What are you going to buy with your share?" asked George of Fred in a whisper.

"Now," said Scrimgeour, "marriage is going to give you a whole new way to share your lives together as you stand to face the world, hand in hand. Marriage is always challenging. You will need all of your strength, courage and patience. And that's just for the ceremony." That part wasn't in the script but Rufus seemed to be in an exceptionally jovial mood for some reason.

Two students suddenly stood up and backed away from where they had been sitting. "There are bees!" exclaimed a young girl. "Lots of them." She swatted at one.

"Don't do that," suggested Luke, looking back. "You'll only make them..."

"Ouch!" shouted the girl, grabbing her hand. That set off several more screams and a general rush for the exit.

"Pay up," said Fred, turning to Remus. He held out his hand, expectantly.

"I'ma lershic," said Ron, spinning around in alarm. The tail end of his carpet managed to clip Honey's roses, flinging them forcefully off to the side and into the astonished hands of Minerva McGonagal.

Looking at the bouquet in shock, she said, "Damn," and cast about for someone to frame as being the actual 'bouquet catcher'. With Greta and Poppy being the only females available, she turned to the nurse who quickly raised her hands, saying, quite audibly, "You caught it fair and square, Minerva. I wish you both the best of luck."

Meanwhile, the older students managed to use some of the pest control spells they had learned over the years. With cries of "Vanque Apis Mellifera" and Repugno Insecticidae" or even "Get them off me! Get them off me!", the melee began to pick up steam as the earlier scouts returned from the hives with even greater numbers of worker bees, eager to open up the new vistas of flowers discovered just that morning.

"Close the windows," shouted Lupin, understanding the source of the wedding crashers. "They're attracted by the flowers."

Several students rushed to pull down the sashes with not a few being hit in the backs by their more impatient fellows who wished to achieve the same result with magic. George and Fred raised their arms above their heads triumphantly while Remus slumped into his seat, his head in his hands. Flitwick eventually saved the day by ingeniously charming the bees into having one-tenth of their original mass. They would float up harmlessly into the rafters until the spells wore off.

Rufus, deciding to move things along, plunged into the actual vows. He began, "Your marriage begins with the vows and promise you speak to one another today. Ron, do you love Honey willingly and completely, withholding nothing?"

Ron answered, "Yes."

"Will give her your deepest consideration of her feelings, desires and needs?"

"Yes."

"Will you be Honey's confidant, sweetheart, lover and most importantly, her best friend, from now on?"

"But Harry's my best friend."

The uncontrollable burst of laughter surprised everyone but there was no stopping it.

Harry didn't help when he quipped, "I'm pretty sure she'll be a lot friendlier tonight than I plan to be."

Honey, no longer encumbered by her bridal bouquet, performed an expert dual whack on the side of both of their heads.

"We should get double, the way things are going," mused George.

"I meant yes," said Ron.

"Good," said Rufus. "Now repeat after me. I, Ron, take you, Honey, to be my wife; to share all that I am; and all that I have; for better or worse; for richer or poorer; in sickness and in health; for as long as we both shall live."

Ron replied, "I do."

"You're supposed to repeat it," prompted Harry.

"I do. I do." obeyed Ron.

Rufus turned to Honey and said, "Are you sure you've thought this through?"

"That's not part of the ceremony," said Honey, already just about fed up with every man within twenty feet of her.

"It ought to be," responded Rufus. "Alright. Repeat after me. I, Honey, take you, Ron, to be my husband; to share all that I am; and all that I have; for better or worse; for richer or poorer; in sickness and in health; for as long as we both shall live."

Honey said, " I, Honey, take you, Ron, to be my husband; to, ah, let's see..." Some of the attendees had already turned red and fallen to the floor in euphoric agony.

"That's close enough," said Rufus. "You got the important part right. Let's move on. The wedding ring is a symbol of married love. The precious metals represent that your love is your most precious possession, and the unending circle symbolizes that your love may never cease. Ron, do you have a ring for Honey?"

"Yes," said Ron, pointing at his best man. "Harry's holdin it foe me."

"How fortunate," said Rufus. "Give me the ring, Harry." He held out his hand.

"There's a pair of them, actually," said Harry, handing the box to Rufus.

Rufus pulled out the smaller of the two and said to Ron, "Repeat after me. On second thought, just listen up. You're giving this ring to Honey as a symbol of your love. You want her to wear it as a sign to the world that she is your wife. Is that okay with you?"

"That sounds gweat," said Ron, smiling.

"Now put it on her ring finger," ordered Scrimgeour, "and say, with this ring, I thee wed."

Ron slipped the ring on Honey's finger, feeling a tingle in his chest as this first tangible evidence that he was actually almost married slid into position. He then said, slowly, but accurately, "With this ring, I thee wed."

Honey teared up and wrapped her arms around Ron in a huge embrace and giving him a kiss to write home about.

"Not yet," said Rufus, laughing. Honey and Ron slowly broke apart. "We have to do Ron, first." He held out the other ring to Honey. "Do you think you'll be able to remember your lines?"

Honey said, "Let's give it a go."

Rufus then said, "Repeat after me. Ron, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. Please wear it as a sign  
to the world that you are my husband. With this ring, I thee wed."

"She'll never make it," noted Ginny, observing how confused Honey looked after only half way through the prompt.

"Ron," began Honey, "I have a ring, here, that represents our marriage. You should wear it, now that you're my husband. With this ring, I thee wed." She slipped the ring on Ron's finger and they embraced, once again.

"And you thought she'd bugger it up," said Harry to Ginny.

Rufus said, " Now, therefore, in as much as you have spoken your vows to one another in the presence of these witnesses, and each of you has given and received a wedding ring, by the authority that I have from the magical people of Great Britain, it is my great honor to now declare that you are husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

"About bloody time," said Harry, stepping past Ron and reaching out for Honey.

"Hey," protested Ron. "I thing he mens me." Honey quickly backed around behind Ron.

"You had two goes already," said Harry. "Let someone else have a chance."

"Not a bad idea," agreed Rufus, loudly. He smoothed out his mustache as if in preparation.

"Rufus!", snapped McGonagall, menacingly.

"Harry," warned Hermione, threateningly.

"Pay up, Remus," commanded George and Fred, simultaneously as the wedding of Ron and Honey came to a close, as they had bet it would, in complete pandemonium without their having to lift a finger.


	72. Chapter 72

Chapter 72 - The Voice

October 18th, 1997

Early that evening, after they had snacked and danced themselves into near exhaustion, Harry, Ron, Honey and Hermione arrived at the small cottage at Number 19, Strangeway Avenue. Two of the four hadn't expected to be making this trip today. The third had other plans for how to spend the night. The fourth, however, wished to see her new house. If Ron had given it any thought, he would have appreciated the fact that she would be spending the next few months dedicating her time to fixing up their new home instead of attempting, as all new wives tend to do, to fix up her husband.

"I love the view," said Honey, standing on the front porch and looking out over the lake. They were about three blocks north of the main business district of Hogsmeade which put them about one hundred feet higher than the rooftop of the Three Broomsticks. This had the effect, of course, of giving them a spectacular view of the village. Behind them, the mountain sloped up gradually for a further two or so miles before it began its precipitous rise to the peak.

"Is okay," agreed Ron, noncommittally, "if you don't mind sweepin vistas."

"These are cobblestones, Ron," corrected Honey, indicating the walkway. "I don't think I'll have to spend too much time at it, though."

"Shall we take a look inside?" asked Hermione. It was Honey's wedding day and she had decided to let her insanity go uncontested.

"Of course," said Honey. She stopped at the door and looked at Ron, expectantly.

"I dond have the key," said Ron, misinterpreting her intentions.

"You're supposed to carry me across the threshold," said Honey.

"Oh, that," said Ron. "I suppose we could twy." He looked at Honey and lowered his carpet a bit. "Why dond you sit on my lap?"

"I guess it would be harder, if not downright dangerous, for you to try to carry me in your arms," conceded Honey. She stepped to his side and deftly turned around and sat down comfortably in Ron's lap, putting her left arm around his neck for support. They then rose and, with a kiss for luck, floated into their first house.

The two story cottage at the end of the unswept cobblestone walkway was, at best, thirty feet wide. As you stood just inside, you could see a smallish, but nicely lighted sitting room off to the left while the dining room, possibly large enough for eight, could be seen through an archway to the right. A short wall symbolically separated it from the kitchen. Back and to the left of the entryway, a door was ajar revealing a bathroom while a hallway leading to the back was next to the stairs to the second floor.

"Why, it's beautiful," exclaimed Honey. She dropped to her feet, the better to explore the various rooms. She quickly spun around to catch a glimpse of all within eyesight before running back to check the kitchen. From the squeals of delight, they all assumed she approved. Honey came running back and wrapped her arms around Harry, which he reciprocated, while giving him a very friendly kiss.

"Oh, thank you, Harry," she gushed. Another kiss. Full on the lips. Harry wasn't backing away, either.

"Back off, bi...," stated Hermione, before catching herself. "I mean, WE were happy to do it." She waited for Honey to respond. At the very least she wanted for Honey to remove her arms from around Harry's neck.

"I don't see what you're upset about," said Harry. "After all, you've kissed Ron."

Hermione reflexively looked at Ron upon hearing his name. He grinned and said, "Is true."

"We were dating, idiot," clarified Hermione. Ron and Harry both snickered while Honey looked a bit less amused at being reminded of her new husband's last romantic involvement. And on her wedding day.

"Perhaps we should take a look at the rest of the house," suggested Honey, finally releasing Harry and heading up the stairs. Ron followed with Harry and Hermione coming up behind.

"Watch your head, Ron," said Hermione, noticing him coming close at times where the walls apparently reached the roof line.

"That mide be a pwoblem," said Ron, noticing how many of the rooms had this unfortunate feature.

"We'll just arrange the furniture to keep you safe," said Honey, intent on not finding any fault with what she was seeing quite clearly as the perfect cottage for a young family.

"We'll need a lod of funiture," said Ron, prophetically. Although he was currently riding a carpet and could adjust his height, he instinctively still maintained his previous perspective from before his injuries. At almost six and a half feet tall, he only had about a five foot wide safe zone in each room.

"Maybe Harry could fix it," suggested Hermione. "Couldn't you make the ceiling higher?"

Harry looked up and seemed to want to agree but was hesitant. "I'm not sure," he said. "I've always made rooms wider or longer; never taller." With a few more thoughts he nodded to himself and said, "I guess I don't see it as being much of a difference. Let's give it a go."

Two and a half hours later...

"Boom!" The windows shook in the substantially larger sitting room where Ron and Hermione were playing Exploding Snap.

"That puts me over the top," said Hermione, triumphantly. "Off you go, then." She waited expectantly.

Ron, who had lost the last three games and, therefore, had already made the last two unsuccessful attempts at reasoning with Honey, reluctantly went to have another go. He had a bit more trouble than before in finding them, what with having larger and more numerous rooms in which to search. He found them in the second floor sun room. He took a tangential detour for a moment, wondering exactly how the outside of the house would look with so many windows in a magically enlarged inside. Shaking it off, he suggested, "Honey? Perhaps we should be lettin Harry and Hermione go home so they can go to bed." He wanted to get into bed, too, if it came down to it.

"Ron probably wants to get into bed, too," said Harry, coincidentally. "I think we've given it a good start for today." That was putting it mildly.

"I suppose," said a not entirely convinced Honey. "Let me show you out." She took a couple of steps before stopping and making a turn to the right. Two more steps and she looked about and said, "Perhaps you could show me out."

Ron lifted his wife onto the carpet and, with Harry walking behind, he floated around the corner to the stairway.

October 19th, 1997

Two O'Clock in the Morning...

"Master!" shouted Winky.

Harry and Hermione simultaneously, and unfortunately for them, symmetrically tried to leap from the bed in panic. The 'CRACK' of their heads colliding simulated the sound of a pair of billiard balls perfectly. This was more appropriate for Harry than Hermione, of course, but she mastered the motion to a larger degree and managed to flop back down with enough of a reversal of direction to roll off her side of the bed.

Harry, still checking his own skull for splinters, didn't feel compelled to laugh. He did decide to investigate Winky's outburst before his wife could find her wand and kill them both. "What's the matter, Win..." he began, forced into silence for a moment as the concussion began to take hold.

"Dinky is being hidden," cried Winky. "Dinky is..."

"Aunt Winky!" shouted Slinky, popping into the bedroom. "Momma is being gone!"

"Winky is being knowing," answered Winky, quickly. "Winky is being telling Master. Master is knowing what to be doing."

"What is we being doing to be helping Momma, Master?" asked Slinky, turning from Winky to Harry.

"I don't know what we is to be being doing," admitted Harry, confusedly.

"Just tell us what's going on," said Hermione, regaining her senses. "What do you mean when you say that Dinky is hidden?"

"Winky and Slinky isn't being hearing Dinky," explained Winky. "Dinky is being inside Winky and then Dinky is being gone." She finished just as the first tear hit the floor.

"Could something have happened to her?" asked Harry, quietly to Hermione.

"Do you think she might have..." began Hermione, realizing too late that she didn't want to finish this question in front of either Winky or Slinky.

"Died?" finished Harry, stupidly.

"MOMMA!" shouted Slinky, in total distress. She hugged her aunt with all of her strength.

"No, Slinky," said Hermione, immediately. "No. We just don't understand." She thought a moment and asked Winky, "Winky. You felt it when Dobby was dying. You felt it when he died. Did this feel the same or was it different in some way?"

"Dinky isn't being dying, Mistress," said Winky, perhaps calming herself in order to better help her niece. "Dinky is being stopping _The Voice _from coming to Winky and Slinky."

"The voice?" asked Harry and Hermione together.

"No," answered Winky. "_The Voice. The Voice_ is being the way house-elves is being talking to other house-elves when we is being far away."

"And Winky has stopped using the _Voice_?", asked Harry.

"Winky is being here, Master Harry," corrected Slinky. "It's Slinky's momma Dinky that we is being worried about."

"Sorry," said Harry. "So Dinky has stopped using the _Voice_?"

"Yes, Master," said Winky, "and it is being pronounced _The Voice_." She lowered her voice and raised her arms and spread her hands mystically for emphasis while saying it.

"Of course," said Hermione, trying not to laugh. "I take it that stopping _The Voice _isn't normal for house-elves."

"No, Mistress," answered Winky. "Without _The Voice_, house-elves isn't being able to be hearing their master calling."

"Really?" asked Harry. "Then why do it?"

"House-elves is only stopping_ The Voice _when our Masters is being ordering us, Master," answered Winky.

"Why would they do that?" asked Hermione.

"Winky isn't being knowing, Mistress," said Winky.

"Maybe we should go see Harvey," suggested Hermione.

"He must be asleep, at this hour," replied Harry, helpfully.

"I wasn't suggesting we leave now," said a long-suffering Hermione. "I meant sometime tomorrow, during our trip."

"Old Master isn't being talking to anyone, Mistress," said Slinky.

"Slinky," said Winky, sharply. "You might be being telling Dinky's new master's secrets."

"Dinky has a new master?" asked Hermione.

Winky said nothing. In fact, she seemed to be passively ignoring Hermione's question.

"Winky?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Master," replied Winky.

"Are you going to answer Hermione's question?" asked Harry.

"Was Mistress asking Winky the question, Master?" asked Winky, unsuccessfully trying to look surprised.

"Yes," answered Hermione, giving Winky the harshest look she had ever given a house-elf.

"Well, Mistress," stalled Winky, "Dinky is being having a new master."

"Why did Harvey sell Dinky so soon after selling Slinky?" asked Harry. "You'd think he would need to keep at least one house-elf."

"Winky isn't being knowing why Dinky's old master is being selling Dinky, Master," answered Winky, glad that she didn't have to answer another question that would reveal her sister's new master's secrets.

"Slinky," said Hermione. "Why don't you think that Harvey would be able to answer a few questions about this?"

Slinky looked at Winky for guidance. Winky reluctantly nodded her head to her and Slinky answered, "Old Master is being dead, Mistress." She looked pretty sad at giving this news.

"Dead?" asked Harry. "Slinky, did Dinky's new master kill Harvey?"

"Yes, Master," said Slinky.

"Do you know why?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, Mistress," answered Slinky. She remained silent after that.

"Could you tell us, please," asked Harry. He was becoming a bit annoyed at this whole elf 'keeping your master's secrets' thing although he knew that he also relied on it.

After a moments thought, Winky said, "Winky and Slinky is being needing to be asking the house-elf Parliamentarian about this, Master."

"The who?" asked Harry.

"Parliamentarian," repeated Hermione. "That's the person in a government or organization who is the most knowledgeable about the rules."

"Great," said Harry. "I'll tell you what, Winky. You may go and discuss this with the, ah, parliamentarian. We'll want as much information as you can give us about this whole deal. Let us know what you can and then we'll move on." That seemed to be the best course to follow for the time being.

"Yes, Master," said Winky and she and Slinky both popped off.

"That must be what was bothering Winky all this time," said Hermione.

"I would suppose so," agreed Harry. "You don't think that a Death Eater bought Dinky, do you?"

"I don't know," replied Hermione. "We'll just have to wait until Winky finds out what she may tell us. Until then, let's get back to sleep."

"Yes," said Harry, suggestively. "About that. I'm sort of wide awake, now. Maybe we need to..." He trailed off.

"Use up some of our energy?" suggested Hermione, raising her eyebrow. "Works for me."

Ten minutes later...

"Master," said Winky as she and Slinky popped back into the bedroom.

"Not now, Winky," gasped Hermione.

"Come... back... in... the... morning..." said Harry, between exertions.

"Yes, Master," said Winky, covering Slinky's eyes and popping them both off.

October 19th, 1997

In McGonagall's office, just after breakfast...

"So this person isn't a Death Eater but hangs around with them," said Harry, restating one of the facts, yet again.

"Yes, Master," said Winky.

"But he doesn't work for them," added Hermione.

"No, Mistress," said Winky.

"And he killed Dinky's old master when she refused to stun him," said Remus.

"Yes, Master Remus," said Winky.

"Sounds like a nice chap," offered Tonks.

"Yes," agreed Minerva. "Who could it be, though?" Winky could not give the name of Dinky's new master but could answer specific questions in a limited way.

"Does he take orders directly from Voldemort?" asked Scrimgeour, suddenly inspired.

Winky pondered this question. Does a person take orders from themselves? "I isn't being sure, Minister," she finally decided.

"That's funny," said Harry. "You seem to be pretty well informed, otherwise. Let's see; can you tell us if he talks to Voldemort on a regular basis?"

"No, Master," said Winky.

"No, you can't tell us or no, he doesn't talk to Voldemort?" clarified Harry.

"No, he doesn't talk to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Master," replied Winky.

"This is crazy," said an exasperated Hermione.

"Just a moment," said Luna. She and Dougal were invited mainly to find out what Dougal might know. "You weren't sure if your sister's new master took orders from Lord Voldemort but you are sure that they don't speak to each other. Why is that?"

Winky saw an opportunity to answer an unrelated-to-her-sister type question and took it. "Winky wasn't sure if a person is being able to be taking orders from themselves, Mistress Luna," she answered.

Hermione slapped her forehead and said, "Voldemort bought Dinky. He lives with the Death Eaters but doesn't work for them. They work for him." She turned to Luna and said, "Thanks, Luna. That was brilliant."

"Brilliant, yes," said Remus, "but troubling. Voldemort, himself, buys a house-elf. Not any house-elf, mind you, but the sister of Harry's house-elf."

"That is a bit of a coincidence," agreed Harry. "How could he know that, though?"

"Harvey," said Hermione. "He was ecstatic about meeting you. The fact that you had bought his elf wasn't anything that he would keep secret. He said himself that he couldn't wait to tell his friends. If I remember correctly, he also tried to imply some sort of a family tie since Winky and Dinky were sisters."

"You're probably right," agreed Harry. "It wouldn't take long for the wrong sort to hear of that. But why would they make it such a priority? Buying a house-elf, even the sister of mine, wouldn't be so important that Voldemort would want to do it personally."

"It might make sense," said Remus. "From what Winky's implied, it seems that Voldemort has begun to think of the offensive uses of house-elves. We don't know who, but one of Voldemort's lackeys spent quite a bit of time to try to get her to stun her old master. When that didn't work, he directly ordered her to do so, threatening to kill him if she didn't obey. Yet she still resisted. He should have known that she couldn't obey him. If he wanted Huntlinger dead, he could have done it at his house. He must have thought there was a chance."

"Only free elves is being able to be attacking wizards," said Slider. "Perhaps He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is forgetting."

"Or doesn't know it," said Hermione. "He thinks Dinky could, under certain circumstances, though, or he wouldn't have wasted his time."

"He saw free elves attacking wizards," said Harry, suddenly. "At least he heard reports. When we fought in Diagon Alley, the ones we caught were bait. We knew the whole hearing was a setup so that I'd be in the area but we didn't know why. They fought pretty effectively until we got there. Once Slider and his team arrived and saved the day, the real Death Eaters just observed as the still Dark Marked idiots were engaged. They wanted to get information on our tactics and abilities. Apparently, they succeeded."

"He succeeded in learning about your use of house-elves," said Rufus. "He doesn't know why they'll fight for you, though. I doubt he ever will. Freeing Dinky would be the last idea he'd ever come up with."

"It wouldn't be being working, anyway," said Slider. "Free house-elves must be choosing to fight."

"That's true," said Hermione, proudly. "Dinky would never do that."

"What will she do, though?" asked Dougal. When he had everyone's attention, he continued. "We're getting a lot of information out of Winky since they're sisters. What makes you think Voldemort isn't doing the same thing?"

"That's true," said Tonks. "All he'd have to do is ask her why she won't stun a helpless wizard and she'd tell him it's because she wasn't free."

"As Slider has already said," said Minerva, "that wouldn't do him any good. Dinky wouldn't choose to hurt anyone."

"Kreacher would," said Harry. "If he were free, he'd fight for Voldemort in a heartbeat. There must be a lot of house-elves who are evil, like him. If Voldemort finds out how to get them to fight for him, watch out."

"We might have to make a trip to Woolstaston, after all," said Rufus. They had briefly discussed the current headquarters of Voldemort when Winky asked when they were leaving to rescue her sister. She was disappointed in their enthusiasm for the idea, to put it mildly.

"But Dinky wasn't kidnaped," countered Hermione, "she was bought. She couldn't leave with us even if we did manage to break in and find her."

"She'd fight us tooth and nail, actually," agreed Remus.

"You misunderstand," said Rufus, gravely.

"You intend to, ah," began Luna, looking at Winky, "well, keep her from revealing what we've been discussing to Voldemort by ..." she trailed off.

"It might have to be done," said Rufus. "It took your elves about ten seconds to rout the Death Eaters, competent or not, at Diagon Alley. Letting Voldemort discover a way to do the same with evil house-elves could cost untold numbers to be killed."

"You is being talking about killing Dinky," said a shocked Winky. "You is wanting to be murdering Winky's sister, Dinky!" She grew wide-eyed and backed away from them all.

"That's just a remote possibility, Winky," said Remus, trying to calm her down. "I'm sure we'll come up..."

"Master!" interrupted Winky. "They is wanting to be killing Dinky! Master won't be letting them, will Master?" She looked at Harry with her panic rising by the moment.

"Winky," began Harry, pausing to look around the room before appraising her state of sanity. "Winky. Of course I won't allow harm to come to Dinky. We'll think up another way to help her. It just might take some time." It didn't escape him that Luna was viewing him through suddenly shocked and somewhat disappointed eyes.

"In the meantime," said Hermione, "as a precaution, if Dinky tries to use _The Voice _to contact you, don't reveal anything at all about anything we're doing or saying. Can you do that without completely shutting off_ The Voice_?"

"You is being talking of _The Voice _with outsiders, Winky?" asked a suddenly serious Slider in an accusatory tone.

"Winky is only telling what wizards is already being knowing, Slider," said a chastened and somewhat subdued Winky. "Winky is needing to be telling Master what is being happening to Dinky."

"Share with Slider what is being said," commanded Slider. He then remained silent as he stared at Dinky while she returned the favor.

About twenty seconds later, Slider said, "Winky is almost being telling too much. He then directed his attention to the humans. "Wizards and witches is not to be asking more about _The Voice_." It was, perhaps, the first time in living memory that a sane and calm house-elf had given an order to witches and wizards; indeed, to the Minister of Magic himself, and expected to be obeyed.

"Slider!" said McGonagall, sharply. "How dare you speak to us, to me, in that manner?" She was not amused.

"Slider is being sorry, Mistress," said Slider, humbly, "but it is being part of the house-elves enchantment that we is being keeping our secrets. The power of _The Voice _must be kept from wizards." He stood his ground as only a house-elf can.

Harry rose from his seat to walk over next to the Hogwarts Head Elf. "I understand," he said, leaning over and placing his hand on Slider's shoulder. "As much as I'd like to know more about _The Voice_, it is obviously a major elf secret." He then straightened back and put his hands together as if to gather his thoughts. "However, from the little we've seen demonstrated this morning, it is imperative that we know the amount of information that Lord Voldemort could obtain from Dinky if he ever learned to ask the right questions. We need to know if all elves know everything that any elf knows. We need to know how much danger we're in."

Slider said nothing. He gave the same blank stare he had used a moment before while Winky apparently revealed what she had told Harry and Hermione. Harry and the others waited patiently for what seemed like several minutes but in reality was only thirty seconds. "Slider understands Harry Potter's concerns," said Slider. "Slider is being telling Harry Potter what Harry Potter needs to be knowing as far as Slider is able."

"Fair enough," said Harry, sitting nearby in an unused chair.

"Winky and Dinky is being knowing what Dinky and Winky is wanting to be knowing because they is being sisters," he began. "Slinky is being knowing, too, because Slinky is being Winky's niece and Dinky's daughter. Slider is not knowing what other house-elves is knowing unless Slider and other house-elves is wanting to be knowing. Our master's secrets is okay to be being speaking of with _The Voice _but we is not being able to be not keeping other master's secrets when learned with _The Voice_. Winky is not being able to stop _The Voice _from Dinky without being stopping _The Voice _from everyone but Winky is not having to be talking back."

"I see," said Hermione. "We seem to be safe, then. As long as Winky and Slinky don't respond if Dinky calls, she won't be able to get any more information than she already knows."

"That is being correct, Mistress Hermione," said Slider.

"So why didn't Voldemort just do that?" asked Harry. "He could have just ordered Dinky to not answer when Winky or Slinky called. Why cut her off completely?"

"Are you sure he did?" asked Rufus. "Slider. Can you tell the difference between completely stopping the use of this voice or if a house-elf has just stopped responding to it?"

"Yes, Minister," said Slider. "Dinky has removed herself from the presence of _The Voice_."

"That's odd," said Hermione. "Ordering Dinky to do that does us more good than Voldemort."

"Maybe he didn't know all of his options," suggested Minerva. " I, for one, never heard of this whole _Voice_ concept before. It is very secret and might not be very well understood by him."

"Nor to us," agreed Harry. "For the time being, that is how it must remain. Winky. Slinky. You are both ordered to not answer Dinky if she calls and to notify us immediately if she tries. If the opportunity to remove her from the service of Voldemort presents itself, we shall do so but she will resist any forced rescue so that is currently not an option. I'm sorry, Winky."

"Winky understands, Master," said Winky, sadly. "Dinky is not being leaving her new master without a fight. Master might be being hurt."

"Fine, then," said Hermione. "Thanks for coming to us with this Winky. It has helped us greatly. You and Slinky may return to your normal duties.

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky and Slinky, together, just before popping off.

"Now," said Harry, "Hermione and I should probably be off on our tour of English landmarks."

"Sounds like fun," said Rufus. "Are you looking for anything in particular?" He was just making small talk but was still interested in the response.

"Of course," said Harry, without elaborating. "We should be back early this afternoon."

"Late tonight, you mean," countered Hermione. "Once you get to chatting with your little friends, it's all I can do to drag you away."

"I'm not all that bad," replied Harry. "However, it might be a bit longer today since I haven't had Ron to talk with. You don't have to stay, if you don't want to. "

"And leave you alone with four young lasses?" asked Hermione, rhetorically. "I don't think so."

"Caoimhe isn't all that young," said Harry. "Sorcha, on the other hand..."

"That'll be quite enough, Potter," said Hermione. "Perhaps we should keep you a bit closer to home. Headmistress. It was suggested last time that it might be our turn to play host to the herd. Do you think that would be acceptable some weekend?"

McGonagall had to think about that for a moment. "Herd?", she asked. "Oh, you're talking about those dragons, aren't you? The Hebridean Blacks you went to visit, I if remember correctly." It was starting to come back to her.

"Yes, Headmistress," answered Hermione. "Four males and four females."

"How would you be able to control them?" asked Rufus. "What if they decided to attack Hogsmeade?" He hadn't heard about how Harry's trip to check on communicating with the dragons of Muck had turned out.

"Why would they want to do that?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"Why would they..?" blustered Rufus. "Because they're dragons!" He seemed shocked at the question.

"Oh," laughed Hermione with Harry joining in. "They're all very sweet. They'd never hurt anyone."

Rufus didn't seem convinced so Harry continued. "We've decided not to make the full extent of the truth about dragons known to the general public to maintain any advantage that such knowledge might bring. In actual fact, they aren't half bad, once you get to know them. Once Hermione figured out how to talk to them, we..."

"Hermione can talk with them?" asked Rufus. "If I remember correctly, you were going to try to talk with them as a dragon."

"We did that," explained Harry. "I had a bit of trouble at first since I don't speak Scottish but..."

"The dragons speak Scottish?" asked Dougal, unable to remain silent any further.

"Of course," said Harry. "They live in Scotland."

"How silly of me," replied Dougal. Luna giggled.

"So how did Hermione learn to speak Scottish so quickly?" asked Minerva. She, of course, was fluent in her native tongue but had to concede that it would be hard for a foreigner, even Hermione, to pick it up in such a short period of time.

"I didn't have to," said Hermione. "Sionn taught them all to speak English. They're quite good at it."

"They learned to speak English?" asked Rufus. Getting back to the original subject, he asked, "English or Scotish, why hasn't any of them talked to anyone before this? All they seem to want to do is rip your head off."

"That's an illusion," explained Hermione, "although I'd have to admit it's a pretty effective one."

"The burnt bodies make it more believable," said Rufus, nodding. "That's what always fooled me."

"We're not kidding," laughed Harry. "We discovered that there's some sort of an enchantment at work that makes a dragon seem absolutely vicious whenever it says anything. Even though I'm not a real dragon, when I talk as a dragon, it scares the pants off everyone."

"And you figured out how to get around that?" asked Minerva, looking at Hermione.

"Yes," said Hermione. "I could arrange to do the same for you if you allowed them to visit."

"I wouldn't mind that, myself," said Rufus. "I'm not sure if I believe it, even now."

"You have my permission, Hermione," said McGonnagal. "In fact, if they wouldn't mind, it might be a possibility to have a Hogsmeade weekend when they're here. If we advertise the fact that eight other dragons besides Harry would be about, I doubt that we'd have any trouble from the Death Eaters."

"Probably not," agreed Rufus. "That reminds me, Harry. We've almost finished our examinations of the captured Death Eaters from Diagon Alley. It seems that they had their memories modified before the attack. Not much of any use was left."

"That's sort of what I expected, Minister," said Hermione. "We figure that they were used to just highlight our defenses, including the elves. It's not surprising that Voldemort would take steps to limit their usefulness to us." She quickly turned to Harry and snapped her fingers. "That reminds me. Greyback is currently writing down everything he knows about Voldemort and his associates. I decided to let him have a nice cell since he was cooperating and needed a desk to write on, anyway."

"Greyback is cooperating?" asked Rufus, more shocked than ever. "Fenrir Greyback?"

"Yes," said Hermione, surprised by the surprise in his tone. "He wants Harry to cure him. That'll be up to Harry, of course, but he could have the information we're looking for. At the very least, he should know a lot that would be useful."

"I imagine he would," said Harry. "I can't believe he'd be so eager without some sort of concrete bargain, though."

"Believe it," said Hermione. "He took my word that I'd ask you if he came through with his part of the bargain."

"Excuse me," said Minerva. "Could you let us in on what it is that Greyback expects Harry to do?"

"To cure him," said Harry. "He heard about...Oh, wait. You don't know. This is something else we're keeping a lid on, for now, at least. Last... let's see. It was on Monday evening, I think. That afternoon, I figured out how to cure Remus. We did that late that night. Greyback must have heard about it from someone." He paused and looked at his wife, who shrugged. "Anyway, Greyback found out and now he apparently wants to be cured, as well, and is willing to sell out Voldemort to do it."

"We're talking about curing his, ah..." said Rufus, struggling for the word. "His being a werewolf, aren't we?" He was asking it more out of disbelief than actual confirmation.

"Of course," said Hermione. "Minerva knows how Harry came by the ability, but he thought that he could cure lycanthropy using the same, well, ability. It involved a blood transfusion that was very dangerous, but in the end, he was able to remove the lycanthropic cells from Remus' blood."

"Lycanthropy," said Rufus. "That's the word. So is this the end of werewolves? Can you cure them all?"

Harry shrank back into his chair as Hermione took a quick intake of air. Eventually, Harry said, "In theory, I suppose. It takes a lot out of me to do it. It was also fairly painful, although I'd appreciate it if none of you mentioned that to Remus."

"But you'd do it for Greyback?" asked Dougal.

"If he made it worth my while," said Harry. "You and Luna know what I'm looking for, as does Minerva, I guess. It seems that the Minister of Magic is the only one out of this particular loop. I'm afraid it will have to stay that way, Rufus. You aren't always under my protection so I can't let you in on too many of my secrets." He seemed to feel a bit ashamed at this, but it made sense.

Rufus laughed. He then thought about it and laughed even harder. When he did this, there was, at first, some normal joining in before everyone else realized they didn't hear anything funny. After about thirty or forty seconds, he was able to contain himself. Wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, he finally calmed into just a grin.

"Rufus?" asked McGonagall. "I'm afraid the rest of us aren't in on the joke. I thought we were having a serious discussion." She didn't exactly look at him disapprovingly. Well, maybe she did.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," said Rufus. "Every now and then I get the impression that I'm in charge of something and when it's pointed out that that isn't the case, it catches me by surprise."

"What do you mean, Minister?" asked Hermione.

"I was elected Minister of Magic for one reason," stated Rufus. "I was considered second best at having a chance of defeating Voldemort. First choice was Dumbledore, of course." He looked up at the unusually vacant portrait above them. "I've been pretty good at my job but I'm no Albus Dumbledore. It turns out I'm no Harry Potter, either."

"Now don't go feeling bad about that, Rufus," said McGonagall. "You've done..."

"I'm not feeling bad," said Rufus. "Didn't you hear me laughing? It just strikes me as funny that; here I am, the Minister of Magic, elected to fight Voldemort, and all, and I can't be trusted, rightly so, I might add, with the innermost secrets of the ones who are at the center of it all. A former Death Eater," he indicated Dougal, "is more involved than I am. Then there's Harry and Hermione off talking to dragons and curing werewolves and I just feel a bit, well, useless in comparison." He deflated just a bit at the end.

"Don't we all," said Dougal. "I've felt that way since I found out about Harry's replacing people's limbs. Believe me; if you knew what he was really up to, and how much he's already done, you'd feel even worse."

"Isn't that the truth," said Hermione. "I tell you, it's pretty annoying absolutely destroying him in class only to have him save a few dozen children or some other antic that puts him on the front page, _again_. I tell you, it can be downright frustrating."

"If there isn't anything else..." said Harry, feigning displeasure. He looked around.

"I have a quick question," said McGonagall. "I'll try to phrase it so that Rufus doesn't have to leave."

"Thanks, Minerva," said Rufus.

"This trip that the two of you will be taking," said Minerva. "I was under the impression that you had found everything you had been looking for."

"So were we, Headmistress," replied Hermione. "Unfortunately, Luna pointed out that we should assume that Voldemort would make replacements, once he found out that some of them were gone."

Minerva thought a second before saying, "I suppose that makes sense. It would be easy enough for him to do. I wonder why no one else thought of that?"

"Bacus you wuz lissen to me," said an almost unrecognizably groggy voice from overhead.

They all looked up in surprise. The frame was still empty but the sound of a hiccup was heard just before an aged hand holding a wine bottle from a seventeenth century painting came into view. A moment or two later and Dumbledore, or at least the top of his hat, came into view. When his bloodshot eyes peered over the rim of his frame, McGonagall called out, "Albus! What have you been getting into?" She was as shocked as the rest of them.

"Gettin innue?" asked Dumbledore, firing up. "Gettin... I was gettin unnue geddin dwunk. Thas wad I waz gettin innue. I thinyou know... hic why."

He was preparing to lower himself down again when Rufus said, "There's no point in being that way, Albus. Minerva's still young, more or less, and she deserves to have a personal life."

"What do you mean 'more or less', Rufus" asked Minerva, casting a steely gaze at him.

"Perhaps we should leave," suggested Hermione, standing up.

"No," said Grampa, pulling himself back up. "Stayun talk abow how I donno nuttin."

"I'd love to," said Rufus, "but I'm loopy." He crossed his arms in a grump.

"I said you were out of the loop," corrected Harry. "In any event, Grampa's right. He was wrong about the number to begin with and he failed to suggest that more might be made."

"Thans, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Why done ya say ah look funny, too?"

"Well," said Harry, "I thought that went without saying."

"You're not helping, Harry," observed Hermione.

"Oh, he's just feeling sorry for himself," said Harry. "He makes a couple of errors over decades of research and his woman is in the arms of a formal rival and he decides to get blitzed." Minerva turned her wrathful stare at Harry for the 'his woman' remark but Grampa sputtered on, preventing a retort.

"An why not?" asked Dumbledore. "They say tha a knife issen sharper thanna woman's... no, thas nah right. I thing thars one abow bein colder thanna witches... Er, noddat eader. Is sommen about furry anna woman's scorned, issen it?"

"You know, Albus," said Minerva, "for a dead man, it's ironic that you're digging your own grave."

"Ah done havva grave," said Grampa. "I'm inna... inna... Lessee..." He scratched his beard.

"A tomb," said Luna. She and Dougal had been watching the verbal sparring from the sidelines since they were relative newcomers to the group and less inclined to trade barbs with the Minister of Magic and the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Thang you," said Grampa. "I'm inna tomb." He paused. "How did tha come up?"

"You think about that, Grampa," said Harry. "Hermione? Shall we be off?" He rose from his chair, the others following suit.

"Just a second," said Hermione. "Luna. Dougal. Our usual traveling companions are otherwise occupied, today. Would the two of you care to join us?"

Dougal looked at Luna for reaction but she had a question. "Will this trip involve staying somewhere overnight?"

"Oh, no," said Hermione. "We expect to be back later this afternoon or early evening."

Luna thought about this and said, "Well, maybe some other time, then." Without another word, she led the way out of the office.

Author's note: Put down the torches and pitchforks. I've finally corrected the misspelling of Remus's name in the first twenty or so chapters. Also, many thanks to Jiraiya for the correct Norwegian translations in chapter 42.


	73. Chapter 73

Chapter 73 - Back in Time

October 19th, 1997

"I thought we'd never get away," said Harry, throwing down his Official Turf Maze Souvenir tote bag. "Those women act like they've never heard of a dragon hatching before." With a 'plumpf', he was spread out on the sofa. With a gesture from his wife, he shifted over enough for her to join him.

"It's a girl thing," said Hermione, pulling off her shoes and rubbing her aching feet. "You should be doing this, by the way." She unceremoniously spun on her bum and plopped her bare feet on his lap.

"Why should I have to rub your feet?" said Harry. "Who's rubbing mine?"

"Put them up here and we can do each other," offered Hermione. She waited until Harry had managed, with a little adjustment of her own, to achieve the required position before they began their mutually satisfying synchronized pedi-massage.

After about forty-five seconds of bliss, Harry was sufficiently comforted to say, "It's our own fault, you know."

"No," disagreed Hermione. "It's all your fault. If you hadn't insisted that we join in with the hot-buttered dancing girls, we'd be ..."

"I didn't insist," lied Harry. "And it is your fault. After you dragged me through that bloody Turf Maze, it seemd that you enjoyed experiencing some of the local fare as long as we were out and about." He looked meaningfully at his feet over the toes of Hermione's. She had, spitefully, stopped rubbing when she had mentioned the dance group 'The Buttercross Belles'.

Hermione didn't seem inclined to get the hint until Harry also stopped his kneading of her tired soles. He remained with her feet in his hands, smirking at her. She finally relented and, smiling, resumed her activity. "I'll have to admit, doing the 'Churn' was quite aerobic. I might have to teach it to some of the girls here at Hogwarts."

"That'll get my blood racing," agreed Harry, enthusiastically. The 'Churn', one of the signature dances of the group of comely lasses, worked out to be quite entertaining when combined with their white, short-sleeved dresses and green smocks. The artistically located purple trim added enough reference points to entertain the male onlookers about as much as was legal.

"No doubt," agreed Hermione, resignedly. "Susan Bones might have to take a pass to prevent the chance of whiplash." She waited for Harry's retort but was met with silence and a dazed look. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"Oh," said Harry, coming around. "Nothing, really. When you mentioned Susan doing that particular dance I, uh, well..." He decided to return to silence out of self-preservation.

Hermione stopped rubbing, again and seemed to be preparing a retort of her own but, shrugging, she resumed and said, "I guess I set you up on that one." Another two minutes of silence followed. Finally, as her hands were starting to cramp up, she said, "That's all for you. I need to prepare for my classes." She dropped Harry's feet and spun around, getting up at the end.

"I thought you'd already done that," said Harry, correctly.

"I have," said Hermione, "as far as it goes. While we were out, it occurred to me that I'd better bone up on the details of transfiguration in case someone asks a complicated question during one of Honey's classes that I'm covering."

"Like what?" asked Harry. He looked shocked at her statement which confused her.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "How should I know what any number of students might ask?"

"I meant what sort of question could possibly be asked that you wouldn't already know the answer to, off the top of your head," replied Harry in all seriousness.

"One never knows when the unexpected might arise," said Hermione, inwardly pleased at his absolute faith in her ability.

"I suppose," said Harry. He got up and said, "I'm going to go down and see what's new in the fortress."

"You'd better talk to Winky, first," reminded Hermione. "She'll need to make arrangements."

"That shouldn't be too hard," replied Harry. "She already has a few farmers on notice." Looking up, although he knew he shouldn't, he said, "Winky. Please come here."

"What is Master wanting for Winky to be doing?" came the usual response.

"Company is coming next weekend, Winky," said Harry. "See that, let's see... Thirty sheep are in the south field. See if you can manage a cow, as well. I've heard rumors that they're quite good."

"Yes, Master," said Winky as Hermione groaned. "Will Master and his friends also be wanting treacle tart?"

"I've never turned down treacle tart in my life," said Harry. Again, Hermione groaned. "That should be enough for this weekend. Thanks, Winky."

"Yes, Master," said Winky and with a 'pop', she was gone.

"Enjoy your books," said Harry as he, also, popped away.

* * *

The elf annex of the main office, of limited use since the Dark Mark had been removed from all but a few Death Eaters, contained it's usual contingent of currently motionless elves, patiently watching their maps. A list sat next to each elf with the names of all known Death Eaters. From the fact that not one of them had yet to be seen, and that only the still marked Death Eaters had appeared on the maps during the attack at Diagon Alley, it would seem that Voldemort had succeeded in making his men very hard to identify, at least from a distance. The silver hands were a dead giveaway when up close.

Harry hadn't planned on entering his office. His main objectives were to talk to Greyback about his new-found cooperation and with Peter to further discuss any ideas he might have regarding the magma chamber in Mt. Etna. An unusual sight in the main office, however, caught his attention and he decided to investigate.

Opening the door, he overheard Grampa say, "...or two, just in case." The person to whom he was speaking turned and bowed when Harry approached.

"Good evening, Harry Potter," said Slider. He was standing next to Harry's chair as the most convenient location for a chat with Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Slider," replied Harry. "I just came down to see how things went today." He walked around his desk by the long way and took his chair. "Our expedition, as I'm sure you're already aware, didn't yield much." Sleepy and Jumper had been his and Hermione's guards for the day.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Perhaps Harry and Mistress Potter will be having better luck next time."

"Perhaps," said Harry. "So. What plans are you and Grampa hatching?" He leaned back in his chair, expectantly.

"Slider and Professor Dumbledore are being talking about being looking for Death Eaters, Harry Potter," answered Slider. "Slider is being thinking that we is not being catching any with the magic maps, anymore."

"That would seem to be the case," agreed Harry. "We assumed that, sooner or later, Voldemort would come up with something that would make them useless."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Slider and Jumper is being thinking that if we is being seeing Death Eaters, we is being able to be bringing them here and being putting them in cells."

"So you were discussing the best way to do that?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Professor Dumbledore is being saying that we is needing to be careful. He is saying we should be asking Harry Potter to be using one or two of Harry Potter's magic cloaks."

"I'd have to agree," agreed Harry. "We'd have to coordinate our missions so that we're both protected but I don't see a problem with it. When do you plan to start?"

"Slider is being needing to ask Harry Potter to be using his magic bowl," said Slider. "Slider and the Hogwarts Free Elves is being knowing what some of the Death Eaters is being looking like but not all of them. Professor Dumbledore is being saying that Harry Potter's magic bowl is being helping."

Harry looked to Grampa for an explanation. "They'll need to see the memory that one of the men who surrendered gave you," said Grampa. "You said that almost everyone was at the meeting where their arms were removed."

"Oh," said Harry. "Sure, Slider. You may use the pensieve. Once you're up to speed on who you're looking for, do you have any place in particular you'd like to watch or are you going to randomly go everywhere we had been watching?"

"Slider has read Mistress Martha's book and Slider is thinking that Diagon Alley is where the most bad Death Eaters is being going most often, Harry Potter."

"I'd have to agree," said Harry. "We also have a few home addresses from Wormtail you might want to check out. They stopped going home when they first suspected we could track them but they might risk a visit or two now." He then thought of a previous discussion on the subject and said, "It seems we discussed this before, Slider. I thought we had determined that if we start picking off one or two Death Eaters, here and there, that it would alert them that they were still vulnerable and they'd change tactics, once again."

"Slider is remembering, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Is Harry Potter not being wanting Slider to be finding Death Eaters?"

"No, Slider," responded Harry. "I'm not saying that. I think it's a good idea but perhaps we should limit the scope. I think that we need a silver-handed Death Eater as soon as possible so we can study him. One going missing wouldn't necessarily scare them off. Also, anyone on the urgent list should be taken, if possible. If we could capture Snape, for instance, it would be worth the cost. Does that sound reasonable to you?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Slider. "Good night."

"Good night, Slider," said Harry and the two left the office; Slider to consult with the other elves in the side office and Harry to continue on to see Greyback and Wormtail. It never occurred to either of them that such a conversation between a man and an elf, not as master and servant but between two leaders, each with their own objectives and concerns, could not have happened even two months before.

* * *

Harry continued down towards the snake door. He decided to use parseltongue this time, just to keep in practice. Just before the door, he came across the unusual sight of Greyback, hunched over his desk, the stub of his left arm steadying the parchment as he wrote near the end of the roll. Harry hadn't expected to see him so soon but then remembered that Hermione had transferred him to one of their better cells. The stack next to him seemed to indicate that he had been at it for some time. Harry had wanted to talk to him but changed his mind. Greyback was making good progress, it seemed, and he didn't want to interrupt his rhythm. Saying 'Open' while staring at the heads of the guardian snakes, he waited while the door swung on its hinges.

Stepping through, he took two steps before being surprised by the sudden appearance, consecutively as it turned out, of several men. The were all appearing, as if by magic, into a specific area by the wall. Showing signs of careful practice and calling encouragingly to each other to quicken the pace, they rapidly jumped out of the way; allowing the next man to follow almost immediately.

Harry had pulled his wand and was preparing to challenge them when a familiar voice called out.

"Harry," cried Wood. "Don't be alarmed. It's just us." He trotted on over to Harry, quite flush and freshly out of breath.

"Oliver?" asked Harry. He was quite used to the peace and quiet of the Fortress of Solitude. This sort of boisterousness was very much out of character. "What's going on?" Some of the others had noticed their host and gathered around.

"We're just getting done with practice," explained Wood. "Coldiron really put the hammer down, tonight." There were several laughs at the play on their trainer's name. Harry noticed that while most wore traditional Death Eater garb, some had a satiny red cloak.

"I was under the impression," said Harry, "that you were learning how to do auror paperwork."

"Oh, that is so last week," said Oliver, laughing. "Actually, we; this group, here; managed to convince Hammer to let those of us who were up to the training, to learn enough skills to serve as a low-level security force. We had discussed that possibility in the beginning, if you'll recall."

"I remember," said Harry. "I also remember the Minister telling me that it would take years to have a fighting chance against competent Death Eaters."

"We're not planning on fighting You-Know-Who anytime soon," said Wood. "We're thinking more along the lines of guarding the floo lobby at the Ministry or helping beef up the forces of the regulars when necessary. That sort of thing."

"I don't know about someplace as public as the Ministry," said Harry, "but I'm sure you could take some of the pressure off the auror corps. Is that why a few of you have the red cloaks?"

"Of course," said Oliver. "We divide up into offence and defense. Hammer is usually the 'target', as he puts it. One side has to try to capture or kill him while the other prevents that. The defense varies from two to six men, depending on the importance of the target. We can use almost anything but the Unforgivables since Hammer handed out these little things we keep on our wands." He held up his wand with the attenuator on the tip.

"Oh, those," said Harry. "Yes, they're making one for me, too. Maybe we'll have a competition someday."

"Sure, Harry," said Oliver, excitedly. "Only we might have to outlaw the diffindo spell since it still cuts a bit when it hits the right spot."

"Fair enough," said Harry. "Look; I have to be going but I'll get in touch when I have time for a bit of sport."

"I'm looking forward to it," said Oliver. With a wave, he turned and strode into his dorm for a shower.

* * *

Harry paused a moment, wishing he could go over his battleplan with Ron. He would have to wait until next week. Sighing, he proceeded on to the cell of the betrayer of his parents. Coincidentally, he found that Peter, like Greyback, was busy writing but had a much more relaxed and casual air about him, almost as if he were writing for pleasure. A teapot served the purpose of holding his parchment still. Unlike the werewolf, his finished parchments varied in size and were already rolled up and tied. Well, maybe 'tied' was a bit optimistic. Some ribbon was wrapped and twisted around the rolls to a sufficient degree to prevent them from unrolling. Harry considered the likelihood that his arguably most notorious prisoners might both be actively earning the replacement of their missing arms. Peter was probably already there, he conceded; his help with Mt. Etna having now been verified with first-hand confirmation. Harry removed the silencing charm and tapped on the glass.

"Damn," muttered Peter as he quickly untipped his ink bottle. The damage had already been done, though. Grabbing the edge of the soiled parchment, he held it up to prevent further soaking and cast about the room in search of a rag of some sort.

Harry, feeling a little guilty for causing such a mess, quickly pulled his wand and vanished the ink pooled on the table. "Set it down," he commanded of Wormtail, who complied with disgust as he wiped his blue fingers on his old robes. Harry then undid the damage caused using the same spell he had observed Hermione use to fix a paper that Ron had written earlier that year. Harry put away his wand while glancing at the writing. Wormtail quickly tried to roll it up but not before Harry caught sight of the words 'Prongs' and 'Mooney'.

"What is this?" he asked, somewhat shocked at the fleeting image.

"Oh," replied Wormtail, "nothing." He finished his haphazard wrapping and cleared off the table, placing the rolls on the floor between his bed and the wall.

"I saw enough to know it was about my dad and Remus," said Harry. "What have you been writing about them?"

"Oh," said Wormtail, again. "I'm not quite done. It isn't anything bad, I assure you. Well, some parts are a bit on the felonious side but... Well, I just wanted it to be a surprise." He seemed to be quite distressed.

"I'm a bit leary of 'surprises' from Death Eaters," said Harry. "Perhaps I should take a peek, just to..."

"Oh, please don't", begged Wormtail. "It's just stories. Stories about your father as a boy. Things we used to do in school; that sort of thing. I just want to work on them a bit more to make sure they're right. Then you can have them."

Again, Harry was torn. Here was the man most responsible after Voldemort for ruining his childhood and the more he got to know him, the more he liked him. This latest incident, involving catching him going out of his way to do something nice for Harry, was another example of just why his father had been close enough with him to consider him for secret keeper. Did he even what to read the stories? Would he find himself laughing and reminiscing with the villain? Harry decided he needed to reflect on the opportunity before committing himself so he said, "I suppose I wouldn't want to spoil your surprise, Peter. I can wait a while longer."

"That's good, Harry," said Peter. "You won't regret it. I think you're enjoy them, though. I certainly did; looking back at better times." Again, he looked inward and smiled. A moment later, he snapped back into the present and asked, "So, Harry. What can I do for you?" He offered his spare chair to Harry.

Harry sat down. "I came to discuss this magma cave we have to get through," he began. "We've tried a few things when we were there but didn't have much luck. Besides using a freezing charm on the ceiling, did Voldemort have any other suggestions?"

"That was the only way he mentioned," said Wormtail. "I could only hold it for a few seconds, though. Then, the whole thing would come crashing down in a sheet before returning to normal."

"That's sort of what I'm worried about," confided Harry. "If I can't hold the spell long enough to get through to the other side, if there even is another side, I'd be toast. Literally."

"What have you been trying," asked Peter, leaning forward, "if not the freezing charm?"

"Hermione thought that a metal shield shaped like a rooftop to let the magma slide off if it hit would work. It's useful against the average drip but a large clump knocks it silly."

Peter thought about it. "Have you considered shrinking yourself? Your magic would remain undiminished but you'd only have to support a much smaller shield. It wouldn't get hit as often, either."

Harry considered this. A shrinking potion would do the trick. The problem would be that it would only wear off in it's own good time. If a fire golem popped out at the wrong moment, it could be trouble. "That might work," said Harry. "I'll have to have Hermione check on ways to negate a potion on command."

"Some of the universal antidotes for poisons are pretty good at just putting a blanket stop on any foreign substances in your system," suggested Wormtail. "I doubt he'd be willing to consult with you but Snape had a pretty effective one he used with us Death Eaters from time to time."

"Snape?" asked Harry, shocked.

"Well," said Peter, "he was the Potions Master. I wasn't, however. About all I remember was that it tasted like pepperment."

"That should be enough," said Harry. "Oddly enough, I happen to have his NEWT Potions book."

"You're kidding," said Peter, impressed. "How on earth did you get that? He never let any of his Potions books out of his sight in school."

"I'm not sure," said Harry. "It was in his old cupboard in the Potions room last year. I didn't buy one since I didn't think I'd be taking Potions and Slughorn gave it to me to use until I could get one in the post. It's chock full of his own inventions. Both potions and spells."

"I'll bet some of them are less than nice," said Wormtail. "He had one that he used on Prongs, once, that embarrassed the hell out of James. It was harmless enough, but not a lot of fun for the recipient. You basically ended up hanging upside down in mid-air. It came back to haunt him, though. James was always good at replicating any spell that was used on or near him and he turned the tables on Snape for the next two years."

"Levicorpus," said Harry. "I've used it myself, from time to time. That's also where I learned Sectumsempra."

"I suspected as much," said Peter, "but after you're little visit last summer, I doubt that Snape was eager to claim credit for developing that particular spell."

"No doubt," said Harry. "Back to the topic at hand, did you have any other thoughts or suspicions about what might happen after we managed to get past the magma? Any other hidden dangers besides the fire golem?"

Wormtail thought. "Not that I can remember. That fits his pattern for the other horcrux that I witnessed as well as the one you described. An unlikely location; difficult to find. A logistical problem to get near the thing. Finally, some sort of terrible foe or other price to pay at the end before you can retrieve the horcrux."

"So what sort of advice did he have for dealing with the fire golem?" asked Harry.

"None," said Wormtail. "He was going to talk to him and identify himself as the rightful owner. Apparently, he had made arrangements when he left it there."

"Well, that's not good," said Harry. "I'd have to assume there's a reason he didn't want to have to fight the fire golem, himself. I haven't been too keen on the idea, myself."

"I can't say I blame you, Harry," agreed Pettigrew. "I don't really know much about them."

"Nobody knows much about them," said Harry. "Almost all of the accounts of direct confrontations with fire golems end with how the witch or wizard managed to escape. No one has ever defeated one, as far as we know."

Peter thought about that. Finally, he said, "He must have made some sort of a deal. There must be something that the fire golem wanted or needed that the Dark Lord could provide. Otherwise, why would he, the golem, that is, waste his time with it?"

"What would be worth having to go to the trouble of guarding something for years, perhaps decades," asked Harry.

"No idea," said Peter. "Where would he keep it, anyway?"

"Keep what?" asked Harry.

"The Horcrux," said Peter. "Fire golems live in lava and underground caves engulfed in fire. Where could he put a wand so that it wouldn't be immediately destroyed?"

Harry and Peter both considered this question. After a few seconds, Harry said, "I have no idea. The whole thing makes me wonder if we aren't missing something. Parts sound so easy; walking up to the fire golem and just saying 'May I please have my horcrux back.' Getting to the point where you could actually ask that question, however, is approaching the limits of my abilities, if not already exceeding them."

"Then there's the inconvenient fact that you aren't the Dark Lord," said Peter, "and the fire golem will know it. You'll undoubtedly have to fight him, at some point."

"I know," said Harry. "How do you fight a fire golem?"

"Fight fire with fire, I've always heard," said Peter. "Maybe dragon's breath is hotter than he can stand. Of course, you'll have one shot at finding out before he tries the same on you."

"I might be able to take it," said Harry. "Dragons don't have much of a problem with fire. We breathe it, actually."

"Perhaps," said Peter. "Then again, there might be another way." He stopped talking and seemed to be thinking. Harry couldn't be sure, of course, but he seemed sincere in his interest in helping. "Perhaps your best bet would be more research. If what we discussed earlier is true, that the Dark Lord used some sort of bribe on the fire golem, then the information must be out there, somewhere. It's just a matter of finding out what he wants. Then all you'd have to do is offer something better or more of it or whatever and you'd be set."

Harry said, "I doubt that Hermione has done anything less than a totally thorough job of studying every known aspect of fire golems but I'll bring up your suggestion on the type of information that might be useful. If, for example, she read that fire golems like cinnamon on their toast with tea, she might have not deemed it worthy of mention."

"A distinct possibility, Harry," said Wormtail. "Or a dead end. It's hard to tell."

"I suppose," said Harry. He looked at Pettigrew and said, "I think I'll discuss it with my group and see what they think." He stood up. "All right, Peter. Pull the robes over your left shoulder." He had decided that Peter was being more than cooperative and deserved a reward.

"My robes?" asked Peter, momentarily confused but still rolling back his robes, obediently.

"Yes," said Harry. "You didn't have any more useful information but you did suggest another path we could pursue. I think that warrants some reciprocity on my part." He pulled his wand and replaced Wormtail's missing hand in short order.

"Why, thank you, Harry," said Peter, flexing his new fingers. "That's much better."

"No problem," said Harry. "I'll be off, then." He reached for the icon but Peter held him back.

"Just a moment," said Peter, reaching down for a small scroll on the floor. Handing it to Harry, he said, "This one's about as done as I can manage. It's a short story but I hope you enjoy it."

Harry looked at the scroll, eager to read it but deciding to wait for a bit of privacy. "Thanks, Peter," he said. With a nod of his head to Wormtail, he left the cell and walked back to the snake door. Just as he stepped through, he looked back to see Peter Pettigrew, happily working on the next scroll.

* * *

Later that night...

"Harry?" Hermione came out of their bedroom. Harry still wasn't back. All he had said about his meeting with Pettigrew was that it was informative. He had then said he needed to find someplace quiet to think. That was three hours ago. She knew he wasn't exactly Ludwig Wittgenstein so she was concerned.

"Winky," she called.

"What can Winky be doing for Mistress," came the reply. Winky stood before Hermione with droopy eyelids and a slightly less than rested demeanor. Hermione wasn't worried about that, for now. She already knew the cause and couldn't do anything about it, anyway.

"Where is Harry, Winky?" asked Hermione.

"Master is being in the clock tower, Mistress," replied Winky.

"The clock tower?" asked Hermione. "What in the world is he doing up there?"

"Winky isn't knowing, Mistress," answered Winky.

"Is he alone?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, Mistress," stated Winky.

Hermione thought about it for just a moment before deciding that if Harry had some thinking to do after talking with one of his dad's best friends, she'd have to understand. She knew that he knew where to find her if he needed her.

"Thanks, Winky," she said. "Good night."

"Good night, Mistress," said Winky and she popped off. Hermione returned to her bed.

* * *

'These were the ones,' thought Harry. He examined two of the smallest of the dozens of gears on the huge clock. It was hard to tell but he was fairly confident that the slight bulge nearby was the site of the temporary pin placed so many years earlier. He wondered how Sirius had figured out, at the age of eleven, no less, just where to adjust the clockworks for such a dramatic result. Smiling, he sat down to re-read the parchment, once again.

First Year Prank

Just before Christmas Break

We were sitting together, as we often did, in the clock tower. I don't know why we liked it there so much but we had turned that into our secret lair, if you will. Remus was quite tired and had just returned from the hospital. We hadn't put two and two together yet but the full moon had passed just a few hours before. We collected our dorm mate, as usual, and had convinced him to come for one last meeting of the Marauders, as we called ourselves. James, you see, had an invisibility cloak and we tended to abuse it to more than a small degree.

"This can't wait," said Sirius. Remus had suggested that with the Hogwarts Express arriving tomorrow morning to take us all home for the holidays, that perhaps some sort of a school-wide prank wouldn't be practical or even possible. "Easter Break is months away and we'll be busy with studying for final exams, I suppose. Summer Break is too long and I want to start a full seven year tradition."

"Why does it have to be before a break?" asked James. He and Remus were more along the same lines of temperament and sometimes had trouble understanding the thought processes that Sirius and I tended to share. The first two or three years, our foursome had the reasonable and respectful James and Remus balanced and, to a certain point, corrupted by Sirius and me.

"Because of Remus, mostly," said Sirius, seriously.

"Why because of me?" asked Remus.

"You're way too honest," replied Sirius. "We need to give you at least a week to stop feeling embarrassed and guilty so that we won't go directly into detention."

"He's right, you know," agreed James. "You remember when you whispered that answer to the Transfiguration quiz to me? You turned beet red and started to sweat like Snape in a hair salon. McGonagall gave us both detention based on that alone."

"That and she's been teaching here since before we were born," I added. "Blimey, how long do they let someone go on before they force them to retire?"

"Dumbledore's a lot older than she is," said Remus, apparently trying to change the subject. "So's Flitwick."

"She acts older," said Sirius. "Old hag reminds me too much of my Mum. I swear it would kill her if she smiled."

"Probably," said James. "So, what are we going to do?"

"About McGonagall?" asked Remus. He never was the quickest study in the group.

"No!" said a long suffering me. "The prank. We still need to come up with something and fast. It's already seven-thirty. We need to get back to the dorm or we'll spend the first day back after break in detention."

"Our home away from home," said Sirius. He looked up at the clock face. Naturally, from our view we saw it from the back. "We need more time to pull off something really great. I want us to do something that they'll be talking about for years."

"We have half an hour," reminded Remus. "It'll take us fifteen of those minutes to get back."

Sirius sighed. "I hate just giving up. If this bloody clock told time from the inside it'd only be four-thirty. Then we'd have loads of time." He started towards the stairs followed by Remus and me. When we reached the door, we all noticed that James hadn't followed. He was staring at the clock face, apparently transfixed.

"Let's go, James," I called. James turned around at my call but didn't follow us or even look at us. He started looking at the clockworks, instead.

"I've got it," said James. "We'll fix the clock so it reads right." He seemed to think that was a brilliant idea.

"It already reads correctly," said Remus. As stated before, he took a moment or two to catch on.

"He means from in here," said Sirius. He, too, started to look at the clockworks.

"We just need to figure out what to change," said James. By this time, of course, even Remus had caught on. We all studied the gears and levers with an intensity that we had never shown our homework. After about five of our fifteen minutes had expired, Sirius pointed at a pair of the smallest gears.

"There!" he shouted. "This gears spins one way and that one the other. If we took out one of them and moved the other in to close the gap, the whole clock would run the other way." He was right, of course.

We worked fast. As only experienced pranksters could, we each already knew our allotted tasks. I cast a binding charm on the pendulum to hold it still at the top of it's swing. James cut off one of the gears with three successive diffindo spells while Remus took four to remove the other one. Sirius then fastened one of the gears in place between the two large ones nearby and we all scampered away, laughing like, well, schoolboys.

The next morning, no one had noticed the difference, yet. We usually arrived for breakfast at around seven-thirty so twelve hours being twelve hours, forwards or backwards, the clock was more or less correct. I'm not even sure if anyone caught on when it tolled only seven times to signal the end of the hour. Just before we left, the professors had noticed that something was up with the clock. Fortunately for us, they seemed to assume it had been changed that morning and we weren't immediately suspected since we had all been in plain sight. Nevertheless, we kept out of the way until it was time to board the Hogwarts Express. That turned out to be the hard part because, as expected, the guilt-ridden Remus was dead easy to spot a mile away so we had to keep him under wraps, literally, by using James' invisibility cloak until we were well away from school and in our compartment on the train.

We were never found out although I suspect Mooney still feels a pang of guilt whenever he sets his watch.

* * *

Harry was smiling fondly at the clock. He sat, he knew, on the railing that his father had sat on, looking at the clock that he had adjusted. If he blocked the knowledge of the source of the story from his mind, he actually enjoyed it. That was the problem, of course. Peter wrote the story. Peter was writing more stories, just for him. Peter had one story to tell that would end his life; the one where he explained why he had betrayed Harry's parents. Harry wanted to read the other, happy stories more than just about anything else. Most of all, though, he wanted to know what would cause the first year boy in the story he had just read to bring about the death of one of his best mates.

* * *

Author's note: I'm trying something new. When I write the chapters, I put a double space between the sections. wants a double space between each sentence. I do that last and put three spaces between sections. It has come to my attention that the third space is removed in translation so I'm putting in a row of asterisks to separate the sections. Hope this helps. I'm sorry for the delay between chapters but I'm still on seven day workweeks, for the most part. Parade season is over, though, so that should free up some time on the weekends.

Dad

They don't like asterisks, either. I went through and put in the lines to separate sections but it's a bit of a pain to do so. I'm not sure if I'll continue with it. Let me know if it makes it a lot easier to read.

Dad (again)


	74. Chapter 74

Chapter 74 - Greyback Unleashed

October 20th, 1997

Harry woke up at the usual time the next morning and, as usual, made a quick trip to the bathroom. By the time he returned, he had gained sufficient brain activity to consider the fact that he was alone. At first, he just chalked it up to the fact that Hermione had her first Transfiguration class first period and wanted to get a jump on breakfast. Then he remembered the discussion he had with Wormtail the night before. Well, it's not like she'd have time to check or recheck the likes and needs of fire golems before the end of the day so he just took a quick shower and headed down to the Great Hall to join her for some bacon and toast.

Harry walked down to his usual place on the benches but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Just before he sat down, Ginny stood up, and without so much as a 'good morning', planted a kiss on him that made him momentarily remember why they had dated in the first place.

"Hey!" said Neville, standing up. He prepared to face Harry; thought better of it and turned to Ginny, instead. "What's the big deal?"

"I was, ah," began Harry, "wondering that, ah..."

"Hermione had to leave early so she asked me to give you her love," explained Ginny. "I figured I'd leave it at a kiss."

"Thanks, I think," said Harry. "I thought she had second year Transfiguration first period."

"She does," said Ginny. "I don't get it either. She could teach that class with her eyes closed."

"She does like to be prepared," said Luna. "Of course, she might just be getting ready for this afternoon. She has our class, if you'll recall, Ginny."

"I remember," said Ginny, smirking. "We'll see how her patience holds with Colin in the room."

"She has tons of patience," said Harry, loading his plate. "She's had plenty of practice with Ron and me."

"From what I've heard," said Dougal, "Honey's been chipping at her quite a bit."

"She doesn't mean to," said Harry. "Not that that makes it any better." They all laughed.

After breakfast, Harry, who didn't have to teach anything to anyone, went down to check in at his office. "Good morning," he said, cheerily. "Anything unusual happen last night?" It has become something of a joke question, given the current inability to detect most Death Eaters. Still; he could hope.

"No," said Martha, "but that might not hold out. Slider left this morning with five of his little friends, two of my best readers and four maps." She watched him for his reaction to determine if he might have a clue on this behavior.

"He must be eager to get started," said Harry. He set his book bag next to his desk and pulled out a quill, ink and parchment from his center drawer.

"Start what?" asked Martha. She sipped on her morning coffee as she waited.

"Slider wants to try to actively find some Death Eaters," answered Harry. "They plan to stake out some high traffic areas and see who happens by. I'm not sure if the maps will be helpful, though. "

Martha thought about this. "I think they might, in a backwards sort of way." At Harry's continued look, she added, "If you see someone on the street that isn't on the map, chances are that they're hiding something."

"True enough, I suppose," agreed Harry. "If we can get just one, which I suggested, then we might be able to key the old maps to be able to detect them, again."

"That would be nice," agreed Martha. "So. What have you got planned for today?"

"I need some ideas," said Harry, "probably from Grampa, on some proper gifts."

"Gifts?" asked Grampa, waking up a bit. "What sort of gifts?"

"Nice ones," said Harry. "I need to find something that will turn the eye of a fire golem."

"Oh," said Grampa, "is that all?" He thought for a moment. "If I were a fire golem, what would I want?" He mused on the question, as did Harry and Martha. After a full thirty seconds had passed, he asked, "Why do you ask?"

"Well," said Harry, "Peter had gathered that Voldemort had made some sort of a deal with the fire golem in Mt. Etna to have it guard Ravenclaw's wand. In order to do that, he'd probably have had to offer a gift to make it worth the trouble."

"I see," said Grampa. "So you're hoping to figure out something to offer that would be worth more than the original deal?"

"Exactly," said Harry. "The only problem is determining what would be of use in bribing a fire golem."

They all went back to their musings. Eventually, Martha said, "Maybe it isn't something at all. Maybe it's some sort of favor or service."

"That could be," said Harry, perking up. "So, what could I do for a fire golem that would be of any use to it?" They all realized that, despite opening up other possibilities, this line of reasoning wasn't of much use, either.

"You might just have to ask it," said Martha. She sat looking at Harry as he looked back.

"Just walk up to it and say 'Pardon me. Is there anything I could do for you?'," asked Harry, shocked.

"More or less," agreed Martha, calmly. "Negotiations are to be expected, after all."

"I suppose so," said Harry, thinking. "We know that Voldemort was planning on just asking for his horcrux back so we can expect that the fire golem isn't prone to attacking on sight. Maybe it'd be just that simple." He shrugged.

"What does Hermione think?" asked Grampa. He wasn't particularly keen on this latest suggestion and hoped another would present itself.

"Nothing, yet," said Harry. "I haven't had a chance to talk to her about it."

"Oh," said Martha. "Well, we'll just have to wait until she has time to give it some thought."

"We can think about it, too," said Harry, defensively. "I thought we were doing quite well." He didn't like anyone giving the impression that Hermione did his thinking for him, however close to the truth that that suggestion might be.

"I didn't mean to imply that we couldn't," said Martha. "It's just that, well, Hermione is usually more effective than most people."

Harry couldn't argue the point. Instead, he changed the subject. "There is something else that I'd like to check on," said Harry. "Greyback has decided to do anything and everything he can to earn a cure to his lympho, no, wait. What's the word? His, ah, werewolf problem."

"Lycanthropy," said Martha. "Yes. I've noticed that he's been moved and seems to be writing a novel."

"Have you read anything, yet?" asked Grampa.

"No," said Harry. "I was planning on it last night but he seemed to be really getting into it so I decided to put it off until this morning. I'll go get a bundle of parchments and we'll see if he's on the right track."

"Sound's like fun," said Martha. "I'll help, if you'll let me."

Harry considered the offer. "I suppose that just reading the parchments won't hurt, but I'll have to think about how much we can tell you about the type of content we're looking for." He thought about this for a moment before adding, "I mean we don't have a lot of people who know everything. I trust you and all that, but..." He sensed that he wasn't improving his position and hoped that Martha would understand what he was trying to say.

"I understand," said Martha, smiling. "Just give me a clue or two and I'll try to help you winnow out some of the chaff."

"Thanks, Martha," said a relieved Harry. Despite the fact that most of the newspaper articles cast him as a lone avenger, he was very much aware of how important those around him were in virtually all of his successes. He didn't want to alienate anyone. Rising from his chair, he left to chat with the werewolf.

* * *

"These all look quite lovely, Mr. Lupin." Miss Mary Geneva, the head of the Ministry department in charge of the care and well-being of families in protective custody was pleased. For the last few weeks, her charges were more or less hidden from her at an undisclosed location. Since the Minister of Magic himself vouched for their safety, she didn't worry too terribly but she was happy that an actual location that she could periodically inspect had become available.

"Thank you," said Remus. "It took a bit longer than we had hoped but, given the decision to blend the new construction into the existing castle, we're quite happy ourselves at the outcome." They were standing in the oval hall that served as the common area for the twenty new guest suites added onto the northeast end of the castle. Twin circular stairwells on either side allowed access to the upper level.

"I'm in total agreement," agreed Geneva. "Now, you mentioned some sort of a problem in the outdoor courtyard?" She walked towards the archway and looked out over the grounds, currently experiencing a Fall shower.

"Not so much a problem," amended Lupin, "as a difference of technique compared to the normal methods. All security measures have been completed. It was regarding the decorating of the area about which I wrote. We happen to have a muggle couple staying here, for the same reasons as your wards, in fact, and the wife has a very keen interest in gardening. She requested, and Headmistress McGonagall agreed, that she be allowed to provided decorative vegetation for the school. Naturally, she'll be doing so in the muggle fashion so we'll have to wait for the results. We do expect the contrast in methods to be quite educational for the students, however."

"I'm sure it will be," agreed Geneva. "Make them appreciate their heritage a bit more, I expect, after having to wait goodness knows how long for a few simple flowers." She smirked at the thought and then returned to business.

"You had mentioned that one of the guests that came your way has dementia. Has she been evaluated regarding her suitability to be near young children?" It may have come across as rather callous but there's dementia and there's dementia. Some forms have few traits as benign as simple forgetfulness.

"Our school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, has done so," said Remus. "I'm afraid that the best the old lady can manage is looking out the window. She should pose no threat."

"Fine. Fine," said Geneva, looking over her notes. "I mean it's fine that there won't be a problem. I'd like to start the transfers from your other location, if it would be convenient. If not, I could return at another time."

"Of course," said Remus. "Now is as good a time as any. Slider."

"Yes, Professor Lupin," came the almost immediate reply. "What can Jumper be doing for you?"

"Jumper?" asked Remus, surprised.

"Slider is being busy, Professor Lupin," explained Jumper, "and he is being sending me to care for you."

"Oh," said Lupin, gathering his wits. "Miss Geneva has signed off on these flats. Please begin the transfer of the families to the rooms we have assigned. Miss Geneva will help as needed. We'll give them a couple of hours to settle in and look around. Once everyone is unpacked, I'll go over the instructions and guidelines for using the courtyard and any other issues they may have at that time."

"Yes, Professor Lupin," said Jumper. He paused before stating, "Harry Potter is requesting that you join him, Professor."

"He is?" asked Lupin.

"Yes, Professor Lupin," said Jumper. "Harry Potter is being asking Sleepy to be finding you but I am already being with you so I is asking instead of Sleepy."

"Oh," said Lupin. "Sure. Where is he, Jumper."

"Harry Potter is being in his office," said Jumper, being as vague as he could when presented with a direct request for specific information in front of an unknown person.

"Fine," said Remus. Turning to Miss Geneva, he said, "I'll be back in a couple of hours, if I can. I think that you and Jumper will have everything under control."

"Thank you, Mr. Lupin," said Miss Geneva. "I'm sure that you're correct."

With that, Lupin walked over to the star-shaped icon near the entranceway. This was a master icon and would be used extensively by the elves to transfer the families. Afterwards, it would be replaced by one that would connect to the Hogwarts kitchens since a goblin ward would be used to enhance Hogwarts' own wards to doubly ensure the safety of the residents. They were, after all, in protective custody. For now, it led to any icon that an authorized ring holder wished it to lead.

"The office of the Fortress of Solitude," said Remus, touching the icon. He vanished.

* * *

Hermione arrived at her 3rd Period Potions class just in time. It had taken her longer than expected, or needed in her mind, to explain to her 4th Year class the nuance of wand adjustment necessary to properly use insect transfiguration techniques with arachnids. It was a full five minutes past the bell before she was satisfied with their apparent understanding of the subject. Rushing to her seat just as Professor Triffle began to take attendance, she tossed down her bag and began to pull out her book when she noticed Harry.

"Class hasn't started yet, Harry," she said, opening her book to the chapter indicated on the board. "Why are you so tired, already?"

"Huh?" asked Harry. "Oh, sorry. Remus and I were going over the first thousand scrolls of Greyback's autobiography. It's exciting enough, I suppose, at least in parts, but he tends to be a bit wordy."

"Some people need to write that way," said Hermione. "They have to include everything in order to make their point."

"I suppose," said Harry. "I just wish he'd cut out some of the less important parts and get to telling us things we need to know." He rubbed his weary eyes for effect.

"I know what you mean," said Hermione. "Some of the books I've read seem to just go on forever with unimportant information. I'd like to tell the authors to take a course in editing. Of course, if all writers did that we probably wouldn't be having this conversation, right now." She began to gather the various ingredients that were specified for the days potion.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, not helping, as usual.

"Nothing," said Hermione. "Forget I said it." They then proceeded on with their class.

* * *

At the end of the class day but before supper, they returned to their suite to change their clothes before heading down to the office. Harry had only briefly mentioned his varied conversations from that morning. Hermione hadn't had time to either read a bit from Greyback's dissertation or do any research on the wants and needs of fire golems, so they both assumed that it would be a long night.

When they arrived, it was emptiness that greeted them. A little more emptiness than usual since, after just a moment, they noticed that the chairs were also all missing. "Where is everyone?" asked Harry to no one.

"At the other end of the hall," answered Hermione. She had chanced a glance through the window and noticed the accumulation of people by the snake door.

"What are they doing?" asked Harry, peering out himself.

"Let's find out," said Hermione. With the requisite shrug from Harry, they were off.

It didn't take long before they began to hear voices; first one and then another, both male and female but always countered by a familiar rasping voice that was easy to recognize as the only current werewolf in their circle of acquaintances.

"So on July 3rd, 1963, when you refer to 'staying in the farmhouse', was that the Reilly farm in Kent?" Martha held her quill over the parchment, ready to add the footnote.

"No," replied Greyback from within his cell. "We had to leave that place behind. Bloody idiots Tom recruited early on couldn't control themselves with the locals. We had to move clear across the country after that."

"Yes," said Remus, distastefully. "I read about those incidents a little while back." He indicated the pile of parchments to his left. "I'm surprised you..." He broke off when he noticed the Potters. "It's about time you made your way down here." He grabbed a handful of parchments from his right and tossed them unceremoniously onto the table in front of a pair of empty chairs. As it turned out, they were Harry and Hermione's missing chairs from the office.

"Fine," said Hermione, sitting down at once. "So. Who's doing the organizing and what divisions have you ...chosen." She slowed precipitously before the final word and came to a complete stop a moment after glancing at the uppermost parchment on the pile.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry, reading a bit of the parchment to try to determine the cause of his wife's apparent shock.

"What?" asked Hermione, blankly. She quickly recovered and said, "Oh, it's just that..." She paused again as she took a moment to quickly peek at the second and third parchment on her stack. "It's just that I was a bit surprised." She managed to gather herself together and began to read the account of a conversation with Tom Riddle concerning the unfortunate shifting of the wind, given their current proximity to a dairy farm.

"Surprised at what?" pursued Tonks. "I know you're a quick reader but you hadn't taken two seconds ..."

"I wasn't surprised at the story," interrupted Hermione. "It seems boring enough, actually. It's the handwriting." A round of 'oh's followed this pronouncement.

"Yeah," said Greyback. "That seems to be the usual reaction. Six years of primary school with the Sisters of Mercy." He laughed. "Now there's a misleading name."

"You went to a parochial primary school?" asked Harry, shocked.

"I did," answered Greyback. "Got the scars to prove it, too." He held up is hands, knuckles facing them. "You'd be surprised at the amount of motivation that can be found in a three foot long oak ruler."

"I've heard the jokes," said Hermione, who was subconsciously a bit placated by the fact that the first person who had managed to exceed her handwriting abilities had at least paid the price for the ability.

"I've only heard two nun jokes," said Greyback. "The rest of the stories are true."

"I've met a couple of nuns," said Martha. "They didn't seem so bad."

"Oh, that's because they've loosened up some of the rules on their social lives," said Greyback. "You can date a nun, now. You can even kiss a nun. You just can't get in the habit."

It was such an unexpected punch line that everyone, including Remus, laughed out loud. "Oh, you're terrible," said Tonks, catching her breath.

"I've heard," said Greyback. "Nun jokes are about all I remember from school. That, and the music lessons."

"I can't quite picture you in the choir," said Harry. Greyback's grating bass would be of limited use with a hymn.

"Didn't sing," said Greyback. "I played trumpet. Pretty good at it, too. Had to give it up when I was bitten, of course."

"Why can't a werewolf play trumpet?" asked Hermoine.

"They're too sensitive," answered Greyback, straight faced. Again, there was an outburst from the group.

Eventually, they all got back to business. At least most of them. After a while, Harry had begun to read a parchment on a trip that Greyback had made to Borgin and Burkes at the request of Tom Riddle. Greyback always called him Tom or Tom Riddle, never Lord Voldemort. While wading through the forty inch long essay, Harry's mind wandered into the tangential thought that, here again, someone who was universally reviled and feared, wasn't half bad once you got to know them. Like Peter Pettigrew, he thought that he could have been friends with Greyback under different circumstances. Unlike Peter, Harry could hazzard a guess as to why Greyback turned out the way he did. Bitten as a teenager, Greyback lived in a time when werewolves were routinely hunted down like animals. Even today, when supposedly saner minds prevailed, outright discrimination and oppression were the norm. No wonder he turned against society. It had turned against him first. He mused on the injustice of it all as he returned to his task.

* * *

The rest of the week went pretty much the same way. McGonagall, Luna and Dougal were recruited to help Harry, Hermione, Remus, Tonks and Martha with the unexpected mass of writings. They had wanted detailed information on the comings and goings of Voldemort but with Greyback doing the informing, the situation was similar to a thirsty man asking for a drink of water and finding himself in the middle of a very large lake. Some of the tales were more useful than others, though no less fun to read. One passage in particular, although of no tactical or strategic value, was quite illuminating. It seemed that one time, many years before Lord Voldemort became well known, he and a few of his Death Eaters, Greyback included, were eluding some aurors after a bit of villainy. They slipped into a large building with well lit posters and a dark lobby to blend in with the fairly substantial crowd. Through overheard conversations, they assumed that a play of some type was about to begin and, with the need to find someplace to remain hidden anyway, Voldemort decided to stay. Thus began a decades long addiction to James Bond movies. Voldemort felt a kinship to both the brutal villains and the equally unflinchingly ruthless hero. In those movies, he found a world that he could relate to. Everyone knew what they wanted and did whatever it took to get it. Harry saw more than a slight resemblance to himself, if it came down to it.

Eventually, the stack of parchments that held the summaries and notes from the original output of the werewolf began to need indexing itself. Like a mini-library, Greyback's parchments were categorized for easier reference. A table each was devoted to trips with Voldemort or at the command of Voldemort, private conversations, general announcements or briefings; interrogations of prisoners in the presence of Voldemort, raids, murders, recruitments... and on and on. Anyone wishing to write the definitive book on Voldemort would have all the information that they could ever wish for.

Everything, that is, except for Horcruxes. The word never came up nor was anything similar alluded to; so far, at least. Hermione was concentrating her second search around the tales of murder. That was a requirement for the creation of horcruxes, after all, so she thought that her time was best spent reviewing them. This was in addition, of course, to searching for more information on fire golems with an emphasis on their wants and needs.

As the weekend neared, Harry did finally put a finger on something that he had sensed for a day or so, but could not identify when he and his wife walked together in the hallways. On Friday, just after their last class, Charms, Harry and Hermione were walking back to their suite to change clothes. It was not, as before, in preparation to spend the night reading about Greyback's adventures, but to bath and change into their finer robes. The newlyweds had managed to pry themselves away from each other long enough to invite Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Neville to a small dinner party. Harry was letting his mind wander, trying to decide on an appropriate gift to bring when he recognized a phenomenon that had hitherto been only observed in the memories of Death Eaters. The hallway, crowded as usual by most of the student population, didn't seem to present any hindrance to their passage. Almost instinctively, their fellow students were compressing their ranks as they approached and allowed them more than a polite amount of room. Not all did so, but enough did to take the rest with them. Harry observed one second year glance with slightly frightened eyes at them just as they passed. He hadn't killed anyone publicly, lately, and wondered why people were fearful of him, all of a sudden. Harry was about to comment on this change in the norm to Hermione when he caught sight of his wife's countenance and changed the intended subject.

"Is something the matter?" he asked. He silently hoped that he wasn't responsible for her apparent mood. Whether or not he would receive the fallout, innocent or not, remained to be seen. The sudden change from the casual good mood she enjoyed in Charms also was a mystery he was unsure that he wanted to investigate.

"Oh, I suppose not," she said, snapping a bit back to normal by his question. "It's just been a long week; extra classes, extra reading and all." She readjusted her bag and said no more.

"I see," said Harry. "Are you finding teaching to be not to your liking?"

"Teaching is easy enough, I suppose," said Hermione. "It's the students that can be a bit frustrating." She reacquired her scowl with the memory. When she did so, the hallway once again became a bit less dense than before, in their area.

"You did okay in our class," said Harry. "You had me on my toes, at least." Harry had spent a full two hours reviewing the lesson before submitting himself to her scrutiny and it had paid off. At least to a point. He had moved the tip and shank of his wand in the opposite directions than were required at one point but she hadn't snapped too furiously so he thought that the overall experience was a success.

"I know," said Hermione. "I think that I'd have all the classes whipped into shape in another week or so. Maybe that's it. Miss Goodness and Light will be taking over, again, next week and everyone will go back to slipshod wand work." Her expression left no room for error on her opinion on that subject and Harry realized, at last, that it wasn't him that everyone was afraid of in this particular hallway.

* * *

"No, Mother," answered Draco. He had made his usual stop at her flat to check on her at the end of the day. Accompanying him was Luna, of course. She sat patiently while Draco impatiently replied to his mother's questions and comments about the supposed insurgency he was to have begun at Hogwarts.

"No?" asked Narcissa. "Not even any of the Slytherins?" She had inquired on whether or not any of the students seemed to be interested in joining the Dark Side. If Draco brought some new recruits, it would help him in regaining his standing with the Death Eaters.

"I haven't asked anyone," said Draco. He could put it off no longer. Acting on Luna's advice, he decided to force his mother to understand reality. "I have no plans on doing any such thing. In fact," he added, before Narcissa could catch her breath, "I am actively working against the Dark Lord." He used the Death Eater approved moniker so as not to push her too far.

"Working against your Master?" asked Narcissa, shocked. She regained some control before continuing, with a pleading smile, "Surely you don't mean that, Draco."

"I do, Mother," said Draco. He stood up to emphasize the point, Luna joining him with her arm around his. "I have cooperated with his enemies; clarified and corrected their information and am currently helping with the debriefing of Greyback. He is also cooperating to the best of his abilities." He added the last to try to reinforce his position that other Death Eaters are not unchangeable, either.

"I... I don't...," stammered Narcissa, quite clearly at a loss for words. She arose and paced back and forth, searching for an argument to bring her son to his senses.

"Don't waste your time, Mother," said Draco. "My mind is made up on this."

"Well, you can just unmake it," said Narcissa, turning on him in anger. "My son will not betray the Dark Lord." She was replacing her earlier distress with stern fury. He was her son and had to obey her.

"Draco can never go back," said Luna, gently. "He's been working to change his ways; to be a better..."

Slap! The back of Narcissa's hand struck the cheek of Luna with enough force to drop her to the floor. "You!" she shrieked, pointing her finger at Luna. "You've turned him away..."

"Mother!" shouted Draco. He dropped to the floor to check on Luna. Finding her to not be seriously injured, he sprang back at his mother. "Don't you dare ever hurt Luna, ever again." He raised both fists in frustrated fury. "I'm no longer a Death Eater! I'm never going to be one, ever again! If you can't get that through your head..." He stopped, unwilling to make the implied ultimatum.

"So," said Narcissa, half crazed with anger. "This is what's become of the son of Lucius Malfoy. A traitor. It would be better if you'd stayed dead."

"You don't mean that," said Luna, tears falling from her cheeks, knowing as she spoke that her words were a lie. "He's your son."

"My son is dead," said Narcissa, with finality. She turned her back on the two of them.

"Come," said Draco, holding out his hand to Luna. "She's made herself perfectly clear."

"No, Draco," cried Luna. "If you leave now, you'll regret it forever."

"Draco is dead," said Dougal. "My mother just said so. I'm Dougal, now. I have no mother."

"No! No! No!" screamed Luna. "You two can't leave it like this."

"Leave me, you vile bitch," spat Narcissa. "I have nothing to say to either of you."

"He's your son," pleaded a crushed Luna. She had recommended the truth to Dougal. How could she have been so wrong?

Narcissa remained unmoved. After a moment, Dougal walked over to the icon and, waiting for Luna to join him, said, "Goodbye, Mother." Without another word, he took Luna's hand and spoke the command to leave his old life, finally behind.

Author's Note: I know. It's another short chapter but some interesting stuff is just around the corner. I'll be working on our town's Breakfast with Santa soon so I wanted to give you something to read. See you early December, I hope.

Dad


	75. Chapter 75

Chapter 75 - A Trip to Hogsmeade

October 24th, 1997

"I'll have to admit," said Ginny, "the view from up here is spectacular." The six of them, three Weasleys, two Potters and a Longbottom, had taken their positions on the second floor balcony that had been added by Harry five days earlier. They had taken a break here after Honey and Ron gave them the three shilling tour. Their seats faced the west which gave them a view of both the mountain forest sloping up on their right and the lake, away downhill past Hogsmeade on their left. The sun had just set but the glowing embers of far away clouds kept them sufficiently illuminated to not require alternative lighting. A warming charm on the decking prevented them from being chilled by the brisk, fall air.

"This does seem to be very Arcadian," agreed Hermione.

"Hermione," said Honey, sharply. "I don't know why you'd say such a thing. Our home isn't the newest one around but I think it's quite lovely, thank you very much." She crossed her arms and plopped back into her chaise lounge.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, guessing the misunderstanding but failing to appreciate the depth of it. "I mean that it's bucolic."

"Stop picking on their home," commanded Harry. He didn't know what either of the words meant, either, but he knew they probably weren't insults.

"Thank you, Harry," said Honey.

"I think it's jealousy," said Ginny. "Sometimes I think she gets more annoyed than usual with Harry and wishes she'd stayed with Ron."

"Sometimes I do," said Hermione, coldly, albeit dishonestly. Turning to Honey, she explained, "All I've been trying to say is that your house and neighborhood are both very nice."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" asked Ron.

"I did," stated Hermione. "I just chose my words poorly. Please accept my apologies."

"Of course," said Honey. "To tell you the truth, I know what bucolic means. That other one, though, sounded like you thought our place was too old."

"No," said Hermione. "Arcadia is a mountainous area of Greece known for it's rustic villages. Anyplace that is along those lines can properly be called Arcadian."

"Fascinating," said Ginny, evenly. "Now that we have that cleared up, perhaps we can get to the point of this visit." At the blank stares she received, she continued, with a huff, "Dinner. I'm starving. I'm surprised that Ron, at least, didn't come up with such an easy one." She looked at her brother.

"I had a snack just before you arrived," admitted Ron. "I'm okay for at least another ten minutes."

* * *

After dinner, which had the unavoidable consequence of informing Hermione, once again, just how much more proficient the new redhead was in the culinary arts than she, they retreated to the parlor. The room had a distinct split personality character to it. Some of the furniture actually matched and maintained a semblance of a genre, in this case Edwardian. Paintings of early twentieth century gardens hung on the walls, obviously donated by Luke. Interspersed between the trappings of style and good taste, framed posters of the Chuddley Canons, oddly shaped tables and an eclectic variety of multi-colored, though ultimately comfortable chairs and couches had inserted themselves. It was anyone's guess as to which of the newlywed's inclinations would eventually become dominant. Over the mantle, however, just to the side of the large portrait of Ron and Honey still in their wedding clothes, hung a small photo taken many years earlier of three precocious first years sitting on a bench in the Hogwarts courtyard. From the look of the trees behind them, it must have been the middle of Fall, just after their friendship had been forged in a girl's bathroom.

Hermione examined the photo and remarked, "Speaking of clueless first years, I have the homework from your classes." She summoned her bookcase from their suite. Opening the door, she typed a few letters before pulling out a stack of parchments that barely made it through the opening.

"My goodness," exclaimed Honey. "That's more than I usually assign in a month."

"I know," said Hermione with a slight air of distaste. "The little, ah, students made that quite clear. So, that's first year." She fiddled with the buttons before pulling out another, even larger stack. Plopping it on the table, she said, "Here's second year." As Honey watched in shock, Hermione followed with third, sixth and seventh years homework.

"How far into the syllabus did you get?" she asked in amazement.

"Not very," replied Hermione with resignation. "We spent more than a little time reviewing. Most of your students seem to have amnesia. The spells themselves were misspoken half of the time while the wand work is a fading memory. I left notes for you on how far they've all progressed. I'd recommend a few more classes devoted to the proper use of magic, though."

Honey looked shocked at the nearly three foot tall pile of parchments straining the small end table before mustering a feeble, "I'll look them over." She looked back at the rest of them before regaining some composure. "Thank you for taking over for me." She smiled and reached out to give Hermione a hug which the younger witch was gracious enough to receive.

"It wasn't a problem," said Hermione. "If I have any divination ability at all, it's enough to see that we'll know each other for a very long time. I expect that we'll be doing each other favors for years to come."

"Oh, I hope so," said Honey. "This has been such a wonderful week." She smiled broadly and spun around before becoming more serious and sitting down. "It's just that whenever I find myself planning my garden or thinking of the changes I want to make to my classes next year, it all comes back what must happen before that life could come true." She seemed to take a depressed turn.

"Actually," said Harry, "we've been making some progress with a little unexpected help."

"Really?" asked Ron. "What sort of progress and from who?" He had lowered his carpet onto the sofa next to Honey and grabbed a cookie from a nearby tray. It had been almost twenty minutes since supper, after all.

"Greyback," said Hermione. "He's been writing almost twenty hours a day since Sunday. Anything and everything he knows about Voldemort."

"And that's putting it mildly," offered Ginny. She and Neville had also been recruited to organize the plethora of tales and anecdotes. Neville, while making a valiant attempt, had to excuse himself, from time to time, due to the sometimes savage accounts presented. Ginny, however, didn't seem to have any problems.

"What do you mean?" asked Honey. "Why is he helping so much?"

"He wants me to cure him," said Harry. "He's willing to do anything."

"So," asked Ron, "has he hit the bull's-eye, yet?" He tried not to blush be he had little choice when trying to conceal anything, especially from his sister.

"Not yet," said Hermione. "Just so you don't run out of euphemisms, we've told some of the truth to Ginny and Neville. They know we're looking for anything to do with horcruxes or soul splitting."

"Just none of the details," said Ginny. "We aren't to mention that word to anyone, as well." She smiled smugly at Hermione, beating her to the punch.

"That's right," said Harry. "Unfortunately, that's the one area that he's never mentioned."

"Surprisingly," said Hermione, "since he's written about twice as much as is setting on the table." She indicated the tottering pile of homework.

"I think that might be slowing down a bit," said Ginny. "He actually had to ask to see the index to make sure he wasn't repeating himself."

"That's sort of the depressing part," said Harry. "He's about as high as they go in the Death Eaters and has been with Voldemort since the beginning yet he doesn't seem to have a clue about the one thing that we're interested in."

"Neither did Pettigrew," said Hermione. "It's funny, though. The two Death Eaters closest to Voldemort have been the most cooperative. I'm not sure if Greyback hasn't already met his side of the bargain." She looked worriedly at Harry.

"I gave him his arm back, already," said Harry. "Of course that was out of necessity. It sped up his writing considerably."

"That's true," said Neville. "I wish I had his penmanship. It makes me feel downright clumsy when I compare our lettering."

"I know," said Harry. He sat thoughtfully, for just a second. Shrugging, he said, "I have almost a month to do it but I suppose he's earned a cure."

"Just don't tell him until you're sure he's told it all," suggested Ron.

"Good point, Ron," said Hermione. She then sprang her head back in surprise. "Ron," she said suddenly.

"What?" asked Ron, equally surprised.

"You're talking," exclaimed Hermione, as if discovering a new passage to India.

"He's been talking all night," said Honey. She and Ron both looked confused but the rest of them realized what it was that Hermione meant.

"Of course he has," said Ginny, suddenly standing and approaching her brother. "He's just not mucking up any of the words."

"Oh," said Ron. "We were getting pretty close by the wedding. After a couple of days of honeymooning, we decided to just dedicate the rest of the time to learning to speak properly."

"It only took a day or so," said Honey, beaming. "With nothing else pressing in on us, Ron and I gave it our full attention."

"That's fantastic," beamed Harry, walking over and slapping Ron on the back. "All you need is a little time and you'll be good as new." He stepped back and put his arm around Hermione as the two of them, along with Ginny, still standing nearby, basked in the glow of new hope.

Honey also smiled broadly but Ron's countenance slipped into a touch of resignation. Hermione noticed this, of course.

"What is it, Ron?" she asked, also showing her insight by being concerned.

"Well," said Ron, hesitantly, "we aren't ruling anything out but...well, after we were so successful with talking, we decided to give my other problem a good go." He paused, as Honey, although silent, spoke volumes by bowing her head in sadness. "It isn't working," he said, finally. "I can feel it when Honey touches me and my legs seem to react, at times to pin pricks and such, but as for making them move when I want them to, I can't even manage a flinch."

"It's still too soon," said Ginny, pleadingly. "You just need more time. I'll bet by this time next year you'll have sorted everything out."

"We certainly hope so," said Honey, trying to be optimistic. "Don't get us wrong. We aren't giving up. It's just that we need to be realistic. If Ron does get better, it'll probably take a long time."

"So what else have you been up to?" asked Ron. He wanted to change the subject and didn't feel like subtlety.

There was a pause as everyone caught on. "We have a good idea on how to get by the drops of magma but don't have a clue on what to do when we come across the fire golem," said Hermione. "We have our suspicions that Voldemort made some sort of a deal with it. If we can find out what it might want, we could do the same."

"I'd just as soon not fight it," added Harry.

"I don't blame you, mate," said a shocked Neville. He and Ginny hadn't heard about their earlier expedition to Mt. Etna.

"How would you fight one, anyway?" asked Ginny.

"No idea," said Hermione, flatly. "The only instances I've found so far are where people managed to escape with their lives."

"And they all had help," added Harry. "Almost always," he looked at Hermione for confirmation, "actually, I think I have to change that to always. They had someone who stayed behind to allow them to get out. No one's actually defeated a fire golem; at least no one's written about it afterwards."

"The whole deal is pretty much a mystery," said Hermione. "We also don't know where you could put the object containing the horcrux where it wouldn't melt."

"There's that horcrux, again," said Ginny. "You want to find out what Greyback knows about them because you think Voldemort made one and gave it to a fire golem to guard?"

"We know he gave it to it," said Hermione. "We're trying to find the others."

"How many are there?" asked Neville. It was a fair question.

"We don't know," answered Ron. "We used to think there were six but that might have changed."

"Harry destroyed one and Dumbledore did another," said Hermione. "We have a third in our possession and know where a fourth one is, besides the one we've been talking about. One was destroyed when Voldemort and Pettigrew used it to resurrect him. For a while, we thought that was all but Luna pointed out that Voldemort would probably have replaced the ones he knew were lost or destroyed."

"Why are they so important?" asked Ginny. Another fair question.

The principal teens looked around their little group before Hermione gave the consensus answer. "Without going into too many details," she said, "the end of the story is that they all have to be destroyed before Voldemort can die."

"They keep him alive?" asked Ginny.

"In a nutshell, yes," answered Ron.

"And you don't know where they all are?" asked Neville.

"Correct," answered Harry. "Or how many. And they're also very hard to get, either by their location or their guards."

"Guards like fire golems," said Ginny.

"That's right," said Hermione. "So you can see that the more information we have, the better."

"What will you do if you can't find out what sort of a deal was made by You-Know-Who?" asked Neville.

"Martha had a good idea," said Harry. "From what Peter told us, Voldemort wasn't expecting an immediate attack. He had the impression that a deal was prearranged and that everything would be handled as a business transaction. We might just try to make arrangements with the golem after we get there."

"That sounds just a little dangerous," commented Ginny.

"No worse than busting in and attacking him," said Harry. "Hermione's going to keep trying to find other clues until next Thursday. We're hosting the herd tomorrow so it's not likely we'd be able to work in a visit to Sicily, anyway. It's also a good opportunity to use them to provide security for the Hogsmeade visit from Hogwarts."

"We read about that in the paper," said Honey. "I suppose that eight visiting dragons would tend to scare off even the Death Eaters."

"We're hoping so," agreed Hermione. "I'd expect them to try some observations, though. Slider's agreed to suspend his own surveillance activities to coordinate his team for additional protection."

"I feel confident," said Ginny. "I'm glad you're doing this, to tell you the truth. Some of the girls in my dorm have been complaining loud and long about the prospect of being stuck in the school all Winter."

"There's Christmas break," said Hermione, "although that's two months away."

"Exactly," said Ginny. "If this works out, I'd like to see it repeated in November. A month is about all that anyone can stand being locked up."

"If it works out," repeated Harry, "then I think McGonagall will be okay with it. She's very excited about talking with the dragons."

"She can have them," said Ginny. "I'm excited about getting into Madam Puddifoot's with a certain romantiphobic individual." She looked meaningfully at Neville.

"I don't know what more you want out of me," exclaimed Neville, flustered.

"I know," said Ginny, coldly. "I'm hoping for some new ideas to pop into that head of yours. Madam Puddifoot's has all sorts of atmosphere to help that sort of thing."

"It didn't help Harry with Cho," said Hermione.

"Harry didn't help Harry with Cho," said Ron. "Really. What did you expect when you mentioned during your date, on Valentine's Day, of all times, that you had arranged to see Hermione later."

"You told a girl you were dating that you had another date later on?" asked Honey. She hadn't heard this particular tale before.

"I didn't have a date with Hermione," said Harry. "We had just arranged to meet for lunch and talk for a bit."

"I hate to tell you this, Harry," said Ginny, "but most dates consist of meeting someplace to eat and talk."

"But it was just with Hermione," said Harry. "We talked all the time. Why would it bother her then, all of a sudden?"

"Because you're only supposed to notice her when you're on a date," explained Hermione. "You should never have planned to see me or any other girl while you were out with Cho. Of course she was upset."

"I see," said Harry. He thought for a moment and then said, "Wait a moment. It was you who asked to meet me. If you knew all of this and you knew I'd be on a date with Cho, why didn't you warn me? Why did you even ask me, for that matter?"

"Well," said Hermione, stalling for time as everyone waited for her answer. Ginny, especially, had a knowing look on her face. "It mustn't have crossed my mind. I wanted you to meet Rita and all."

The other girls laughed. "Oh, Hermione," said Honey, smiling. "I've only known you a couple of months but for you to sit there and say something that obvious never crossed your mind; _your mind_; well; it defies belief."

"Are you implying that I'd intentionally sabotage Harry's date with Cho just on the chance that they'd break up?" asked Hermione.

"Of course you did," said Ginny. "Cho wouldn't like that at all. That was obvious. You had to take a different tact when Harry and I were dating, though. I think you were hedging your bets by dating Ron. If Harry and I had stayed together and gotten married, you and Ron would still be a part of Harry's life. It's not like these two will ever be less than brothers." She indicated Harry and her real brother. "I think that with me, you just had to wait for me to screw things up on my own."

"I can't believe you'd think such a thing," said Hermione. "You make me out as some sort of a , well, I don't know..."

"Scarlet woman?" suggested Harry and Ron, together. They both broke out into laughter at the joint pronouncement but Hermione didn't think it was funny.

"Yes," said Hermione, stiffly. "I did everything I could to stay out of your way. I never..."

"You never did or said anything that would cast me in a negative light," finished Ginny. "That's what I mean. You were very understanding and supportive of both Harry and me. No demands. No divisive comments. You really played dirty. You knew it was only a matter of time before my jealousy got the better of me and I'd say something to Harry about spending less time with you or even demanding he stop seeing you, altogether. He'd have dropped me like a handful of dung." The conversation had started out as a bit of a joke but Ginny had switched to expressing her true thoughts.

"Ginny!" Hermione had had enough. "You're making me out to be some sort of horrid, scheming gold digger. I can't believe..."

"Don't misunderstand me," commanded Ginny. "I just said you were quite understanding when Harry and I were dating, didn't I?"

"It was the way you said it," snapped Hermione, "like I was plotting and pulling strings to make sure that it didn't work out for the two of you."

"I'm afraid I'll have to take Hermione's side on this," said Harry, putting his arm around his wife. "Not just because my life depends on it, either."

"Fine," snapped Ginny. She stood seething for a moment before she suddenly calmed down and sighed. "I don't know why I go off like that, from time to time. I promised to be supportive and I meant it." She took Hermione's hand and said, "Please forgive me. I've had a crush on Harry since I was ten years old. Sometimes, I just... I don't know. Just forget I said anything." She returned to a slightly crestfallen Neville and took a sip from her drink.

They all sat silently for a moment before Hermione, apparently recalling that Ginny had made a request of her, said, "Of course I forgive you. It's not like this sort of thing hasn't come up before."

"What sort of thing?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"Oh, you being you," explained Hermione. "All your fan mail, with the corresponding hate mail sent my way. I'll bet some mothers have been dreaming of having you marry their daughters since you were two. I'm sure Molly was one of them." She looked at Ginny but it was Ron who blushed and had to look away, smiling. "Even those dragon wenches want to get their claws in Harry," concluded Hermione.

"Add to that all the heroics over the years," added Honey, "and Harry's the ultimate 'One that got away'."

"Exactly," said Ginny. "I know I shouldn't feel this way but that's how it is, sometimes. It's hard not to."

"Thanks," said Neville, miffed.

"Oh, don't be that way," chided Ginny. "I think this visit just put it all in sharp relief. Harry and Hermione acting so happy and perfect for each other. Ron has the girl of his dreams." She pause briefly before continuing with, "I'm not sure what Honey gets out of the deal. In my saner moments, I'm happy enough with who I've got." She leaned back into Neville, snuggling in a bit. After a moment's hesitation, he relented and put his arm around her.

"Before the spell's broken," said Ron, rising on his carpet, "I want to go over some of the plans I have for the team, this year." He floated over to a corner hutch and pulled out a raft of parchments. "You can join us, if you like, Neville." Neville, deciding very quickly that perhaps a break from Ginny before she goes off on him might be in his best interest, joined Ron and Harry at a table near the side of the room.

"While the boys are doing that," said Honey, "I've sketched out some plans for my gardens, next year. Would you two like to see them?" She walked over to the same cupboard and pulled out a similar stack as Ron's.

"When were you two able to find the time to work on all of this?" asked Hermione, shocked.

"We had the whole week off," said Honey, patiently. "We can only do 'you know what' for so long, you know. We both had other items on our agenda once in a while." She led them onto the back porch. With a wave of her wand, the yard lanterns quickly bloomed into a soft, yellow light. Honey pulled the top parchment over the railing.

"Now," continued Honey, unaware of Hermione's feelings about covering her classes so that she could plan her garden, "over to the left, from the edge of the walkway to this side of the large oak, I'm planning on a raised area for herbs."

The evening progressed well into the night as the two groups, after making the obvious adjustment of having Neville join the garden club while Ginny gave her detailed views on the state of all things Quidditch, left Hermione as the only one disinterested in either subject. She was a good sport, though, but took every opportunity to remind everyone that they had another event planned for the following day until, at last, the party broke up.

* * *

October 25th, 1997

Late morning on the South Lawn, just to the west of the lake.

"Go away," commanded Hermione. She loved animals but didn't want to become attached to this one, in particular. It wasn't easy. Those big brown eyes and long lashes just screamed out "Love me!" Returning her attention to the business at hand, she addressed the young elf before her.

"Here's the list, Flower," said Hermione, handing a parchment to the elf. "I'd expect that a few people will be wondering how some of us are able to stay alive during a major dragon battle but don't tell them anything. This is still secret. Most importantly, though, is don't let anyone use their wands on the dragons. They won't like what happens."

"Yes, Miss Hermione," said Flower. She was a young house-elf that was a former map reader. That position was temporarily drastically reduced in number since Voldemort had hidden his men from them in a crude, but effective manner. Although not wishing to join the Hogwarts Free Elves, Flower enjoyed serving the cause against Voldemort in other ways. She and about a dozen other elves would be providing a perimeter around the main dragon picnic area, mostly for the protection of everyone except the dragons and their guests. They could take care of themselves very well.

"Bessie, here, might try to join the rest of us, at some point, but we can prevent that if it becomes a problem," continued Hermione with a look of annoyance at the cow. She knew that was her name from the inscription on the bell hanging around her neck. "The sheep don't seem inclined to wander but that might change when we get nearer to lunch time. Just make sure they all stay in this part of the grounds."

"Of course, Miss Hermione," answered Flower with just a bit of a bewildered voice. Bessie continued in her attempts to nuzzle Hermione gently. Hermione closed her eyes and shooed the cow away. "I don't want to get to know you," she stated. The cow, formerly from a dairy farm and on friendly terms with most humans, repeated her attempt to get some affection from Hermione.

"Go away," repeated Hermione. "I don't want to pet you or scratch your ears or anything." Reluctantly, the cow finally retreated towards a small shade tree.

Hermione averted her eyes and, to have something else to think about, looked at her watch. She said, "They should be arriving any time now. Harry's bringing them in, this being their first visit. I guess they'll get here when they get here. I'll be back in a while with everyone else."

"Yes, Miss Hermione," repeated Flower. She was, as stated, a young elf who's temperament was of a more retiring nature than most. Being a map reader, she was able to remain in the background except on the rare occasions when she spotted a Death Eater. Although she had volunteered to help out today, she had thought her services would be more along the lines of serving food and drinks, not acting as bouncer for a party of dragons. Still, Miss Hermione had not acted like it would be a big deal so she tried to remain calm. She could always call for help if necessary.

* * *

As Hermione left to check on the other arrangements for the day, a quite different group waited high up the slope of the mountain. Snape stood with a dozen other Death Eaters as Lord Voldemort peered through a tripod mounted set of omnioculars. The steam slipping from around his collar was a sign of the warming charm he had cast on his robes to ward off the chill, fall air.

"The flow of students seems to be slowing from the school," commented Lord Voldemort. "There's still no sign of the dragons. Perhaps that was just a ruse. No matter. The plan will proceed, nevertheless. We'll give them a while longer to fully occupy the attention of the villagers and then send in Amycus and Alecto." He turned his attention to Snape. "You've explained to Preston that his mission is to observe, not interfere?""Yes, Master," replied Snape. "He has been strictly instructed to remain hidden." Amycus and Alecto Carrow were two of Voldemort's oldest and most loyal followers. With their experience and abilities, they had been entrusted with the preliminary scouting mission, but their value, it seemed, didn't surpass that of the Dark Lord's rapidly dwindling supply of invisibility cloaks.

"Very well," replied Voldemort and returned to his observations. "Some sheep and what appears to be a cow? Odd. In the field between the lake and Hogwarts. Make a note of that, as well." The Death Eater acting as scribe complied. "I see no elves in red. Perhaps they are hidden. Amycus might have some news when he returns." Lord Voldemort returned to his survey, unaware or uncaring of the thoughts of his followers concerning his apparent lack of confidence in engaging villagers and schoolchildren without extensive reconnaissance.

* * *

Two elderly witches took a meandering route to the lake. The younger of the two had the slower gait, not having had the advantage of being cured of most physical infirmities by Harry Potter. She also had a fairly important conflict between her duty to maintain patient confidentiality and her obligation to protect one of the schools more vulnerable students.

"Minerva," began Poppy, making her decision. "I need to discuss something that shouldn't go beyond the two of us, for the time being." She waited for the sprightly septuagenarian leading the way to slow to her pace.

"Of course, Poppy," said Minerva, obligingly curbing her eagerness to talk to some fellow Scots, albeit fire-breathing ones. "I believe I know the subject, though. Your interest in Professor Triffle has been obvious to the point of..."

"It's not that," snapped Poppy, blushing a bit. "This is serious. It concerns Luna Lovegood and that new student, Dougal Weasley." She said Dougal's name with a twinge of disgust in her voice. "I think that he might be abusing her."

"Dra... er, Dougal?" asked Minerva, shocked. She actually stopped to discuss this without being distracted by having to pay attention to the path.

"I'm sure of it," said Poppy, also stopping. She looked about to see if anyone was nearby. "Last night, she stopped in with a cut to her cheek. It was more of a deep scrape, to be precise. I asked her how she had done that and she said she preferred not to say. I assumed at the time that it was an embarrassing accident and fixed her up. Then, this morning, she stopped in with what appeared to be a bruise below her eye. I noticed similar marks on the undersides of her arms, as well. That's a common indicator of someone using her arms to protect herself from being beaten. I wanted to call you right away but she begged me not to inform anyone. She said she could take care of it. Again, that's a fairly common response. I don't want to wait until something permanently damaging occurs so I think we need to handle this situation as soon as possible."

Minerva was shocked. "I... I'm not sure I can believe it, Poppy," she stammered out. "This is such a sudden change. They seem so close; so much in love."

"I know," said Poppy, "but who else could it be?" She waited for a response but Minerva, after thinking a moment, threw up her arms and shrugged.

Starting to walk again, she said, "I'm sure I don't know, Poppy. I don't want to jump to conclusions, though. I'll speak with Luna at the first opportunity. We've spoken on a few occasions and she doesn't seem to be too intimidated by me. I'm sure we can resolve this."

"I certainly hope so," responded the nurse as they resumed their journey.

* * *

Speak of the Devil...

In Hogsmeade, just outside of The Three Broomsticks.

"Let's stop for a butterbeer," suggested Dougal, indicating The Three Broomsticks. He and Luna had come into town for their first trip as a couple. After tutoring for three weeks, he had earned nine galleons and wanted to treat his girl to lunch and a few other niceties. As a once rich son in an aristocratic family, he had felt quite ashamed by his sudden pauper status. It was brought into sharp relief at Luna's birthday party. She had looked enchanting in her shimmering dress and expensive jewelry. He had no way to give her anything that would come close and it bothered him. When he later found out that his former arch enemy, Harry Potter, had given her both the dress and the jewelry, he decided to do something to raise some money of his own. About his only option was tutoring. He wasn't a natural teacher but found, to his surprise, that he actually was pleased when his formerly ignorant charges finally figured out something due to his efforts. The most important benefit, at the moment, was being paid. He was out with Luna and had spending money.

* * *

"Form a battle stream!" shouted Harry, over his shoulder. He had dropped out of cloud cover to get his bearings and had just spotted the castle over the crest of the next hill. The other dragons complied and formed a single line behind him; drafting as good as could be expected to maintain the current, excessive speed. Harry formed a windbreak for them, not being affected himself due to his new goggles. The whipping of the scarf was a bit distracting but he wouldn't leave it behind since he loved the overall effect. They were coming in at around five hundred feet but that was about to change. As the lake suddenly opened up beneath them, Harry stretched out his right forearm and held out three clawed fingers; then two; then one.

With a sudden dive, they all descended to about three feet off the surface, Harry leading the way. By prearranged agreement, they flared out until nearly half the width of the lake was covered with dragon wings. Harry smacked his lips as he saw the sheep, patiently waiting for their arrival, coming up fast. With a laugh he couldn't suppress, he pulled up just over the top of his wife and their other guests.

"Bloody hell!" shouted Hermione, brushing off her now drenched robes. Harry apparently hadn't fully grasped the concept of suction when he pulled up from his lake skimming demonstration. "I'm sorry," she continued to her companions. "I'm married to an idiot. What can I say?" She pulled her wand and began to dry herself before proceeding to the others.

"It's not a problem," said Poppy, smiling. She also began to dry herself. "I think it was worth it for the adrenaline rush alone."

"Shut up and get my heart started, again," snapped Minerva, clutching her chest. She was still reclining on her lounge chair but hadn't made an attempt to dry herself, yet.

"That was the... the wickedest... the wickedest bloody thing I've ever seen," stuttered a beaming Charlie. "I've never seen dragons flying in formation before. That is just so cool." He trudged over in his soaked robes to retrieve his hat, blown some thirty yards away. He, unlike the ladies, had not ducked during the flyover.

"I'll admit that it was an impressive demonstration," said Hermione. "I just wish he'd have given us some warning that he would be doing it."

"I dunna know wha you all're complainin' about," said Hagrid. "Nine dragons 'ave come ta visit. Wha more could'ya ask fer? Ouch!" He jumped as his latest bundle of joy, Kristy, attempted to dry off 'Mommy' with a few misplaced blasts of fire. "I tol' ya, Kristy; don't do tha' so close'ta Mommy." Kristy was chastened for just a moment but quickly returned her attention to the circling group coming in for a landing.

"Dar, dar," she shouted, gazing up at the sky. Dragon Harry was circling above his group as the rest spiraled down in an ever tightening tornado of dragons. Harry began to allow himself to float down as they approached the ground, alighting on his feet and transforming just as the rest touched down. With a bow, he approached his human friends.

"Hello, everyone," he called out joyously. "Before I begin the introductions, has everyone been treated?" He had warned his dragon friends to remain quiet until he could check on that.

"Treated and bathed," said Hermione, walking towards him with her hands on her hips. She left her dour expression behind as she reached up and gave him a kiss. "I think you should let me handle the introductions while you take a turn over Hogsmeade. I'm sure that Death Eaters must be watching and I wouldn't want any of them to get any ideas about causing trouble."

"Good idea," said Harry. "I'll be back in a bit." Calling up to his largest friends, he said, "Hermione will introduce you while I check out Hogsmeade. Someone might be about that could cause trouble before we start with the air cover." He took a running start away from everyone before returning to his dragon form.

Hermione began to speak in her loudest speaking voice. "Let's start with the introductions. Since it looks like the ladies are impatient, we'll start with the newest member of the herd. We told you about her hatching just last week as I'm sure you'll remember. Everyone; this is Kristy " A chorus of "Ahh's" arose as Hagrid proudly held up his adopted daughter.

* * *

Amycus and Alecto Carrow, disguised as elderly villagers, walked slowly into Hogsmeade by the north road. Just a few yards behind, Peter Preston followed under his invisibility cloak. This was to be a preliminary survey of the town before more serious forces would be committed. Preston had only joined a year and a half ago but this level of caution seemed excessive to him. The Carrows, although less subtle than some, were capable of taking care of themselves. He began to wonder, as did many of the other regulars, whether or not their master had lost some of his nerve concerning Harry Potter. Of course none of them knew the others had doubts. It just wasn't the sort of topic that you could discuss openly, if at all. He shook it off as best he could. He needed his wits about him, just in case.

* * *

Curly and Millie watched from their hiding place as the two old people passed them by. The map remained blank, of course, so Slider was summoned. He wore one of the two invisibility cloaks assigned to the elves. After Slider shared a moment's silent discussion with Curly, Jumper arrived clad in the other cloak. The two of them didn't want to alert the two Death Eaters so they approached on foot. When they had made up most of the ground, Slider sensed the third member of the scouting party. Smiling to himself, he began to decide who would get this next cloak.

* * *

"The Carrows are entering Hogsmeade," reported Voldemort. His assistant recorded the information as well as the time. "Just as well. Anyone on the outlying roads would be of more interest to Potter." They had noticed, of course, as Harry and his crew flew in over the lake. Harry had shortly returned to the air and begun one of the promised flights over the village. He watched for a moment as the townsfolk pointed and waved as he flew over. Idiots. The last time they saw Potter in this form, he had come to save them from Lucius and dozens of his men. The mudblood had helped, as well. Their time would come for retribution. Maybe not today, but soon. The way everyone was carrying on, you'd have thought that they had never seen a dragon before. Despite this thought, he also took a moment to observe his foe. Something caught his eye. "What's that fool have around his neck?" he asked, rhetorically. Turning his omnioculars towards the sky above Hogsmeade, although still lower than their position, he said, "I don't believe it. He's wearing some sort of a scarf. It also looks like there's some type of a helmet or other protection for his eyes. We'll have to print out some photographs when we return and check on that."

The other Death Eaters, even Snape, couldn't help themselves. They all peered into the distance, shading their eyes for a glimpse of this strange sight. More than one wished he could use the omnioculars but dared not ask. There would be opportunity enough to watch it later, it seemed, assuming that the rest of the mission went reasonably well.

Voldemort watched for a bit longer before he returned his attention to his advance force. After a moment, he muttered, "Where are they?" He scanned the street where they were last seen and those nearby. Nothing. He replayed the action on his omnioculars to be sure he was searching the right street. He was. Did they go inside a building? He didn't know. Backing out to a wider view, he watched and waited. After five minutes passed, he felt he might know why they were out of sight.

"Check the tracking charm," he commanded. "Where are the Carrows, now?"

Snape removed the charm from his cloak. Casting the activation spell to track Amycus Carrow, he observed it as it spun around, pointing into the side of the mountain. With a sigh, he said, "They are to the north, my lord. The distance is on the extreme end of the scale and imprecise. At least one thousand miles."

"Damn!" shouted Voldemort, throwing down the omnioculars in a rage. "How could they be discovered and captured so quickly? Potter wasn't even involved." He watched with clenched fists as Dragon Harry soared serenely over Hogsmeade.

"Perhaps Preston will be able to offer some information," suggested Snape. He then had a thought but decided to not mention it, at least not yet.

Voldemort had the same thought and, reluctant as well, proceeded to order, "Where is Preston?" He sounded like someone who already knew the answer.

A few seconds later, Snape, hesitant and with good reason, said, "He seems to have also been..."

"No!" shouted Voldemort.

* * *

"Well, this seems to be the day for Weasley's," said Madam Puddifoot. Indeed, when Dougal and Luna entered her shop a short time after leaving The Three Broomsticks, they found themselves surrounded by flaming red hair. Ginny and Neville sat by the window while Ron and Honey, perhaps hoping to have a bit of privacy, occupied the far corner next to the kitchen. "Of course we're no where near the record," she continued. "There was a time when you couldn't swing a dead cat over your head without hitting one. Not so many now, of course, But I have hopes that we'll get another batch in a while."

"That's true," said Ginny. "In fact..." She cast a meaningful glance at her brother and his bride.

"Really?" asked a gushing Madam Puddifoot, rushing over to Honey. "My. You're not wasting any time, are you?"

"I suppose not," said Honey, deciding that there wasn't any hope of keeping a cap on the information. Too many people knew the cause of her red hair and had put two and two together. "I'm glad to get started early, though. We both want lots of children."

"I don't think you've got much of a choice," said Ginny. "I believe the smallest litter we've had in the family was five, and that was two generations ago."

"Personally," said Luna, "I'm hoping for four. That seems to be the best number."

"Why four?" asked Dougal. He then had the sudden insight that he hadn't recoiled at the idea and instead merely asked for her reasoning. Gad, he thought, I've got it bad for this girl.

"Silly," she teased. "That way they'll always have a partner for games. You know; for exploding snap for example."

"Oh," said Dougal, smiling. "I suppose that makes sense, then." He reached down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before they took their place.

"You must be anxious to get started," said Neville, smirking at the innuendo.

"Maybe not just yet," said Luna. "I think we'll wait until I'm of age. I wouldn't want Dougal to get into trouble if something unexpected happened." She looked at Ginny and added, "Not that I'd try to interfere, of course, but you might want to slow things down a bit, yourself; for a while."

"I'm not concerned," said Ginny, "although there's no telling what would turn red on Neville."

Neville's face, at least, was up to the challenge.

The next hour was spent with Ron taking hypocrisy to new heights while counseling his willful younger sister against participating in the exact same activities that he and his two weeks pregnant wife of one week had engaged since almost the day they had met.

* * *

"I must say," said Harry, working on a chicken wing, "I'm a bit surprised that Rufus and Greta didn't join us. Didn't he believe that the dragons would behave themselves?" He looked up for a moment as Osgar and Sorcha flew overhead, returning from their turn over Hogsmeade.

"Oh, he wanted to come," said Minerva. "Unfortunately, he received an emergency call around four o'clock this morning and had to rush to the Ministry. He said he'd come back as soon as he could." She instinctively looked at her watch before returning her attention back to the last bite of her pumpkin pie.

"That's too bad," said Hermione. "I know that Greta would have loved to have met the herd."

"Just a moment," interrupted Poppy. "Did you say that he was summoned at four o'clock and was coming back?"

"Yes," said Minerva. "There was some sort of a disturbance at, ah... well... I mean, he said that... ah..." She trailed off, ignoring the smirk on her old friend's face.

"Don't be embarrassed, Minerva," said Poppy. "I'm actually a bit jealous. It's been quite a while since I've had the opportunity to screw up a cover story. Congratulations."

"So why isn't Greta here, at least?" asked Hermione. "Did she go back with Rufus?"

"No," said Minerva. "It's only a floo trip to his house, you see. Greta, like all little girls, sleeps better in her own room."

"Doesn't that much floo powder get a little expensive?" asked Harry, innocently. Charlie sprayed butterbeer through his nose as he burst out in laughter. He was joined by everyone except for Minerva who was busy rejuvenating the full dilation abilities of her facial capillaries after years of disuse.

Deciding that the lack of a response might indicate that the Headmistress had reached her saturation point regarding further discussion of her choice of bed warmer, Harry strategically removed himself and joined his larger friends. "No you don't, Finnean," shouted Harry, taking a few running strides before transforming. "I called dibs on the cow." Finnean had been holding, although not yet harming, a sheep in his mouth before examining Bessie with a suggestively contemplative look.

Now that Harry was in his 'normal' dragon form, Finnean decided to let the big bully have his way and went back to his first choice with fiery expertise. "She's all yours, Harry," he called, after finishing his first course. "I think she's a bit more than a mouthful, anyway."

"I can manage," replied Harry. Deciding that a little practice of eating on the run, or on the fly, in his case, was in order, Harry rose to a thousand feet before majestically arcing back towards his prey. Bessie, not having even a slow wit, watched with bovine patience and mild interest as the large beast approached. Her last thoughts are, of course, not available but it could be assumed to have had a fairly large component of surprise; a supposition supported by the higher than normally pitched 'moo' she uttered. As this was her last word, it is unfortunate that no one understood her.

After about fifteen seconds, another situation presented itself.

"Idiot!" shouted Hermione. "Don't you know enough to chew your food?" Dragon Harry was coughing mildly but repetitively, something having apparently become stuck in his throat. He landed and attempted to thump his chest with his forearm but dragons aren't built that way.

"Move your wings!" shouted Hermione. She waited for compliance and then quickly cast a strong bludgeoning spell at his stomach. With a final hack, the obstruction was ejected and fell, quite unexpectedly and unwanted, at her feet. The dull clang of the charred clapper reminded her all too well of the previous owner.

* * *

"Portus," invoked Voldemort, holding up a length of rope. It was an unusual choice for a portkey but several men would be using it. Handing the rope to Snape, he returned one last time to check on his foe.

"Potter is still with the others," said Voldemort. Looking at the previously located elves, he added, "The regular house elves are still maintaining their position on the perimeter." He swung back towards Hogsmeade. "I see five red-cloaked elves at this time." A pause. "The others must be nearby. That is good. The time is now." He returned to the bulk of his men. Twenty stood ready, wearing heavy arctic parkas and boots. Most were already holding the rope while a small contingent, wearing regular garb, stood nearby. Voldemort spoke to them. "Gather everything and return to headquarters. With luck, we shall join you with our lost comrades. After so much time in the cold, their condition might require medical attention. Have the medical supplies from my other strongholds brought there. Although it appears that most of the main targets are accounted for, we might have prisoners. Prepare extra cells, just in case."

"Yes, Master," said Ives. "We shall be ready." He backed off with the rest of his men. No one said anything, of course, but they all knew that this was definitely 'Plan B'. The original intent was to scout out Hogsmeade, remove or otherwise isolate any potentially troublesome wizards or elves and then launch an attack on Potter and his supporters. The undeniable and absolute failure of the first probe forced Voldemort to abandon that tactic. With so much going against them here, however, it seemed reasonable to conclude that the fabled Fortress of Solitude must not have many defenders. Using a portkey to gain entrance, targeting the unfortunate Amycus Carrow, would ensure that they would gain entry. Having Lord Voldemort himself joining the raid would also make failure in any battle unthinkable.

"Does everyone have their return portkeys?" asked the Dark Lord. The plethora of affirmative responses was the final check. This would be quick. Break in. Grab as many imprisoned Death Eaters and guards as possible and get out. No one, not even Voldemort, wished to fight Harry Potter today.

"Very well," said Voldemort, donning his own parka. Pulling his wand, he took hold of the rope. "On three. One. Two. Three." He touched the rope.

All twenty one men began to rise up, circling each other. They couldn't let go, of course. The spell prevented that. Faster and faster they spun. Finally, the anticipated pulling on their navels slung them into a single point of space as they began the journey. Just as suddenly, they were flung out in all directions as the goblin anti-portkey ward surrounding the northern fortress kicked in. Two Death Eaters were unfortunate enough to strike tree trunks and were knocked out. Most tumbled erratically through the small brush. By a strange trick of Fate, Both Voldemort and Snape slid down the smooth pathway and stopped, uninjured some twenty yards away.

Snape paused a moment to check himself for injuries before attempting to stand. He then noticed the wizard next to him and sprang to his feet. "My Lord," he said in shock. "Are you injured?"

Voldemort lay there quietly for a few moments. He was thinking. Not of inflicting punishment or wreaking havoc on anyone or anything. No, he was thinking of how nice a hot bath would feel, right now. Looking up at Snape, and then at the rest of his men as they quickly surrounded him, he said, "I think it's time to go home." Taking two of the offered hands, he pulled himself to his feet and,without further comment, he apparated away.

Author's note:

I'm sorry it's taking so long between chapters. I think the pace will pick up again. Work is slowing down and the next outside event is the Easter Egg Hunt. The pace of the plotlines should be speedingup and I think the whole story might be wrapped up by chapter 100. Here's hoping, anyway.

Dad


	76. Chapter 76

Chapter 76 - Adventures with Greased Gerbils

October 25th, 1997

Bedtime in Greta's Room

"The brave knight snuck into the dragon's cave just after dark. He could see the rise and fall of the glow when the beast breathed and heard the faint cries of the princess, fearing for her life." Minerva lowered her voice and gave a fake shudder to add to the effect.

Greta pulled her covers slightly higher over her cheeks but still lay in rapt attention, listening to the story. Minerva turned the page.

"Suddenly, the dragon took in a great burst of air through his nostrils and knew that a stranger was near. 'Who dares enter my home?' asked the dragon in a deep, frightening voice. The knight did not speak but silently moved closer to the entrance to the main cavern."

It was unclear whether or not such a story would help prepare a young girl for a restful night's sleep but she had no intentions of missing the ending. All cozied up in her bed for the night, Greta shivered in fear as her eyes remained the size of saucers.

"'I can not see you,' said the monster in a slow, deep voice, 'but I'll hear your blood when it boils.' With that, the dragon sent a stream of flame up the corridor towards the knight."

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Greta in a high, squeaky voice. "Did he get the knight, Miss Minerva?"

"Let's find out," suggested Minerva. "The knight, thinking quickly, rolled to the side of the hall and stuck his shield into a crack while hiding behind it. The flames burst around the corner but were diverted by his quick thinking. He took the opportunity to pull his sword and then scramble a few more yards until he was just outside the main doorway."

"That was close, Miss Minerva," said Greta. "I hope he doesn't get hurt."

"I don't think he will," reassured Minerva. Her father had read her this same story over seventy years earlier and it was one of her favorite memories. She had kept the book, among others, to read to her own children, one day. That day had never come. Now, at last, she was fulfilling one of her last desires. No child had called her Màthair, or Mother. Here, though, was one who might, perhaps someday, call her Grandma.

"I hope not, Miss Minerva," agreed Greta.

"The brave knight peered around the doorway and saw the dragon, reeling back for another great blast. Behind him, chained to the wall, was the princess. Thinking quickly, the knight threw his shield like a discus across the floor to the far end of the chamber. The dragon, thinking that the knight had somehow gotten behind him turned to face the threat. This was the chance the knight needed. Leaping to his feet, he sprinted towards the dragon and, using a treasure chest as a springboard, he hurled himself onto the back of the dragon. The beast lurched from side to side but the knight held on. With a mighty thrust, he sank his sword deep between the wings of the dragon and into his dark heart, killing him."

"What?" shouted Greta, jumping up from under the covers and onto the top of the bed. "He killed him! He killed him!" She ran down the hall to the Minister's bedroom where Rufus had been preparing for bed, himself.

"Grampa! Grampa! The mean old knight killed the poor dragon! He tricked him and then he stabbed him in the back!" Greta threw herself into her grandfather's arms and cried in anguish.

"Greta," called Minerva, rushing into the room, herself. "I'm so sorry, Greta. I thought you were worried about the knight. I didn't realize..."

"Who cares about some mean, nasty knight?" asked Greta, distastefully. "Sneaking into the poor dragon's home and tricking him. He didn't even try to talk to the dragon.

"It's just a story, Greta," said Rufus. "It didn't really happen."

"Yes, it did," countered Greta. "Miss Minerva said it happened a long time ago." She looked at Minerva, accusingly.

"Greta," said Minerva, quietly, "it's just a story. It's make believe."

"Oh, why would anyone write a story like that?" asked Greta, grumpily. "It's just mean, killing that poor dragon."

"Calm down, Greta," said Rufus, holding her on his lap. "Not everyone knows the truth about dragons. Until Harry and Hermione figured out how to talk to them, even I thought they were violent."

"But they're not," said Greta, firing up a bit. "Those other dragons that were at the picnic were very nice. I liked the baby dragon, too." Greta and Rufus had arrived late, but in time to meet the herd that had befriended Harry. The girls, especially, had taken to Greta since she seemed to not have any of the fear that other humans had of dragons.

"That's right," agreed Minerva. "You know a lot of dragons and none of them are like the dragon in the story. Maybe that was just a bad dragon who kidnaped the princess. Regular ones wouldn't think of it."

"Well, maybe," said Greta, tentatively. "That bad knight didn't even try to talk. Why didn't he sit down and talk with the dragon? I wish Harry was here. He'd understand."

"Just try to remember to ask him about bad dragons the next time you see him," said Rufus. "Until then, remember that it's just a story."

"All right, Grampa," said Greta, calmed down for now. Turning to McGonagall, she added with a stern warning, "Just don't read any more of those bad stories to me the next time you come here, okay, Miss Minerva?"

"Of course not," said Minerva, picking up Greta to give her a hug. Together, she and Rufus went to tuck her into her bed. A kiss goodnight from each of them left her satisfied and the crack of light from the hallway through her slightly open door was all the comfort she needed, at the moment.

* * *

October 25th, 1997

130 Miles Due South of the North Pole

"Now we'll find out," said Harry. He was speaking, of course, to the lump of a man before him; Amycus Carrow. This had the effect of confusing not only Carrow, but everyone else in the room. Amycus was petrified as was his sister, Alecto Carrow, and Peter Preston. Of the three, only Amycus retained the ability to move his head and speak. The others in the room with Harry were unencumbered but remained silent, just the same.

"What's that mean, then?" asked Amycus, unconsciously reliving his same confusion from that night in the tower. Harry was aware of it, though, and it didn't improve the wretch's chances of surviving this hour.

"Don't you remember?" asked Harry. "Professor Dumbledore; Dumby, as you called him, was explaining how Draco and the rest of you idiots had managed to overpower him. Old age was his answer. He mentioned that it could happen to you, if you were lucky. You didn't understand what he meant by that." Harry had no need to use magical means to recall that night on the tower when his mentor had died. It was permanently seared into his memory; never to release him. "We'll find out tonight if you'll be lucky."

"What're you on about?" asked Amycus, still confused.

"I just don't know if you'll be worth keeping around," stated Harry. "We have more important senior Death Eaters than you who have, I'd expect, more information than you do and they're being very cooperative. From what I remember, you aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer so your usefulness will be limited, in the best case. You could still cause trouble, though. It might be better to just put you outside."

"You'd let me go free?" asked a confused Amycus. He hadn't expected that.

"Well," began Harry, holding his chin in thought while the rest of his group murmured among themselves, wondering where this was going, "perhaps a demonstration of what 'letting you go', as you put it, really means around here would be helpful."

"Slider," continued Harry, "please take Mr. Carrow outside for, let's see, three seconds and then return him here."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. He reached up to touch Amycus on his arm.

"Wait a moment, Slider," said Hermione. "I'm not sure that such extreme measures..."

"Extreme measures?" asked Harry, indignantly. "I don't think that a few seconds outside is that extreme, do you, Amycus?" He looked at the Death Eater and waited for his reply.

"It all depends, don't it?" asked Amycus.

"It depends on what?" asked Harry. "It's night, if that helps." It didn't seem as if the clue would be of use to the oaf.

"Harry," said Hermione, sharply. "Why are you playing with him?" She didn't like it when this side of his nature surfaced.

"I'm not playing," said Harry. "We have Greyback. We have Pettigrew. Both of them are cooperating. If you'll recall, we thought that it's highly likely that some sort of tracking charm has been placed on this moron. That means he'd have to stay here until we can find out what it is and counter it. I suppose that examining him for that would be worthwhile but it would be inconvenient and we certainly don't need all three. This one here," at this point, he indicated Preston, "looks more useful than either of the Carrows."

"None've us'll help ya, no hows," snarled Amycus. "We won't be betrayin' the Dark Lord."

"You won't?" asked Harry in mock surprise. "You know, that's almost exactly what Greyback said. Of course, he said it without the pirate accent." A couple muffled chuckles were heard from behind him but it didn't deter Carrow.

"You're a liar," snarled Amycus, spitting toward Harry but missing wildly. "The Dark Lord wouldn't'av had nothin' ter do with either of'em iffen they were prone to betrayal. Yer wasten' yer bloody time wif me an my sis if yer think diff'rent."

"Petrificus Totalis," said Harry, returning Amycus to full petrification. He then partially released Preston. "Do you speak English?" he asked, smirking.

"I do," said Preston. "Better than this lot, at least." He gave Amycus a disparaging look.

"That wouldn't take much," said Harry. "Now, down to business. I'm going to guess that your job was to guard these two while they checked out Hogsmeade."

Preston didn't respond at first but, after deciding that this was a pretty obvious conclusion anyway, he nodded.

"Invisibility cloaks are rare but not unheard of," continued Harry. "I have one. Mad-eye Moody had two. Your master had at least two, at one point. They aren't common, though, so I'm also going to guess that you're more trusted than a simple recruit or he wouldn't let you use something so valuable."

"That's true enough," said Preston, proud of his rank and again deciding that he wasn't giving anything away.

"You also aren't drooling all over me," concluded Harry. Again, some laughter from behind him as well as a smirk from Preston. "As I've said, already; Greyback and Pettigrew have concluded that it's better to help me than remain loyal to What's-His-Name. I'm just wondering if you might be as smart as they are and cooperate, a bit."

"If it's information you want," said Preston, "I'd have expected you'd use Veritaserum. In fact, I find it hard to believe you haven't used it already."

"Don't get your hopes up," said Harry. "We have plenty."

"I understand that," replied Preston. "I also knew Greyback and Wormtail. They were both hardened Death Eaters, as far as I could tell. Greyback, especially, didn't seem to be the type to just roll over. How did you turn them?"

Harry paused, distracted by having his interrogatee asking a question. He was thinking about how to respond when Luna said, "Could I speak with you for a moment, Harry?" She waited for him to look her way before she glanced at the far end of the room. Dougal looked a bit surprised at her injecting herself into the interrogation but said nothing. At Harry's nod, all three headed to the designated corner. Make that all six. Hermione and Ron joined the group as did, surprisingly, Slider. Jumper and Sleepy remained behind to guard the prisoners.

Talking softly, Luna said, "I noticed two things about the young one. First, he doesn't like either of the other prisoners. Second, he seems eager to know how, as he put it, you turned the other Death Eaters. He said the last bit with a lot of greed. I think he thinks you might have bribed them, somehow. That might work on him, as well."

"We are bribing Greyback," whispered back Ron. "This bloke was trusted enough to let him provide security for the other two and to use an invisibility cloak. If he cooperated, we might get some up to the minute information. I can't see money being any good, though. He must know we won't be releasing him anytime soon."

"He might just be after preferred treatment," said Dougal. "He wouldn't know anything about how you normally treat prisoners so he might just want to make the best deal that he can, now that he's caught. Or he might think you broke the others, somehow, and doesn't want to go through anything unpleasant. Or he might have his own thoughts on the subject."

"Regardless," said Hermione, "you might have been bluffing a while ago but you were right about none of them being able to go back to our usual cells. Before we wait until the last minute, we should make some arrangements. Slider. How long would it take to add on or make another room like this one, perhaps larger with at least, what?" She looked at her fellows for some assistance before saying, "Maybe ten cells to start?"

"We can be having another room being this big done by tomorrow," said Slider, "if Harry Potter is being able to be making small cells being big on the inside, Mistress Hermione."

"I can do that," agreed Harry. "The new room should also have some comfortable chairs and another table. We'll have to get Remus and at least one of the twins working on this new tracking charm as soon as possible. In the mean time, let's see what our eager new prisoner has in mind."

Harry walked back over to his most pragmatic new prisoner. "All right, Prescott," he began, "I think I speak for everyone when I say that you seem to be a bit on the cooperative side. Why is that, exactly?"

"Because I know something you don't know," said Preston. "The name's Preston, by the way."

"Then I guess you know two things that we don't know," summarized Hermione. "At least Harry didn't know. I suspect you aren't referring to your name so what's the other item?"

"Answer my question about the others and I'll answer yours," offered Preston.

"My," said Harry, "aren't you the demanding one?" He then thought about it and decided that there wasn't any reason to refuse. "Well, the reason that Pettigrew is helping is a little personal but let me just say that he feels that Voldemort would kill him slowly and painfully if he ever caught him so he might as well help me. Greyback was simply a bribe, although a very large one. He's currently writing The Encyclopedia Voldemort to live up to his end of the bargain. He knows everything but Tom's shoe size so only very recent information from you would be of use."

"It's ten and a half, extra wide," said Hermione.

"What is?" asked Harry.

"Voldemort's shoe size," answered Hermione as if Harry were daft.

"Oh," said Harry. "Then ..." Harry paused a moment before asking his wife, "Exactly how did Greyback come by that information?"

"Well," said Hermione, smiling, "now that you've asked, it's a fairly odd story involving scuba diving, fire whiskey and moccasins. You see..."

Five minutes later...

"Wow," said Ron, "it's a good thing he had that backup gerbil all greased up and ready to go."

"I'll say," agreed Preston. He had been as interested in the tale as the others.

Harry returned to the original questioning. "Now, where were we?" he asked.

"I wanted to know how you got Greyback to cooperate in exchange for the reason I might do the same," replied the Death Eater. "The answer is simple; I'm still here and my Master isn't."

"Care to elaborate on that a bit?" asked Ron.

"Sorry," said Preston. "That's recent information. Before we discuss it, I have a more immediate question."

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"Do you have a loo, somewhere?" Preston cocked his head to one side in slight embarrassment.

Instinctively, everyone looked around although they all knew that, no, they didn't have any facilities. "I suppose that we can arrange something," said Harry. "Slider, could you take these three back to the main fortress and allow them to freshen up a bit?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider. "Sleepy will be taking the witch."

"Very well," said Harry. "We should add some restrooms up here, I suppose. Until then, make sure that any prisoners are taken care of. Until we figure out if they're being tracked, though, don't give them any more time than necessary." He then turned to the prisoners. "I'm going to release your petrification charms. Don't try anything. These elves captured you once and they can do it again."

"That is being correct, Harry Potter," agreed Slider, watching the prisoners with a grim expression.

After the prisoners left, they all took seats around the table. "That Preston seems to be quite willing to make the best deal he can," said Luna. "I don't sense any of the loyalty enchantment and from the way he talks and acts, I believe you're right about him being a higher level Death Eater. He isn't in the inner circle but he has some status."

"I agree," said Dougal. "I didn't want to say anything in front of him but I believe he works, or worked, I should say, for Snape."

"That's one strike against him," said Ron. "I wonder what he meant by that 'because I'm still here' comment?"

"That's obvious," said Hermione. She didn't elaborate.

"Of course it is," agreed Harry. "Just so the others don't feel bad, though, why don't you explain it." He didn't have a clue.

"We were right," said Hermione. "All that he could mean was that some sort of a tracking charm was placed on them. Probably another portkey target spell. He expected to have Voldemort and his Death Eaters popping in to rescue him and kill us. That didn't happen. That was his best hope to get out of here. Now, his best choice would be to make a deal with us." Hermione stopped and looked at Harry, concerned. He had risen and was looking about, agitated. "What is it?"

Harry waited a moment more before saying, "It's Greta. Something's wrong." He walked over to the return icons. "Follow me with a few elves as soon as you can." He immediately spoke the password and touched the icon to return him to the Head Suite.

* * *

A dozen knights in shining armor surrounded the chained dragon. Their swords and spears dripping in blood. An evil princess was shouting out "Kill him!" and pointing at the poor beast.

"Let me go," cried the dragon. "I never hurt any of you." The knights all laughed and moved in closer, acting menacing.

"Don't listen to him. He's a bad dragon because I said so," said the princess. "Kill him." She also laughed and waited for the knights to do her bidding.

The knights raised their weapons and prepared to attack. With a sudden lunge, they all swung their swords and threw their spears. The blood of the dragon ran down his red and gold scales. Crying in anguish, he slumped to the ground.

"Harry!" screamed Greta, springing out of bed. "Harry! Grampa!" She flung open her door and ran down the hallway. Hearing the commotion, Aurer Ian Franklin ran from his post to check on the little girl.

"Grampa, Grampa!" called Greta. She was in tears and didn't see the flash from behind her.

Harry saw Greta in front of him, apparently running for her life. Spinning around, he confronted a wizard drawing his wand. Raising his hand, he cast a bludgeoning spell down the hall that sent the man, and everything else that wasn't nailed down, flying backwards. He then spun back around just in time to see Greta run into the arms of Rufus, who was trying to hold his wand in one hand and keep his robe closed with the other. There was a brief moment when he also met the eyes of a shocked Minerva McGonagall who obviously had just wrapped a sheet around herself. A half second later and she had retreated into the room and slammed the door, trapping Rufus outside.

"Harry!" exclaimed the Minister of Magic. "What?" He discovered the debris behind the Chosen One. "What on earth?" For the first time in a long time, he was totally flummoxed.

"Harry," cried Greta, abandoning Grampa for the person she had been having a nightmare about. "You're okay!" She gave him a big hug which he returned.

By this time, of course, some of the others in the house had come to investigate. Shacklebolt arrived first. He came up behind the Minister and, taking in the sights, also seemed confused. "Are you alright, Minister?" he asked, starting with the basics. Dawlish was coming up the hallway from the end that Harry had disturbed. He had stopped to check on Franklin, who was rousing himself.

"I... I don't know," answered Rufus. "Harry. What are you doing? Why did you do this?" He waved his hands around shakily.

Before Harry could answer, there were several apparition pops and five red cloaked elves, Ron on his carpet and Hermione had joined them. The Ministry wizards instinctively raised their wands and were rewarded by finding themselves flat on their backs and their wands taken.

"Slider!" called Harry, alarmed. He set Greta down and went to help the Minister regain his feet. "I'm sorry, Rufus. I felt that something was wrong with Greta so I came immediately."

"I was having a bad dream," said Greta. "Some bad knights were trying to kill Dragon Harry. It was awful." She cried some more, this time seeking comfort with Hermione.

"A nightmare?" asked Harry, weakly. He looked around at the mess he had made and dropped his head.

Rufus laughed. "Well, Greta. I don't think you need to worry about Harry, anymore. As you can see, he can take care of himself." All of them looked around at the carnage, already being cleaned by the Minister's house elf, Loxley, who was being helped by the Hogwarts Free Elves. In no time, the damage was repaired.

"How did you get in here?" asked Franklin. This area of the house was his concern and Harry had passed by at least three checkpoints, as far as he could tell.

"That's a secret, Ian," said Rufus. "In fact," he continued, making eye contact with all of his men, " I'd just as soon have none of this reported beyond those present. Thank you." They were all clearly dismissed.

"Yes, sir," said Franklin. He looked confused but returned to his post. Shacklebolt and Dawlish weren't so easy to get rid of.

"A little early for bed, Rufus," commented Dawlish, "even for you."

"It depends on what you're doing, eh, Harry?" countered Rufus, winking mischievously.

"Yes," said Harry, trying to make his exit. "Slider. You and your men, er, elves responded exceptionally well. Everything is under control so please return to your previous duties."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Slider and with a quick look between them, the elves disappeared with a synchronized pop.

"Well, Minister," said Harry, "I suppose..."

"Just a moment, Harry," said Rufus. "Jack. Kingsley. Could you excuse us, please?"

"Of course," said Dawlish. He and Shacklebolt returned to their rooms.

"Just give us a moment," said Rufus, quietly, "to let Minerva and me get decent and I'd like a quick word."

"Minerva?' asked Ron before he could catch himself.

"They're having a sleep over," explained Greta.

"I suppose we are," said Rufus, unable to suppress a grin. "Could you three be so kind as to see Greta back to her room? I won't be a moment." At their nods, he slipped behind the door.

"Can I ride back on your blanket?" asked Greta, all memory of the nightmare forgotten.

"Of course," said Ron. Harry quickly picked up the excited girl and placed her in front of Ron.

* * *

After just a few minutes, it became clear that there was no way that Greta was falling asleep with Harry in sight. With Harry waiting in the hall, Ron moved up to the most interesting person in the room. After succeeding in bringing the girl to near hysterics by hovering an inch above the floor and floating from one side of the bed to the other, popping up from time to time to say "peek-a-boo", he, too, was unceremoniously evicted. Two short minutes later, Hermione joined them.

"That was fast," said Harry. "Did she calm down?"

"She's asleep," said Hermione.

"Asleep?" repeated Ron. "She was bouncing off the walls when I left."

"She must have been more tired than she thought," said Hermione. "She asked about the sorts of things I did at Hogwarts and I was telling her about S.P.E.W. and the next thing I know... What?" Harry and Ron were both laughing at her unintentional admission of just how boring other people found her pet project.

"Nothing," said Harry, grinning still. He then deflated a bit and, with a sigh, he said, "Let's go get yelled at." They started down the hall.

"You can get yelled at," said Hermione. "I'm taking the Nuremberg defense."

"That didn't work against the Vikings," said Ron.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"The 1984 World Cup," said Ron, matter-of-factly. At Hermione's continued confusion, he elaborated, "The Blitzers tried that defense when they played the Vikings at the World Cup semi-finals in Nuremberg. It didn't help all that much."

"I was talking about..." began Hermione. "Never mind; we're here." She knocked on the door. From behind the door, they heard muffled voices. It was hard to hear the entire conversation but some key phrases such as "It's too late" and "So embarrassed" came through. After a few seconds, the door opened.

"Come on in," said Rufus, pulling the door back. The three entered the large bedroom. The first thing that caught their eye was the inconsistency between how Minerva was dressed compared to Rufus. Minerva sat at a nearby table next to the opposite wall from the bed, wearing her normal robes, complete with traveling cloak. Rufus had merely taken the time to put on some red, silk pajamas which were visible under the bath robe last seen during their previous encounter. The bed, itself, showed no sign of disturbance. Magic came in very handy, from time to time.

"I'm sorry, Rufus," began Harry the moment the door was shut. "You, too, Minerva. I didn't mean to interrupt your, uh..." He didn't really want to get specific."

"We're not too thrilled with it, either," said Rufus. "Although, the night is young..." He went over and sat next to his girlfriend. Minerva rolled her eyes in a manner eerily reminiscent of the ones Hermione had cast over the years. After the other three had take the offered chairs opposite the elder lovers, he continued. "There is just the one thing about which I'm very interested. You said you could tell that Greta was frightened. How, exactly, did you manage that?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry. "I don't know if we should be discussing this, to tell you the truth." He looked around at the others for guidance.

"Just don't go into too much detail," suggested Hermione.

"Right," agreed Harry, collecting his thoughts. "Well, we were up north, interrogating our new prisoners..."

"You have new prisoners?" asked Rufus. "When did you capture them?"

"This morning," said Hermione. "Actually, it was Slider and his team that captured them. They tried to sneak into Hogsmeade."

"Slider?" asked Minerva.

"What can Slider be doing for Mistress?" asked Slider. This had the unusual result, for Minerva, at least, of having McGonagall jerk wildly away from his sudden presence.

"Oh, Slider," she said, catching her breath. "I... I was just repeating your name. Harry, I mean Hermione had just reported that you had captured some Death Eaters this morning and it surprised me."

"Mistress is being knowing that Slider is helping Harry Potter," stated Slider.

"Yes, I remember," said McGonagall, a bit miffed at being spoken to like she was addled. Then again, she thought, she was currently in a state that met the conditions of addlement. "Who did you capture?"

"Slider and the Hogwarts Free Elves is being capturing Amycus Carrow, Alecto Carrow and Peter Preston, Mistress," said Slider.

"You caught the Carrows?" asked Rufus, amazed. They weren't particularly brilliant Death Eaters but they had managed to stay free due mainly to being among the most ruthless.

"Yes, Minister," replied Slider.

"I'd like them back, when you're through with them, Harry," said Rufus, grimly. "At least a dozen of my old comrades are dead because of those two."

"That probably won't be a problem, Minister," replied Harry. "They don't seem to be in a cooperative mood. The other one, though, might be persuaded to be helpful."

"Did he offer some useful information?" asked Minerva.

"We think he was about to," answered Ron. "He needed to use the WC, first. Slider and some other elves had taken him and the Carrows back to the main fortress. We don't have facilities at the North Pole, you see."

"'Up north' is the North Pole, then," stated Rufus.

"Yes, Rufus," said Harry with a sideways glance at Ron. "We think that when Voldemort removed the Dark Marks, he probably added a new way to track his men. Preston hinted at something like that."

"So, you were at the North Pole. Greta had a nightmare. You could tell, somehow. What happened?" The Minister of Magic waited for an explanation.

"I could hear her," said Harry, trying to remember the sensation. "I think she was calling for me and I heard her, somehow. I can't really explain it better than that. I had to portkey back to Hogwarts and then I apparated to her. Again, I can't explain how I knew exactly where to go. When I got here, she was in front of me, running and crying. I turned around to see who or what she was running from and that first bloke pulled a wand and, well, I blasted him down the hallway. Then you came out and I didn't know what to think, anymore."

"Harry had told us to follow as soon as we could," added Hermione. "We didn't know what was up but followed his orders, just in case."

"I see," said Rufus. He thought a moment before standing up and approaching Harry, who automatically stood as well. Rufus embraced Harry and said, "My boy. You have no idea the peace of mind you've given me. Greta's room is about thirty feet down the hallway and you made it here from the North Pole before she could reach my door. If we were ever attacked here, I feel that she, at least, would be safe."

Harry choked up a bit. With a constricted throat, he affirmed, "If it is within my power, neither of you will come to harm." He initiated the embrace, this time. Stepping back, he then said, "I think we've interrupted your sleep over enough, for tonight. We'll be heading back."

"A sleep over?" asked McGonagall, in fake confusion. "Why, where ever did you get that idea? We were just visiting."

"There's nothing wrong with love, Minerva," said Hermione, stepping forward. "However," she continued, picking up something from the floor beside the bed, "don't forget this when you're done 'visiting'." She then handed the Headmistress her camisole before the three of them made their exit.

* * *

October 26th, 1997

The Great Hall, Just after Breakfast.

Minerva McGonagall was tired. She and the Minister had 'visited' last night and she was surprised, once again, at how good a conversationalist he was, given his age. Their first discussion was interrupted, but by ten o'clock, they were chattering away like crazy. After an hour or so, Rufus thought of something else that he wanted to bring up and they had another exchange of opinions. When he woke her up just after midnight with some new ideas that had crossed his mind, her first thought was to tell him to put it in a letter. He didn't have a stamp, though, and she listened politely until his babbling finally stopped. Just before she left this morning, they had one last debate. At least the forum for tonight's talks would be her own bed.

The two biddies next to her did not help her current mood. Before leaving last night, she had had to tell Pomona, being the Assistant Headmistress, where she would be and for how long. Poppy, of course, had her own ways of finding out about this sort of thing. The nurse was sitting to Minerva's left, her head resting on her hand as her arm formed a brace with the table. She was waiting for Minerva to say something, but, as that didn't appear to be forthcoming, she decided to initiate a response.

"I have two options for you, Minerva," said Poppy. "Either you can start taking Vitamin E or your boyfriend," at this word, Pomona giggled, girlishly, "can start taking saltpeter." Both of the women flanking the Headmistress laughed as Minerva sank even lower into her chair.

"Your jealousy is clouding your judgement," said McGonagall, attempting to take the offensive. "All I need is some time to adjust. I'm sure my endurance will improve with practice."

"Possibly," agreed Poppy. "From the way you were walking this morning, though, I'm concerned that you'll be permanently bowlegged by the time your body adapts to this particular exercise. Now, I just happen to have made up a topical potion that might bring you some relief."

"Why did you do that?" asked Pomona, curiously. "Were you expecting the Minister to be such a... well..." She didn't want to come out and say it. Although the other instructors had left, there were still a few students within range for a stray word or two.

"Sex maniac?" asked Poppy. She giggled a bit before getting back to the original question. "Well, if you must know, I've finally talked Rolly into a date this coming Friday. Given the example of Minerva, here, I decided to be prepared, just in case."

"This_ is_ your first date, isn't it?" clarified Minerva.

"I'm almost as old as you," said Poppy. "I'll strike while the iron's hot." She paused before asking, "So, do you want the potion or not?"

"Give me a quart," said Minerva, quietly.

"Fine," said Poppy. "A little bit now will help with your current problems. Then, just a little before each time with the Minister. I'll try to have more ready for next week." Both of the younger women laughed as McGonagall slipped further into her chair.

* * *

A short time later in the Headmistress' Office...

'Ah. That _is_ better.' Minerva set the flask down on her desk and replaced the stopper. With the relief came the reminder that she had an unpleasant task to perform. Not being one to procrastinate, she summoned her Head Elf.

"Slider," said McGonagall, using her official voice.

"Yes, Headmistress," responded Slider.

"Miss Lovegood was not at breakfast this morning," continued McGonagall. "Where is she now?"

"Mistress Luna is being in the offices of the Fortress of Solitude, Mistress," replied Slider.

"Really?" asked McGonagall. "Is she alone?"

"No, Mistress," replied Slider. "Master Dougal is being with her."

"Is he?" asked McGonagall, her voice becoming thirty degrees colder in an instant. "Very well. Thank you, Slider."

Slider, being dismissed, popped off with a bow. McGonagall increased her frown for a moment before rising from her chair and walking over to her private transport icon. Touching her ring while speaking the password, she disappeared.

"...should just do as I say," finished Dougal, sharply, before he noticed the arrival of the Headmistress. He was standing over the seated Ravenclaw with one hand holding her chin and the other running a wet rag over her forehead. A nasty cut was staining her tresses red just at the hairline. She had also clearly been crying.

"Get away from her!" commanded McGonagall, pulling her wand. "You've done enough damage." The tip of her wand glowed with her gathering anger. "Back off, I said."

Dougal instinctively did as he was ordered. Raising his hands above his head, he tried to speak. "Prof, I mean, Headmistress. What's..."

"Stop!" exclaimed Luna, jumping up and placing herself between McGonagall and Dougal. "Don't hurt him, Professor." Her tears ran with new fervor as she tried to protect her love.

"Stand aside, child," said McGonagall, adjusting her position lest the villain try to use Luna as a shield.

"Get away, Luna," said Dougal, adjusting his position to prevent the madwoman from harming Luna in her desire to kill him.

"Why are you doing this," pleaded Luna. "He's done nothing."

"Nothing?" asked McGonagall. "Then how do you explain the cut on your head? Or the bruises from before?" She smiled grimly as she waited for an answer.

"They weren't Dougal's fault," said Luna. "They were mine."

"He beat you and it's your fault?" asked Minerva, sardonically. She had almost had enough.

"What?" asked Dougal and Luna together. Their sudden joint confusion took McGonagall by surprise.

"Dougal," said Minerva, hesitating a bit. "He's abusing you. Poppy told me about your other injuries, and just now, you're hurt, again, and I caught him ordering about. He was demanding that you to do as he said."

There was a pregnant pause. Dougal and Luna both looked at each other. With their ability to understand each other with a glance, Dougal turned away and let Luna explain. "Dougal isn't hurting me, Headmistress. He never would. It's... It's his mother. I thought that..."

"She thought that my mother was capable of understanding that a person can choose to turn his back on evil, despite the rewards," said Dougal. "She thought that Narcissa Malfoy could forgive her only son the sin of leaving the Dark Lord behind and seeking out a new life. A life where he could find someone filled with peace, goodness and love." He gazed at Luna, who smiled back at him, as he finished this sentence. Turning back to McGonagall, he said, less emotionally, "I told my mother the truth. She couldn't accept it and we left each other with bitter words. Luna has been trying to talk to her. That's where she's been receiving her injuries. I've tried to make her understand but she won't give up on people. That's what makes her Luna."

"I told Dougal to be honest with his mother," continued Luna. "That's what make this my fault. I didn't think she could ever disown her son." She turned to Dougal. "There's still hope. I can feel it. She just needs more time."

"Give her time, then," said Dougal. "Give her a month to calm down." He looked at McGonagall but continued, "Then we'll go see her." He returned his attention to Luna. "I promise. We'll go see her, together."

"I'm so sorry for intruding," said McGonagall. "I must agree with Dougal, though. Give Narcissa time to think this through. And for Pete's sake, Luna; don't see her alone, again. Now, off to the hospital wing; both of you."

She waited, quietly, as the young lovers gathered their things and left to see Poppy. After they had gone, she turned to the portrait of her former lover and said, "You're right, again, Albus. Love does make the world a better place."

"Yes, it does, Minerva," said Dumbledore. He looked down for a moment before continuing, "I'm afraid I forgot that fact for a while. I'm sorry."

"It's me that should be apologizing, Albus," said Minerva. "I'm afraid I didn't play the grieving lover for very long before getting involved with Rufus. It's only natural that you'd be a bit jealous."

"I'm more jealous of your need for that potion in particular than of your moving on in general," said Albus.

"It surprised me, as well," said Minerva, blushing. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"I didn't think you were," agreed Albus. "Just keep a supply on hand."

"I've already arranged that," said Minerva. With a coy nod, she walked over to the master icons and returned to her office.

* * *

October 27th, 1997

Sixth Hour, Just Outside the Transfiguration Classroom

"Thank God! Honey's back." The spontaneous burst of applause from the seventh years in the queue was quickly muted as they all rushed to give her hugs. Being a hugger, herself, she met them all with reciprocal good spirits.

"I'm so glad you're back," gushed Hannah Abbott. "It was just so... so..."

"Yes, it certainly was," agreed Susan Bones. "I was all ready to skive off if you weren't here, today."

"Very funny," said Hermione. She assumed that they were all kidding her.

"It is funny," agreed Honey with a confused tone. "All of my classes today acted the same way." She gave Hermione one more confused look before giving Ron a quick kiss and turning back towards her desk.

Hermione didn't say anything but Harry nearly did. It was only that bristling of the hair on the back of your neck when you're in mortal peril that saved him. Ron also remained silent but it was more out of being a bit of a grump after observing more than one of the other boys in the room giving his wife what he considered to be a somewhat more enthusiastic hug than was necessary. Harry fell into that group, but as he was family, he was excused.

"Before we begin," said Honey, "I'd like to thank Hermione for covering for me, last week. I've reviewed your homework," at this point she indicated the pile on the floor next to her desk, "and it seems that her coverage of the subject has been quite... thorough."

"No," disagreed Anthony Goldstein, "a body cavity search is 'thorough'. What she put us through was quite beyond that." There were numerous murmurs of agreement on his assessment.

Hermione crossed her arms and tried to remain patient. Well, perhaps 'in control' would have been a better choice of words. Her erstwhile friends couldn't let it drop, though.

"You've got that right," harrumphed Mandy Brocklehurst. "Why I've never had to use a plumb bob before to get my wand movement perfect."

"You'll have to admit," blurted out Hermione, "that it did improve your results." She thought that her resourcefulness should have been more appreciated.

"I'm sure it did," agreed Honey, trying to regain control of her class. It didn't work.

"I'm sure that kind of precision will come in very handy," added Dougal, "the next time we have to give an ant a vasectomy." There was a burst of laughter at this comment. Hermione wasn't pleased that both Ron and Harry had joined in but it was Honey's cackle that really set her off.

"Look," she spat, standing for effect, "if you all want to have the wand handling abilities of spastic marionettes, that's your concern, but as long as I was teaching the class, you would be doing it correctly." She returned to her crossed arm position but had one hand dangling perilously close to the hilt of her wand. This did not go unnoticed. The room quieted down quite precipitously.

"Now that we all have that out of our system," said Honey, trying once again to return to her prepared lecture, "let's begin."

As luck would have it, their lesson that day had the dual nature of both reminding Harry, Hermione and Ron of a very unfortunate event in Hermione's past as well as requiring extreme precision. This did, of course, leave her unsure of how to feel.

"Not that way," reprimanded Honey as Seamus adjusted Dean's teeth to the point of nearly impaling the top of their desk. "You need to move the tip counter-clockwise with a slow backing motion in order to control the length. Watch how Hermione is doing Ron." Ron's front teeth oscillated from their normal seven-sixteenths inch length down to two inches and back again with the utmost skill demonstrated by Hermione. She didn't try to hide her smirk since the two Gryffindors were among the most vocal of her critics.

* * *

October 29th, 1997

Mid-Evening

By the middle of the Wednesday night general meeting of the Outer Oval, as the minor players had started to call themselves based on the shape of the large table necessary to accommodate them all, it had become clear that the new prisoners had some puzzling characteristics to figure out.

"I'm a little confused," said Hermione. "How can you have a strong signal but still be unable to find its source?"

"If we knew that," said George.

"We'd know how to deal with it," finished Fred.

"We think it might be some sort of a two piece system," said Remus, getting a bit more technical. "It's pretty obvious that a portkey target is in play but we can't locate it. The actual target source could be shielded, somehow, but still project its beam off some other point for transmission that would be undetectable by itself."

"Well, keep working on it," said Harry. "I know it's inconvenient, but at least we have accommodations for everyone up there." He looked over his notes and proceeded to the next, somewhat related subject. "For those of you who don't know, we have been trying to maintain the illusion that our headquarters is near the North Pole. I didn't think this would work for long but Remus and the twins have other information from our newest prisoner that indicates that Voldemort believes it. Having the new prisoners located there will help reinforce this belief. Would you fill everyone in on this, George?" He indicated that George should take this part.

"This new bloke, Preston, worked for Snape," began George. "We're all just as surprised as Harry but it seems to be true; they actually believe that Harry has a fortress up near the North Pole."

"Of course," added Fred, "if we add more cells and other facilities, it'll be true, soon enough."

"Any fool knows that Harry's at Hogwarts almost every day," said Martha, dismissing the aside from Fred. "How can they still think that the main fortress is hundreds of miles away?"

"They have no choice," chimed in Remus. "According to Preston, they've used the old tracking method on several of the Death Eaters that we've caught and it always comes up pointing north at a great distance. Also, the one time they sent a group to attack you, none of the blighters came back. What are they supposed to think?"

"So what have they got planned?" asked Ron. "It's dark and cold up there, now. Are they planning on waiting until spring?"

"They've somehow stumbled across the one way to reach the North Pole in winter," said Tonks. "A nuclear submarine could make the trip. From what we've been able to find out from Arthur's muggle books, there isn't much of a chance for success."

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"Most wizards," began Tonks, "at least most purebloods, have enough trouble learning to drive a car. From what we can figure out, moving one of these nuclear submarines requires a dozen or so people. The major stumbling block is that there aren't any windows in the bloody things. How anyone can drive one is beyond me."

"It is rather complicated," said Hermione. "How are they planning on learning how to do it?"

"By watching others do it," said Remus. "They've been watching... what do they call it?" He checked his notes, "videos. There are plenty of muggle videos on submarines. One in particular has caught their attention because it not only has a few varieties of nuclear submarines in it; it shows how to keep from being found or caught. It's," he checked his notes, again, "the hunt for red October."

"That'll be a big help," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "They'll all be talking Scots before long."

"So they'll be keeping out of our hair for awhile," said Harry. "That's good. Moving on; Hermione, Ron, Honey, some elves and I will be going on another trip. It could take a day or so, so we'll be leaving just after classes end tomorrow. Friday is Halloween, of course, so we'll have a three day weekend. You can contact us easily until Friday morning at the Burrow. It's Molly's birthday tomorrow and we'll spend the night after the party. After that, only communicate through the elves. Once we leave the Burrow, only Slider and Sleepy will be remaining with us. The others are only coming as a precaution while we're at the Burrow."

"You'll be back by Monday, then," asked McGonagall.

"We assume so," said Hermione. "Anything can happen, though. If things are going well, we might just press on. If that happens, we'll contact you, hopefully by noon on Sunday."

"Are you going to see the, ah, person that we discussed?" asked Martha. She didn't know how many of those present knew or needed to know that they were interested in dealing with a fire golem.

"Yes," said Hermione. "At least for part of the trip. We still have a few other places on our list if that particular one dries up."

"It's always good to have a backup plan," said Hammer. "Speaking of backups; my lads are anxious to have a match against your regulars. Wood said you excepted his challenge over a week ago but we've yet to see a date set." There was a competitive gleam in his eye as he leaned back in his chair.

"We'll have to see about that then," said Harry, up to the challenge. "We'll have to decide on the conditions, but I think we could have something ready to go by a week from this Saturday. I'd like it to be something realistic like taking a hostage or rescuing one; something like that."

"Done," said Coldiron. "You said Slider's going with you?"

"Yes, Master Hammer," said Slider.

"Who's in charge while you're away?" asked Hammer.

"Jumper is being in charge while Slider is being with Harry Potter," answered Slider.

"I'll discuss the terms with Jumper, then," said Hammer, jotting this information down.

"Fine," said Harry. "Now, if no one else has anything?" He looked around. There were no takers. "I guess we'll just have to hope that Remus and the twins can come up with something on these new locators that the Death Eaters are using. That would really open things up for us as well as getting Martha back to work."

"I'll be happy to see that," said Martha.

"Won't we all," agreed Harry. "Those of you working on the Greyback project still have plenty of material to go through so you won't be bored. I think that's it."

Everyone gathered up their supplies and made their way back to various parts of Hogwarts via the portkeys. In a short time, all that were left were Harry and Hermione. Harry was ready to go, as well, but Hermione was still looking over one of the few books she could find that had proven helpful.

"I find it hard to believe," she said, "that no one but Voldemort has ever successfully made a deal with a fire golem." She tossed her book down in frustration but quickly picked up another.

"I can believe it," said Harry. At Hermione's rolling eyes, he added, "If you, after a week of searching, can't find anything, it doesn't exist."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "Somewhere, Voldemort found out how to make his deal. I've checked all of our available resources and can't duplicate that feat. I agree that we can't just hope that this vital information just magically falls into our hands but that doesn't make me feel better about just walking up and hoping the fire golem feels reasonable enough to chat."

"At least Slider and I can always portkey away," said Harry. "Ragnok gave me a money back guarantee that his portkey charm and target will get through that apparition ward."

"That does make me feel better," said Hermione. She reached up and gave him a kiss. "You go and get ready for bed. I just want to look through these a while longer." She waited for him to respond.

"Okay," said Harry, "if you like. I think you're overreacting, though. I'm just going to travel through a cave of lava and try to make a deal with an elemental creature about which we know practically nothing. What could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

Author's note:

I have a challenge for my loyal readers. If you'll recall the part where Hermione explained how Greyback knew Voldemort's shoe size, you might have noticed that part of the story was missing. Replace the 'five minutes later' part with the story. The best entry that ties everything up nicely will get a prize. It won't be much but I'll come up with something. Good luck.

Dad


	77. Chapter 77

Chapter 77 -Back to Mt. Etna

October 31, 1997 - At the Burrow

"Harry," said a soft, sweet voice. There was no response.

"Harry," repeated the voice, slightly louder but no less sweet, "it's time to get up." Harry emitted a grunt, but nothing else.

"Harry Potter!" said the suddenly stern voice. Harry flipped over to face Molly Weasley as buttons ricocheted off the wall and ceiling. He was holding onto two patches of cloth. They looked eerily similar to the material that Hermione's nightgown was made out of.

"I'll have those, thank you," said Hermione, reaching for the rags while trying to hold together what was left of her sleep-wear.

"Get a move on, you two," said the original, sweet and soft-spoken Molly. "Your breakfasts are getting cold." She left the room to allow them to dress. Harry thought he noticed the wisp of a cold smile on her face. Despite having her family about her and the many gifts and kind words from her birthday, yesterday, she still had the occasional bout of bitterness that Hermione had caught Harry instead of her Ginny.

* * *

"Good morning, Hermione," said Honey as Harry and Hermione entered the kitchen, setting off the barrage of greetings deemed necessary when meeting for the first time each day. The table hadn't filled up properly so Harry ended up between Ginny and Arthur while Hermione had to slip around to sit next to Neville. Molly's seat, although perpetually vacant, and possibly dusty, was nevertheless reserved.

"Help yourselves," said Molly, slipping a platter of fresh cauldron cakes onto the overcrowded breakfast table.

"The biscuits are on the way," said Honey, pulling open the oven door. She had borrowed one of Molly's aprons and, with the hair adding to the overall effect, had embraced Weasley wifedom quite completely.

Harry sat quietly eating his breakfast, distracted by the discussion occurring in front of the stove as the two Mrs. Weasleys tried to diplomatically persuade each other that they were much better informed regarding the nuanced adjustments that needed to be made to the breakfast staples to properly please Ron's appetite. Harry smiled to himself, realizing that a marginally competent depiction on a napkin of a slice of bacon drawn in crayon would disappear without comment if placed within reach of his ravenous friend. He ate on for a while as Hermione, who had finished her meager, in his opinion, meal and had also finished the Daily Prophet, indicated that he should follow her when he finished and discretely retreated to the parlor.

About five minutes later, Harry joined her. As he passed the doorway, all sound from the kitchen was silenced so he knew that they could talk freely. He also noticed that she had pulled out her notes on fire golems.

"Going over everything again?" asked Harry. "I would have though you'd be able to remember everything we know." They didn't know much. Some speculation on their origins; a few guesses on their probable life span; a rare scientific observation concerning accurate temperature readings near sightings and the consistently enigmatic oddity that no one had ever escaped their presence without someone else having to have had to stay behind to hold the beast at bay while their luckier friend withdrew. Hermione didn't like that part and said so.

"We need to know more," said Hermione. "I especially want to know more about escaping their clutches."

"I'm telling you," said Harry, in response, "we have that figured out. Other than Voldemort, no one but us has ever sought out a fire golem on purpose so they weren't prepared. Those portkeys should keep Slider and me as safe as we can manage. It there's trouble, were out of there."

"I know," said Hermione. "That must be how Voldemort planned on leaving, as well. He couldn't have very well used the horcrux and then left Peter to guard his retreat. He didn't even have a body, at that point." She sighed. "It makes sense," she allowed. "I just wish that a lot of other scenarios didn't also make sense."

"You worry too much," said Harry, soothingly. "I'm sure everything will go smoothly." He kissed her and she felt better.

* * *

An hour later, the four travelers were making a final check. Hermione had several potions prepared for the expected problems such as shrinking potions to make it easier to dodge the dripping magma and a couple universal antidotes to restore Harry afterwards. She also had several varied potions for the unexpected. Well, maybe the unplanned. Hermione was fairly sure that she would probably be using the blood replenisher. The burn ointment would also be needed, if only for the occasional errant splatter during the trip through the magma chamber. Harry's hat and robes would be charmed with a variety of cooling and reflecting charms to give him, they hoped, the ability to remain with the fire golem long enough to strike a deal. "Do you think we'll be spending some time at the hotel?" asked Honey. She was examining her lighter clothing and had a bottle of muggle sunscreen in her hand.

"Nothing's set in stone," said Harry. "If we can't make it to the golem or if negotiations go extremely well, we won't be there for long. In that situation, we'd probably head to one of our alternate destinations. If we make some progress but run into small difficulties or have to get what it wants from somewhere else, we might be there for a day or so. It's hard to tell." He, too, was trying to determine the proper mix between light clothing for Sicily and the thick wool required for northern Wales.

After they had made their decisions, it was up to Sleepy and Slider to provide transport. As before, even an elf had to make a few stops on the way. Sleepy took the women and Slider guided the men. With a last kiss goodbye from Molly for each of them, even Hermione, they were off.

The first jump was to London. Then Paris; Milan; Rome and finally Sicily. Their final jump placed them inside the entrance cave at the far end of the tunnel with the stalagmites. They set down their luggage and Hermione proceeded to withdraw the vials they needed at the moment. She placed some of the more medicinal leaning items into one of the inner pockets of her robes and handed two of the shrinking potions and one of the antidote potions to Harry. Slider would be accompanying Harry but was deemed to be small enough already.

While Hermione did this, Harry placed the portkey target off to the side and handed Slider one of the four portkeys that he had purchased from Ragnok. He kept a second, returning the other two to his own case. He tried to not make much of a show of it because if these portkeys didn't work, for some reason, then both he and Slider would be in very serious trouble. Still, Ragnok had assured him that the anti-apparition ward that Voldemort was using would not interfere with their operation. Everything should be fine.

The company made their way up the tunnel until they reached the pair of stalagmites. Silently, Harry cut his palm, as before, and let it drip on the floor. When the opening appeared, Hermione sealed Harry's cut before lowering themselves into the darkness below. Honey and Ron soon followed on Ron's carpet. As they neared the actual opening, it was, at last, Honey's turn.

Bringing a large, thick sheet of glass from Scotland would have been difficult, even with magic. The same was true of the steel roof that they intended to suspend over the travelers. While discussing this back at Hogwarts, Honey had made the suggestion, quite rightly, that they could just transfigure both items out of the local rock. The component materials indigenous to that region were close enough to silica for the glass to retain much of its original molecular structure. This was always helpful in successful transfigurations where specialized requirements, such as transparency, were required. The steel just needed to be strong and resilient so that wouldn't present any difficulties either.

"I suppose we'd better make the glass first," said Honey. She would be working with Hermione on this project. Raising her wand, she paused for just a moment to ensure that she was using the spell exactly as prescribed. From the feedback she had been getting from her classes, any deviation would be noticed and, quite probably, corrected. She'd just as soon avoid that embarrassment.

"About an inch thick, I think," continued Honey. She had picked out a spot on the wall that was relatively flat to begin with. She cast her spell and performed the wand movements that changed the face of the wall to a sort of extremely viscous fluid about eight feet high by approximately ten feet wide. Once the desired volume had been given its preliminary alteration, Hermione stepped in and pulled the slab loose and began to cause it to hover towards the center of the tunnel.

With the better view this afforded her, Honey refined the molecular structure to create the necessary stability and transparency. Hermione then set the sheet down on one edge. Now it was time for Honey to swallow her pride and let the perfectionist finish up. "I'll hold it still, Hermione," said Honey. "You can flatten the sides better than me."

Hermione had never been good at false humility so she just went ahead and adjusted the moderately crude chunk of glass block into a properly refined sheet of plate glass. The two of them then maneuvered the finished product next to the opening.

The steel roof was another matter. It would need some special treatment since it would have moving parts; some of which would be inside others. The agreed upon shape was of a spired ball that had the bottom third removed with a trapeze hanging from a chain. Slider and a very much shrunk Harry would sit on the trapeze while traveling inside the spire. Any hits on the outside might twist and turn the ball but they should just swing from side to side. Much to Hermione's chagrin, this left it up to Harry. On average, it is much easier for a man to visualize complex three-dimensional shapes than a woman. Harry also had the magical endurance to just keep at the spell until the desired outcome was reached.

"Don't forget the louvers," reminded Hermione.

"I'll remember," said Harry. "One big one in the center." He held up his hands framing about a six inch high by twelve inch wide hole."

"Not that big," said Hermione. "You'll need a few of them facing all directions. Maybe one inch high by about six wide."

"If they're going to be that small," said Harry, "I want a lot of them."

"Don't overdo it," countered Hermione. "They'll weaken the structure. You only need a few."

"I have to be able to see," said Harry, grumpily. "I know what I'm doing."

"It doesn't sound like it," said Hermione. She crossed her arms in irritation.

"Calm down," said Honey. "It's not worth fighting over."

"Oh, it's nothing serious," said Harry, smiling. "We're just having a louvers quarrel.

Ron laughed. Hermione groaned, realizing Harry had made up the disagreement just to use that pun. Honey didn't get it. All was right with the world.

"Get with it, Potter," said Hermione, wishing her husband would grow up, just a little, someday.

"Alright," said Harry. "There's a bit of an outcropping here that might do the trick. He turned his full attention on the spur of igneous rock of reasonable girth that sat nearby. With careful deliberation, he first transfigured the stone into a swirl of iron. Inflating it like a glass blower, he spun out the desired shape withing a minute. With a deft maneuver with his wand while the creation was spinning at a high speed, he removed the bottom. He then finished the transfiguration to a high carbon steel, cut in the louvers and set the partially completed shield down.

"Very nice, Harry," commented Ron, admiringly.

"Yes," agreed Hermione, condescendingly, "I like the fluting of the spire, especially." Although prone to perfectionism, she wasn't pleased when people went out of their way to show off.

"Well, I liked it," said Harry. "Now just let me concentrate on the rest." He then began to adjust the scrap steel from the bottom of the bell. A series of small circles with the tip of his wand began the process of making a chain. When he had twenty links, he drew out a flattened bar and two short rods with which to make the trapeze. After a bit of finagling, he had all of the pieces put together. Hermione raised the main section for him after which he attached the chain and trapeze to the inside of the bell shaped shield.

"I'm ready to agree with Ron," said Hermione. "That's very nice, indeed." She stepped up and gave him a congratulatory kiss.

"Thanks," said Harry. "Now, I suppose it's up to you and me, Slider."

"Slider is being ready, Harry Potter," said Slider. He went and took his place on one side of the trapeze that Hermione was suspending.

"We'll most likely be using the portkeys to return," reminded Harry. "After we get out of sight, you might as well start back."

"We'll give you a few minutes," said Ron, "and then you're probably right. From what I could see," he indicated down the magma filled tunnel, "we could watch your back for about two hundred yards if you keep to the right. There's a bit of a slope to the roof there, too, so you'll have less dripping."

"Okay," said Harry. "Whatever you think. Here you are, Slider. Harry handed Slider the vial of universal antidote. Slider wouldn't be shrunk so the potion would be safe with him.

"Slider will be being guarding the potion, Harry Potter," said Slider. He put them inside some hidden pockets inside his robes.

"Good luck," said Hermione. She gave him a quick kiss, as was their custom when going into danger.

"Me, too," said Honey, planting a quick one on his cheek.

"Thanks," said Harry. He shook Ron's hand silently and pulled out the shrinking potion. "Cheers." He downed the vial and immediately felt like he was falling. Everything around him sprang up rapidly. His disorientation was short lived, fortunately, and he quickly gathered his wits.

"Here I come, Slider," said Harry in a comically high pitched voice as he sprinted the five feet over to the shield bell. Jumping up and grabbing the bottom of the trapeze, he scurried up and took his place next to Slider. "Alright, Slider," he called in his chipmunk voice, "you steer and I'll shoot."

Slider took over control of the ball from Hermione and edged towards the opening. Waiting for a few seconds to try to detect any patterns, they headed out into harm's way.

"Repello," said Harry, first one direction and then the other. It was no use. A small globule hit the left side and they went bouncing off to the right. They didn't overturn or anything so Harry quickly returned to hitting all of them that he could.

* * *

"Repello!" shouted Hermione. She was standing behind the glass shield, somewhat protected from the heat, as she watched Harry and Slider flutter off into the distance. Ron was also casting the spell at any drips that looked like they could get close to their companions. Even Sleepy took a shot, from time to time. Hermione watched with dismay as the fifth and then the sixth drops found their marks. She could do nothing but prevent any others from hitting. Darn. There was numbers seven and eight. Even reduced to a quarter the normal size, it was still like running through the rain while trying to remain dry.

* * *

Harry and Slider finally arrived at the first fork. Slider was driving and, as he could also sense the location of the being they were seeking, he chose the left portal without discussion. This took them out of sight of the others. This tunnel didn't seem to be so runny so Harry told Slider to kick it up a gear.

* * *

"There they go," said Hermione, suddenly coming to the realization that she could do no more. Harry's cavalier attitude had sustained her until now. A sense of dread fell over her like no other. She began to have doubts.

"Mistress should be being moving," said Sleepy. "Harry Potter will be being back at the beginning before long. We should be being there to be greeting him."

"Just a few minutes, Sleepy," said Hermione. "They might have to come back this way and would need our help." She peered down the chamber although the glass had already begun to droop.

"That's right," agreed Ron. "We should be ready, just in case." He, too, waited for something to happen.

* * *

"Bloody hell!" shouted Harry as an especially large drop impaled itself on their spire, nearly capsizing them. It didn't fall completely off and they were now quite top heavy. The uppermost louvers were closed, now, as Harry desperately tried to see down the tunnel. It looked like another transition was approaching. It was a more normal sized cave and seemed to be more rock than magma. When Slider entered, the difference in temperature was noticeable. "Hold it here, a moment," requested Harry. Slider slowed them down to a stop. Harry took a temperature reading of the floor and found it to be around one hundred and twenty degrees. He cast a freezing charm downward, holding it for about twenty seconds. The floor sizzled for a bit and then just absorbed the spell. "Let's look around for a moment," said Harry. He and Slider dismounted and looked about them. There were no signs of recent flows through here although the walls showed no signs of water flow, either. It was as if a hole were poked through the magma and then allowed to cool.

"How far away is he?" asked Harry.

"Slider is being thinking that the thing Slider is being feeling is being three hundred feet that way, Harry Potter," replied the elf.

"Let's walk a bit," said Harry. "I'll take over for a while and give you a break." He cast a levitation charm on the ball and Slider lowered his arm.

"Thank you, Harry Potter," said Slider. The two of them began to walk down the tunnel. Their way was lit from behind by the glow of the previous chamber. Harry occasionally set the ball down to renew the freezing charm. Slider only allowed this to go on twice before silently casting the spell himself, as necessary.

Eventually, Harry noticed that the way ahead was becoming lighter. He stopped, again. "Slider," he began.

"He's there," interrupted Slider. They looked ahead, and in the gathering light, they could see that another portal awaited with a sharp right turn just past.

"Time to get big," said Harry. "Let me have the potion, Slider." Slider handed over the flask and without a second's hesitation, Harry drank it all. Instinctively, he ducked as he rapidly approached the ceiling of the cave. He was embarrassed, of course. It was a good seven feet over the floor and he was never in any danger. Still, if you were rushing towards solid rock that fast, you might duck, too.

Together, the intrepid duo walked towards their fate. A boy and an elf don't normally fill the average person with dread. This pair, though, could kick some serious butt, if they had to. Naturally, they both hoped to just have a nice chat and get the hell out of there. When they reached the door, Harry again ordered a halt.

"Just give me a moment to see if I can sense the horcrux," he said. He froze both the floor and the wall and sat down, shivering a bit before the rock began to reheat. Harry reached out with his mind. Here was Slider. Just through the door and about seventy feet away was the fire golem. But where was the horcrux? He felt nothing. So much for Plan B. Pity. He liked Plan B so much better than Plan A. In Plan B, they would find the horcrux and steal it. Risky, to be sure, but there was the possibility that they wouldn't even have to see the fire golem. Now he not only had to meet the beast, he had to negotiate with it. The last time he went to negotiate with a different race was when he went to see the Goblins. That had cost him a half million galleons in damages to the bank. He hoped this would go better.

"I can't find it," said Harry, to Slider. "I guess we have to go in." Slider nodded and stepped forward. "Hold it, Slider," said Harry. "I'm the idiot that brought us here. I can take the first shot, I guess." Slider didn't like it but stepped aside.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled his wand and stepped through the opening.

* * *

"I suppose we'd better get back to meet them," said Honey. It had been twenty minutes since they last saw Harry and Slider and it became evident that they weren't coming back that way, in any event.

"Yes, I guess," said Hermione. She looked down the chamber one last time before turning back and following the others. They didn't set any records on the way back to the hole between the two stalagmites. Somehow, they knew that no one was waiting for them, just yet. They reached the point marked by Harry as being the beginning of the anti-apparition ward but it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye down the tunnel, just in case.

With a last look, Hermione noticed that the light from the magma chamber had intensified. "Something's happening," she called and began to run back to see for herself what that 'something' might be.

"Wait, Hermione," called Honey, running after her. "That might be dangerous."

Ron came after, smiling at his wife. Someday, she'd realize that _everything_ they did was going to be dangerous, more or less. Sleepy had stopped, unnoticed by the others. She was looking into the rock, listening to Slider as he used the voice to call to her; to warn her. "Mistress Hermione," she called, running after them. "Be coming back! Be coming back now!" But Hermione didn't hear.


	78. Chapter 78

Chapter 78 - The King Under the Mountain

October 31, 1997

Harry turned to face this mythical demon he had sought out. He wasn't disappointed. A slowly rotating mass of red, yellow and white flames, violently swirling around each other in ever-changing ropes of heat and light that both had, and hadn't, any distinct and permanent form. Around the periphery, innumerable wispy balls of electrical auras danced about madly; shooting out from time to time as others took their place. Beneath the creature, if it could be called that, there was a crucible of intensely hot magma churning in an eternal spiral of raw power. The golem seemed to draw power from this maelstrom.

Harry was dumbstruck as he beheld the totally alien life form before him. He had no idea how to attempt any sort of communication. Before he had further time to consider his dilemma, though, he could sense that they had been noticed. An almost overwhelming desire to run back down the tunnel overcame him. This was not, however, why he had come. It took a moment but he finally managed to pick up a foot and set it before him. The next step was almost as difficult but if he kept them in motion, it began to become easier. Slider walked effortlessly by his side. If only he had the courage of a house-elf.

Harry knew he was being watched but the incendiary occupant of the chamber made no outward signs of either greeting or attacking them so he continued his advance. At fifteen feet, he stopped. He looked at Slider and asked, "So, what do we do, now?" At once, the giant ball of flame began to move towards them. Harry and Slider instinctively backed quickly away as the creature took their place. It began to reshape itself as well as partially solidify or cool into a less fiery form. A more normal combination of limbs, torso and head began to coalesce out of the chaos until a mammoth fifteen foot high being stood before them. It was no less frightening, thought Harry, but at least he knew where to look.

"Englishmen," said the fire golem. It had the expected deep and booming voice but its diction was quite good. "More Englishmen. Well, my young friends; what brings you to come and visit me?"

Harry, who upon hearing the initial 'Englishmen' had expected it to be followed up with something more along the lines of 'Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum' was a bit at a loss for words. He realized that he couldn't waste this opportunity to just chat and said, "We've come to discuss retrieving something that another visitor, also an Englishman, might have left here."

"Would this something be similar to that which you hold in your hand?" asked the golem. It still made no hostile movements.

Harry looked at his hand, holding his wand. "Yes," he said. "It looked something like this." He held the wand up although the golem had already demonstrated it's keen eyesight.

"In that case," said the fire golem, "you will be disappointed. The other Englishman came to fetch his stick quite a while ago. I'm surprised he didn't tell you that he already had it."

"He doesn't know we're here," said Harry. "We wanted to keep him from getting it back."

"It isn't yours?" asked the golem, noticeably becoming more emotional. "Why, then, did you think I would give it to you?"

"We were willing to pay you for it," said Harry. He could sense a sudden turn in the discussion, and not for the better.

"Pay me?" asked the golem. "Yes, you will pay me but not for the property of another. To sell what is not yours is not honorable. Did you think I was without honor?" The raising of the voice left no doubt as to how he felt about this.

"No, of course not," said Harry. "We wouldn't ordinarily try to take something that isn't ours, either, but this wizard, this Englishman, is so evil that we have dedicated ourselves to his destruction. The wand he kept here would have helped us a great deal."

"So you are not only thieves," clarified the golem, "but murderers, as well. Perhaps I should do this other Englishman a favor and destroy you both."

"You shall not harm Harry Potter," said Slider, standing in front of Harry and raising his arms.

Harry didn't want to fight the fire golem. Partially because they didn't have anything to gain and partially because he could tell, quite clearly, that both he and Slider were probably outclassed. If Slider attacked, both he and Harry would probably be quite dead, quite fast.

"Wait, friend," said Harry, stepping in front of Slider but addressing the golem. "We meant no disrespect to you. This other Englishman has murdered many good people in his quest for power. He..."

"Power," repeated the golem. "Yes, he has much. That was the price he paid to have me watch his trinket. It sounds as if you believe the quest for power is not an honorable one."

"It depends on how you do it," said Harry. He was having a hard time trying to convince this beast that Voldemort wasn't the aggrieved party.

"I believe I know enough," said the golem. "I believe that you have come to take that which isn't yours. You, yourself, have stated that you intend to commit murder. I am aware of your friends to the south. Perhaps I should bring them here and judge them, as well." One of the glittering balls of electricity that had been circling flew off down the tunnel. As it did so, a fierce wind blew up and followed. The movement of air caused the whirlpool and surrounding exposed magma to glow brighter and hotter.

"Wait!" shouted Harry. "We aren't evil. We mean you no harm and will leave and never return if only you'll let us go." This had all gone south quicker than he had expected.

"Really?" asked the golem. "I'd like to believe you." It considered. "You said you aren't evil. Very well; I believe you. You may have attempted to be a thief and you intend to be a murderer but you are no liar. I will allow one of you to leave. The other will pay the price."

A chill went up Harry's spine. PAY THE PRICE. That was the term used most commonly when those that had escaped this creature or his kind had described their adventures. He felt a sudden shudder, despite the heat, as some sort of inspection began.

"You have the most power," said the golem, pointing vaguely at Harry, "but you have the most magic." It had turned towards Slider. "A difficult decision. Despite my misgivings on your purposes, I'll still let you two decide."

"Fine," said Harry. "Just give us a moment." He bent low over Slider. "I think it's time to use these," he whispered, pulling the portkey discretely from his robes.

"Slider is being agreeing, Harry Potter," replied Slider, removing his own portkey.

"On the count of three, then," whispered Harry. "One. Two. Three." He touched his portkey with his wand as Slider did the same with his finger. There was a simultaneous pull on his navel and another, countering suction of magic occurred near the portkey, itself. Two ribbons of flame had instantaneously appeared connecting the portkeys to the fire golem. It pulsed with a blinding light for what seemed like five seconds before it dimmed and vanished.

"Why, thank you," said the golem. "I haven't had a nice snack like that in ages." It flicked a few flames at its face in a gesture that was very similar to a person licking his fingers. "So. Have you chosen who will leave and who will remain?"

Harry was in shock. This bloody fire golem was able to overcome some of the most powerful wizard magic as if it were nothing. Their foolproof escape plan had failed spectacularly. He decided, as he had in a cemetery years earlier, that if he was going to die, it would be fighting. He spun around and raised his wand, shouting, "No one but you..." and he froze.

"Yes," said Slider, lowering his finger. "I is being the one who is being staying. Harry Potter is being leaving." He stepped forward, away from Harry, until he was a mere two feet from the golem.

"Very well," said the golem. "I will provide safe passage back to the others when I have taken your magic."

"Slider is being ready," said Slider. He waited calmly.

'I'm not bloody ready!' thought Harry, furiously. 'Release me, Slider, and we'll fight our way out, somehow.' This was the second time that someone braver and more powerful than he had petrified him to keep him safe while they sacrificed their lives.

A dozen tentacles of flame wrapped themselves around Slider, sucking out his magic as juice from an orange. A brief, abortive cry was all that escaped his lips before he collapsed onto the floor, burnt and crushed.

Harry hit the floor a moment later, released upon the death of the spell caster. His grief was compounded by the brutality of the killing. He couldn't even cradle the dead head of his savior. All that was left was a broken and twisted pile of bones, skin and blood. As his anger took over, Harry raised himself to his feet, preparing to attack but also trying to restrain himself lest his friend's effort and sacrifice become in vain.

"Alright," he spat, "you've been paid. Release me." He waited for a second before comprehension overcame him. Something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. The fire golem had returned to its more native form of pure fire. It changed colors from orange to green to violet to blue and back again, swirling drunkenly about as if insane. Another thought occurred to Harry and he realized that the golem was in agony.

The golem had never before taken magic from a house-elf. It wouldn't have known, as would be true with almost anyone, including Hermione, that house-elf magic was fundamentally different from all other known magics. This allowed them to have much more flexibility than wizards or witches in certain areas, such as apparition. It also meant that a parasitic creature like the fire golem that could only acquire magic through others, would have a hard time dealing with it. A muggle physicist might have compared it to matter and antimatter. One tended to cancel out the other and not in a good way.

In a monumental inrush, as if from a fountain, the golem swelled to thirty feet high, brushing the roof of the chamber before collapsing down into fiery nothingness. The curious balls of electricity flew off in their current directions and sputtered out pitifully against the walls. Harry, who until now hadn't completely panicked, suddenly found himself in almost total darkness. The only source of light was the slowing pool of magma before him and the slight glow from the many tunnels leading from the room. Harry tried to force his eyes to adjust to the new darkness but they didn't work that way. He was also just a bit disoriented and wasn't entirely sure as to which way to go. All of the tunnels looked alike and he no longer had a frame of reference.

As he pondered his choices, he was relieved that his eyes were adjusting faster than expected. That lasted three seconds before he realized that the extra light was coming from the ceiling. The cracks were beginning to fill with a red light. The fire golem had used some of its magic to protect the system of rooms and tunnels it had called home. With its death, that protection had ended. Harry needed to leave and he needed to leave now. He had the second shrinking potion but what good would that do? The shield ball had barely made it here and that was with Slider driving and Harry repelling. It was good for, at best, a last resort.

Time was starting to run out. The magma from the crucible began to overflow. Its source must have been from higher chambers. This was also true of the tunnels leading to this place. The glows from all directions increased, indicating that there was no escape. Harry had just about decided that it was time to panic when a large slab from the ceiling collapsed and tons of magma began to pour in. A few small splatters reached Harry and his left arm and both feet were instantly searing in pain. He had only time for a brief scream before the torrent of magma rose up to engulf him.

* * *

Hermione led the way towards the opening to the magma chamber. The light intensified as she closed the distance. 'This has to be Harry,' she thought. 'Why else would there be such a sudden change?' When she was about twenty yards away, the sphere of energy emerged from the opening and sped towards her.

Hermione drew her wand and immediately summoned a grating of iron that barred the way. The sphere stopped before striking it and hovered on the other side, as if contemplating what to do next.

"What is it?" asked Honey as she and Ron caught up. They both examined the new arrival as Sleepy finally caught up to them.

"Mistress Hermione," called Sleepy, out of breath, "there is being much danger. We is being leaving, now." She tugged on Hermione's robes.

"But what about Harry?" asked Hermione. "Isn't..."

"Sliding is being warning us!" shouted Sleepy. "The shiny ball is being coming to be getting us all. We is leaving now." She pulled harder.

The mention of a warning from Slider helped to bring Hermione around to Sleepy's way of thinking. The Voice was a means of communication with Slider and Harry. When they had withdrawn to a safe distance, they could try to make contact. "Let's go," she said to everyone else. She quickly began to run to the other end of the tunnel to return to the stream level. Honey had climbed onto the back of Ron's carpet, as usual, and they returned the way they had come, just moments earlier, with Sleepy bringing up the rear.

When they were about two thirds of the way back, Ron and Honey both unceremoniously fell to the ground. At the same time, Ron's and Honey's wands both went out, leaving them all in near darkness. The only light was coming from the magma chamber. Looking down that way, Hermione noticed that the bright sphere was gone. The commotion from the chamber, though, sounded like a dam had burst. The roaring sound could mean many things but none of them were good. To Hermione, it sounded most like a great river had suddenly been released from its banks.

"We've got to get out of here," said Hermione. She cast first one, then several levitating charms at Ron. None worked. "Something's wrong," she added, needlessly.

Sleepy tried her spells, as well. Again, there was no response. "Sleepy is being popping Master Ron away," said Sleepy. "Sleepy is being coming back."

"Hurry," ordered Honey. The magma had risen enough to begin to spill into their tunnel through the opening.

Sleepy grabbed Ron's hand and tried to pop out. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. "Sleepy isn't being knowing what is the problem," said Sleepy. "We is being past the popping ward." She tried again and again.

"There's no time to figure it out," said Ron. "Look!" He pointed at the steady flow of magma coming their way. He began to pull himself along the tunnel floor with his hands.

"Grab an arm," said Hermione to Honey. "Sleepy. Get the carpet."

With excruciating slowness, and quite a bit of embarrassment for Ron, they slowly dragged him to a point just under the escape hole. Hermione drew her wand, again. Again, it didn't work.

"How are we going to get up there?" asked Honey. She looked back at the rising flow of magma. "How are we going to get Ron up there?" This last question was spoken in a low voice that contained the realization that the answer was 'We won't'.

"Mistress Hermione. Mistress Honey," said Sleepy. "Be holding onto Master Ron very tight." She waited for them to do so as the magma came within thirty feet of them.

Hermione and Honey both bent low and clasped Ron's hands.

"Tighter," ordered Sleepy. "Be holding onto Master Ron as tight as you is being able." There was desperation in her voice, now.

Honey and Hermione both gave Ron a joint hug as he did the same to both of them.

"Don't be letting go," ordered Sleepy. The magma was five feet from her as she placed her left hand over her heart and raised her right. With a sudden lurch, the three humans were flung up through the hole. Ron's left foot grazed the opening but the others were untouched as they landed on the floor above.

Hermione immediately crawled to the opening and was just in time to see a prone Sleepy have her feet engulfed by the magma. She didn't move. She was already dead. A few seconds later and she was gone. The carpet followed her shortly after.

Hermione rolled over onto her back, tears streaming down into her ears. What had happened? Where was Harry? Why wasn't anyone's magic working anymore? Why was it so dark? This last question roused her enough to bring her back to reality. It was dark. Why wasn't important right now. What were they going to do?

"We need to get out of this tunnel while we still can," said Hermione. She looked down the thirty or so feet that she could see from the faint light of the magma from the hole in the floor.

"Where's Sleepy?" asked Honey, concerned.

"Sleepy's dead," said Hermione. "She was able to save us but not herself." Her voice cracked up a bit at this but she had to remain detached from the situation, for now."

Honey began to cry over the death of the elf. Hermione got up and strode over to Honey and Ron. "Sleepy's dead," she said, sternly. "There's nothing we can do for her. Right now, our primary problem is getting back outside. Our wands aren't working for some reason so we need to come up with some other form of light."

"What happened to our wands?" asked Ron. "My carpet hit the ground like someone just sucked the magic out of it. How..."

"We'll have time enough for that later," snapped Hermione. "The first order of business is coming up with some light." She looked about her as if thinking they might find a stray lantern lying against a wall.

The others also tried to see if anything nearby might be of help. There wasn't much. A few small animal bones; a smattering of twigs and leaves brought in by either rats or on the boots of other explorers; some bent wire from some sort of old stand or frame. Nothing that would burn for more than a few seconds. Suddenly, Ron had an idea.

"Honey," he said, "take your robes off."

"Ron," said Honey, "this is neither the time nor the place..."

"I'm not thinking about that," said Ron, dismissively. "We can make a torch."

"A torch out of my robes?" asked Honey. She had already removed them and now held them up, questioningly.

"Just rip off a strip," said Ron. He held out his arms, beckoning for her to hand him her robes.

Honey tried to rip off a strip before handing her robes to Ron. After a few seconds of fruitlessly trying to just rip them himself, he reached into his robes and withdrew a knife. A few quick cuts and the ripping began.

"That's enough," said Hermione. She retrieved the length of wire and wrapped two of the strips around it at the end.

"How will we light it?" asked Honey. "Magic isn't working right now."

"No problem," said Hermione, tying two six foot long strips together. She lowered them through the hole until one end touched the magma. Within a few seconds, there was a good fire going and proceeding unexpectedly fast up the makeshift fuse.

"Better hurry," said Ron as Hermione dropped the coil of cloth on the floor. Honey came over and lit their torch with the flames.

"That won't last very long," said Ron. "We'd better get going."

* * *

It was determined that it would be easier on Ron, if no one else, if he were pulled by his armpits rather than his hands. After making a bundle of rags from Honey's already ruined cloak, they place the strips on Ron's chest and allowed him to hold the wire up just a bit, enabling them to see well enough to travel. After what seemed like several hours, they reached the pool that would lead them outside. Hermione tried her wand once more and found that it was still no better than a stick. It was a good thing that the stream lead out instead of in.

"Okay, Ron," said Hermione, still short of breath from her recent exertion, " all you have to do is hold your breath. This stream is pretty strong, according to what Harry told us. Just let it carry you right on out to the surface."

"I can't swim," protested Ron, totally ignoring what he had just been told. Reason washes off a non-swimmer fairly easily.

"We don't have time for this, Ron," snapped Hermione. "Just take a deep breath and hold it. Hold your hands over your head so you don't get hit by any rocks. I'll be right behind you and I'll help you when we reach the other side. Do you understand?" She sounded like he had better.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Ron, calmed down a bit. "I can do it."

"I can't swim, either," said a timid, soft voice from behind them. The last of her robes were burning beside them but they cast enough light for Hermione to see that Honey was just as frightened of the underwater tunnel as Ron.

"Don't worry, Honey," said Hermione. "Hang onto my robes and we'll all go through together." She knew that was probably the most dangerous way to attempt the passage but Honey didn't look like she could stand being left behind; even for a few minutes.

Not wasting any time, the two women helped Ron into the water. It was already trying to pull him under and he didn't like it at all.

"See, Ron?" asked Hermione, trying to put a happy face on things, "it'll just pull you right through to the other side. No problems at all." She thought a bit more carefully on how they were to do this and decided to rearrange the order. "I think I'll go first with Ron hanging on to my robes. Now don't panic, Ron, and we'll be out in no time. Honey? Just hang on to Ron's feet. When we get to the other side, wait until you're well above the water before you try to breathe. Got it?"

Her two petrified companions made no sound but did manage a frightened nod each just as the fire started to burn out.

"Okay," said Hermione. "It'll be one; two; three. Take a deep breath on two and we go under on three. Here we go. One; two." They all took a deep breath and then Hermione let out with a quick, "three."

Under they went, Hermione leading the way. The current was swifter than expected but not insurmountable. Before they knew it, they shot out into the sunlight. Ron immediately started flailing his arms around, desperately trying to find something solid to hang onto. He found Hermione, of course, before anything else since he had been holding onto her in the first place. Honey did no better but held onto Ron. For some reason, she was still mostly unstable while Ron was doing fairly well.

"Stand up, Honey!" shouted Hermione. She was standing herself in the waist deep water by the base of the volcano. Honey was up to her chin, kicking her feet wildly and drinking more fresh mountain spring water than she had ever wanted. Ron, unable to stand, of course, held on with his right arm around Hermione's waist and steadied his wife with his left. Blinking their eyes in the harsh sunlight, they all managed to drag themselves onto the bank.

They all lay there, shielding their eyes and panting heavily, trying to replenish their blood's oxygen. After a few more seconds, Honey asked, "So what do we do now?" She looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione.

Ron drew his wand and tried a drying charm. It didn't work. He then looked at Hermione.

"Well," she began, thinking, "I suppose we need to see if there's a limit to whatever's stopping magic from working. It might be like an anti-apparition ward and will fail after a while." She looked at her companions. Ron wasn't going anywhere and Honey was both pregnant and frightened. She needed to calm down and rest, for the baby's sake. "I'll go straight down the hill, here, and see if it let's up after a while. You two can wait here for Harry."

Ron and Honey remained silent but shocked. Wasn't Hermione with them when the chamber that Harry had entered overflowed into their tunnel? Didn't she hear that Slider had issued some sort of warning? All magic was turned off. How could Harry deal with a fire golem and streams of lava if he didn't have magic? They looked at each other as Hermione trudged on down the hill. They could see her flick her wand every few paces; trying to find the edge of this anti-magic zone.

* * *

Hermione couldn't have known, since it had never happened before, but when Slider's magic and that of the normal wizards that the golem had consumed over the years was combined, they countered each other in such a way as to create a sphere of magical impermeability. Put simply, the natural free flow of magical energy that was the source of all normal magic couldn't happen. It wasn't huge; perhaps two miles or so, and over time, the sphere would shrink down to nothingness, but it would take days, if not weeks before magical normalcy would be restored. Only by using her own life force, a power that was within her, had Sleepy saved them. It was the last act in a selfless life.

As she walked, Hermione was thinking. They needed help. Perhaps the _The Voice _would still work. "Slider," she called. "Slider, we need you." She waited a moment before chastising herself. Of course Slider couldn't come. Apparition wasn't working, either. "Jumper," was her next guess. Jumper had stayed behind, being the second in command to Slider. If he could hear her, he could still come, she hoped.

Hermione continued her walk, alternately trying her wand and calling for Jumper. After only five or so minutes, she thought she could hear someone shouting. She stopped and waited for them to call again. Before long, she heard a distant cry of, "Master!", and it was coming from behind her.

"Winky!" shouted Hermione, recognizing the voice and turning around. "I'm over here!" She waved her arms, searching for the small body of the elf.

"Mistress!" called Winky. She was high up the mountain and coming down at a breakneck speed. "Mistress!" she called again, rushing right by and ignoring Ron and Honey. "Mistress!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks in her happiness to have found Hermione. "Where is Master being, Mistress?" she asked.

"Harry's still in the mountain," answered Hermione. "He has a portkey with a target just inside."

"Winky isn't being feeling Master," said Winky. "Master..." She looked back at the mountain, unsure of what she wanted to say.

"Can you call for help from Jumper?" asked Hermione. "I've been calling for a while and he hasn't come."

Winky concentrated for several seconds before shaking her head. "Winky isn't hearing _The Voice_ at all, Mistress," she said. "What is being happening, Mistress?" She looked confused but less panicked since she was with her Mistress.

"I don't understand it, myself, Winky," said Hermione. "All magic has been blocked in this area. Even the voice is cut off."

"What is we to be doing, Mistress," asked Winky.

"Keep moving down this hill," ordered Hermione. She set off herself. "Tell me as soon as you can hear the voice, Winky."

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky.

The two of them walked steadily downhill for another ten minutes until Winky said, "Mistress. Winky is being in the presence of _The Voice_."

"At last," said Hermione. "Contact Jumper. Ask him to bring some help. We need to carry Ron down to here so that he can be returned to Hogwarts. After that..."

A series of apparition pops sprang up around them. The cavalry had arrived.

"Thank goodness," sighed Hermione. "We need to get Ron down to this point," she pointed at the ground. "There's some sort of an anti-magic field that ends here."

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," answered Jumper. "Where is Master Ron being?"

"Just up this hill," said Hermione. She led the way.

When they reached Ron and Honey, Jumper began to direct his elves on the best way to construct a makeshift stretcher from the materials at hand. While they were doing this, he returned his attention to Hermione. "Mistress Hermione," he asked, "Where is Sleepy being?"

This returned Hermione's mind to a memory she had temporarily blocked. "Sleepy," she began, pausing to try to keep from bursting into tears, "Sleepy was killed."

All the other elves stopped in shock for a moment. Jumper was also surprised, but, being in command, now, he quickly said, "Be making Master Ron's stretcher. Jumper is being telling Sleepy's story when we is being back in the presence of _The Voice_." The other elves, perhaps grudgingly, went back to work.

"Sleepy," began Hermione, again, "Well, we were all in trouble. The magic vanished while we were inside the volcano." She gestured randomly at the hillside. "We had to pull Ron down a tunnel while magma started to fill up the far end. We made it to the hole that led to an upper tunnel but only had a few minutes to try to get up out the hole. It was ten feet high and Ron couldn't even stand so we were trapped. Apparition didn't work. Nothing worked. When the magma was just a few feet away, Sleepy told us to hang on tight to Ron and the next thing we knew, we were thrown through the hole. I..." She broke down, again, for a bit while Jumper waited, patiently. "I looked down right after we landed but Sleepy was already getting covered by the magma. She didn't move at all. I think she was already dead. Ron's carpet was down there, too, so we ended up dragging him the rest of the way out."

"This is being a bad day, Mistress," said Jumper. "Slider and Sleepy is both being dead. Harry Potter is..."

"Slider isn't dead," corrected Hermione. "Slider's with Harry. They'll be coming out, soon." She instinctively look at her watch and back at the stream, as if expecting Harry to pop out of the water at any moment.

"Slider is being dead, Mistress," repeated Jumper. "Slider is being choosing to be being dead so Harry Potter is being alive."

"No," countered Hermione, "you're wrong. You're wrong!" She backed away, quickly, and tripped over a rock. Sitting on her bum, she said, "You must be wrong, Jumper. If Slider died to save Harry, where's Harry? He'd be here by now so you must be wrong." She was smiling at him now as if he were a child who just didn't understand something very simple.

"Jumper," said Ron, from his position next to Honey. He indicated that Jumper should join him.

"Yes, Master Ron," replied Jumper.

Ron whispered, "We aren't sure of anything, yet, but perhaps we should let Hermione sit and think, for a while."

Jumper looked back at the still sitting but now slightly agitated Hermione before agreeing. "We is being getting everyone back to Hogwarts," he said. "That is being the most important thing to be being doing, now, Master Ron."

* * *

Over the next two hours, and with a difficulty to which the elves weren't accustomed, the small troop of elves and the two witches managed to convey Ron (carry would have implied much less time on the ground) to the first available apparition point. It was up the hill quite a way from where the Hogwarts Free Elves had first arrived. This gave some badly needed false hope to Hermione that the whole anti-magic field would dissipate before too much longer. It was also appreciated since all of the humans were still somewhat damp and it was getting late in the afternoon. Now that they were somewhere where their wands worked, they were all able to dry themselves off.

"I'll be fine," said Hermione, as the Weasleys, giving up on talking her into coming with them, offered to stay with her. "You two go on back and see if you can locate another carpet for Ron to do research with."

"Hermione," began Ron. He didn't know if he wanted to bring some logic into the conversation.

"What is it, Ron?" asked Hermione. She didn't seem to be concerned at all.

He decided that he didn't. "We'll send someone back with some food and camping gear." He knew he wasn't doing her any favors but wasn't quite ready to let go, either.

"Thanks, Ron," said Hermione. "I'm famished. I'm sure that we won't need a tent or anything, though. Harry will be along shortly." She stepped away as Jumper, Windy, Curly and Pounder popped off with Ron and Honey. Winky and Millie stayed with Hermione.

"We'd better go pick out our spots," said Hermione as she walked back up the hill. "It might be quite a while before Harry gets back."

* * *

The trio waited patiently for almost an hour. Millie was being the normal house-elf; standing patiently to the side while waiting for orders. Winky was being Winky; pacing a bit while muttering to herself. She chanced the occasional glance towards Hermione who sat on a comfortable rock, waiting with an uncharacteristic blank stare in her eyes. She was thinking of all of the times that Harry had made her wait next to his bed in Madam Pomfrey's hospital. Once was when he'd fought Quirrel and Voldemort. Once when he fell during a dementor attack during a quidditch game. Then there was the time when he had stopped the Hogwarts Express as a dragon. She would have to speak to him about all the time she seemed to be wasting waiting for him.

It was getting to be near dusk, but not quite twilight when a witch and an elf emerged from the shadows and approached. The witch carried a large pack while the elf walked ashamedly behind with a basket of food. Jumper was the one supposed to be doing the work; not the Headmistress. Upon reaching the edge of the anti-magic zone, however, he found that the tent and provisions took on their full weight. He could have made it up the hill but it would have taken quite a while as he was having quite enough trouble with the large basket.

"Hello, Hermione," said Minerva, taking a jovial tone until she could access the situation.

"Hello, Minerva," said Hermione. "Have you brought some food? Harry's taking his own sweet time getting here, tonight." She got up and started to look through the basket.

"Yes," said Minerva, getting the drift. "We have enough to wait quite a while." She looked through the basket and pulled out some biscuits.

"I'm surprised you came all this way, Minerva," said Hermione. She sat down, having found a nice leg of mutton. She took a bite and chewed it, silently.

"It was the least I could do," said Minerva. "To tell you the truth," she added, "I need a break. I haven't been able to sleep through the night for a week."

"You could say 'no', once in a while," said Hermione, smirking.

"Really?" asked Minerva. "I didn't know that." They both laughed.

"I can't say 'no' to Harry, either," confessed Hermione. "And not just when he wanted to have a 'discussion'." She said the last word in such a suggestive way that Minerva knew exactly what she meant. "It's gotten me in quite a few interesting situations."

"Starting with a three-headed dog," said Minerva. "I still don't know how the three of you came out of that one alive."

"That was one of the easy ones," said Hermione.

She and Minerva, each wrapped in a blanket to ward off the slight chill in the night-time air, then spent the next few hours sharing stories of their adventures and moments, both frightening and comical; serious and personal; that they had with the loves of their life. Minerva spoke with unfettered fondness of her courtship and marriage to Magnus. They, like Harry and Hermione, had been in Gryffindor together and had fallen in love before graduating. They did, however, wait to marry until Magnus, a gifted student of Transfiguration himself, had landed his first job. They lived in the small starter cottage for many years. It only had the one extra bedroom and they knew that when the second, or at the most, the third child came along, they'd need to find a larger dwelling. Try as they might, and Minerva blushed a bit as she admitted that they had tried a lot, they had no children. They had each other, though, and that's what mattered. Still, she felt an emptiness inside that probably led her to a career in teaching. She loved all the children as her own, but still kept a hope alive that someday she'd have at least one of her own.

After almost three decades of muted happiness, Magnus had become ill. Minerva didn't give any details but would only say that he lay wasting in their bed for almost three months before being released. The last month, he didn't even know her. She shed a tear over this long past tragedy while Hermione put her arm around her in comfort.

Hermione then shared her tales of trolls and chessboards; basilisks and dementors. They both remembered the first time Harry had fought the dragon in the First Task. She told how they had drifted apart last year before coming to their senses. About how Ron and Ginny had to 'knock their heads together' to get them to wise up. About the trip to Madame Malkin's to get the dress. About the visit with Jim and Ruby Sarus to get her ring. Hermione held up the ring as an example when she noticed something wrong.

"The diamond!" she shouted, looking around on the ground in panic. "The diamond's gone!" The ring with the Leviton setting, guaranteed never to lose the diamond, had lost the diamond. Hermione and Minerva both looked around frantically. The elves rushed to help. After a few minutes, Hermione said, "It was held in place by magic. It must have fallen out when we were in the tunnel." She sat down and began to cry.

"Hermione," said Minerva, putting her arm around her, "it's just a diamond. It can be replaced."

"I don't care about the diamond," said Hermione. "Harry gave it to me." She sobbed some more before continuing. "Harry gave it to me and now he's... he's..." She still couldn't say it but she did understand, at last. Harry wasn't coming back.

Minerva held onto Hermione through the rest of the night. The younger of the two cried as if she'd never stop. The elder remembered the two times that she'd done the same. It didn't make it easier, though.

Eventually, the sky began to lighten. As the sun first shone over the eastern horizon, Millie said, "We is being in the presence of _The Voice_, again, Mistress."

Minerva took her wand and tried a levitation spell. The unused tent rose without hesitation.

"It seems that this," Minerva waved her arms around in confusion, "whatever-it-was has lifted. We can do magic, again."

"That's nice," said Hermione. Her eyes ached from the crying but not as much as her heart ached for her husband. "You'd better be getting back, Minerva."

"You'd better be coming with me," said Minerva. It was time for a gentle nudge back to reality.

"In a bit," said Hermione. "I just can't..." She looked at Minerva and said, "I know I can't wait forever but I still want to wait a bit longer."

Minerva said, "I understand. If you aren't back by evening, either I or someone else will come to stay with you."

"Thanks," said Hermione. She didn't say any more as Minerva took Jumper's hand and popped away.

Hermione, Winky and Millie waited for some sign from Harry. It never came. By noon, Hermione asked the two elves, "Can either of you feel Harry at all?"

Both elves concentrated. Millie stopped first and said, "No, Mistress. I isn't being feeling Harry Potter."

Winky kept at it for a full minute. She then said, "Winky isn't feeling Master, yet, Mistress, but Winky is keeping trying."

Hermione smiled at her before saying, "I think we can stop trying, Winky. It's time to go home." She held out her hands, and with an elf taking one each, they popped away.


	79. Chapter 79

Chapter 79 - Nothing's Changed

November 1, 1997

Hermione returned to the hospital wing of the school. She didn't have time to wonder at why the elves brought her here because she was immediately smothered in a hug from her mother.

"Oh, Hermione," said Emma, tears pouring out of her already bloodshot eyes. "This is just so terrible." She almost pulled Hermione down as her legs became unsupportive. This had the awkward result of leaving Hermione to comfort her mother.

"Sit down, Mum," said Hermione, steering her mother to a nearby bed. In her mind, she was screaming, 'Don't say it! Don't say it!'

"My baby," cried Emma, "to have lost her husband so soon." She really was a basket case. Much more so than Hermione because Emma actually believed it. Hermione, however, wouldn't truly believe until they dug Harry's body out of ten thousand tons of basalt.

"Hermione," said her dad, "we want to help you through this. Would you like to come home for awhile? You know; to be away from everything." Dan, like anyone in this position, didn't know what to say or do but needed to help his daughter.

Hermione looked around. It was a delaying tactic but it worked. Besides her parents, Winky remained in the room as well as Poppy. The other elves had left, not having a part in such comfort. She gained another few seconds of time by deducing that her parents must have been given a blood transfusion by Poppy. Othewise, they wouldn't have been able to be here. Her thoughts were then forced back to the fact that her father had just asked her a very tempting question. Before Hermione could answer, though, Jumper popped next to her.

"Mistress Hermione," said Jumper. "Headmistress is being coming here soon. She is being asking for you to be being waiting here."

"Of course, Jumper," said Hermione, tiredly. After dragging Ron what seemed like ten miles and then talking and crying with Minerva all night, she was almost spent. If the truth were known, she was about ready to take her father up on his offer. It would be nice to just go home and forget about everything for awhile. She then guiltily thought of how Slider and Sleepy had also died. Did they have families that were grieving now, just as she was? Would anyone know or care? She remembered that they didn't find out that Dobby and Winky were married until after Dobby's death.

"Jumper," asked Hermione, not wishing to let her other companions deaths be forgotten, "did Slider and Sleepy have families?"

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," responded Jumper. "Slider and Sleepy is having many house-elves being their family."

"Oh, dear," said Hermione. "I won't interrupt them now, but sometime soon I'll want to tell them how brave they were and how very much I'll miss them both."

"Jumper is hearing Slider when he is being talking to the flame master, Mistress," said Jumper. "Jumper is telling Hogwarts house-elves story of how Slider is being dying. Jumper is telling house-elves Mistress Hermione's story of how Sleepy is being dying. House-elves is all being proud that Slider and Sleepy is being dying helping Harry Potter and his friends to be being saved."

"You heard what happened with Harry and the fire golem?" asked Hermione, greedily. "Tell me, Jumper. Tell me everything."

"Slider is being knowing that Slider and Harry Potter might not be being coming back from meeting fire master, Mistress," explained Jumper. "Slider is using _The Voice _to be making sure that Sleepy and Jumper is knowing all that is being said and being done." He then told Hermione what had happened from the time Slider and Harry left her sight until Slider told the fire golem that he was ready. Beyond that, of course, he could say nothing.

Hermione sat silently and motionless after Jumper had finished. She was in shock. Not until Minerva entered the room with Remus, Tonks, Honey and Ron, now in a wheelchair, did she come out of it.

"Pointless!" she shouted. She seemed to be cured of her previous fatigue. "The whole bloody trip was pointless." No one knew why she was saying this but they didn't have time to ask for an explanation.

"The horcrux wasn't there," continued Hermione as everyone gathered around her. "Voldemort had already taken it. We didn't have to go there at all." She sat there, fuming at the whole situation. It was bad enough to have lost Harry. Over the course of the evening and night with Minerva she had come to accept that they should expect to pay a terrible price to win the war. Dumbledore was the first major loss. That had been terrible but at least it led the way to finding a horcrux. Harry had been wasted. Slider and Sleepy, as well.

"How do you know this?" asked Minerva. She sat on the other side of Hermione from Emma.

Hermione didn't speak, but Poppy said, "Jumper just told us. He was in contact, somehow, with Slider until the end."

'This should all wait until we all, especially Hermione, can come to grips with the shock," suggested Remus. "I know I'm not thinking clearly right now. Everything's changed now that Harry's..." He couldn't say it, either.

"I've already brought that up," said Dan. "Hermione. Why don't you come home for a while and just be with your family?" Emma looked at her daughter and nodded, encouragingly.

"Because we can't take a break," said Hermione, standing up. She wasn't tired, anymore. She had her anger to sustain her. Her tears dried up and she became very cold. "Nothing's changed. We still need to destroy Voldemort. We still know where one horcrux is located that we can get. If Voldemort has been moving them, we need to act before it's too late. Without Harry, finding them will be nearly impossible."

"There's more than one of them?" asked Poppy. She was out of the official loop when it came to their ultimate purpose, but she had overheard what they were looking for, already. She had also lived long enough to have a good understanding of what a horcrux was and how it was used. This mention of another one, though, was unheard of.

"Yes," said Ron. He trusted the nurse and the cat was out of the bag, anyway. "The one that used to be at Mt. Etna was the last one we needed to find. All of the others are either destroyed, in our possession or located."

"It was the last of the old ones," corrected Hermione. "There could be hundreds more, for all we know." She thought a moment before adding. "Maybe we did learn something. If Voldemort had other horcruxes, why go to the trouble to get this one?" After a moment, she sighed and said, "I don't know. Maybe he went to fetch it right after he was reborn. We can't know anything for certain. That's why we need to get the pendulum as soon as possible."

"Perhaps Rufus could help," said Minerva. "If he could get us up to the clockworks without having to deal with the muggles, it would be much easier. I'll ask him when he gets here."

"Fine," said Hermione. "We'll need to find out if there's another way to detect horcruxes. Fortunately, we have one we can practice with." She didn't think of it at the moment, but she was officially taking over command.

"Hermione," said Honey. "Don't you think you should give yourself at least a little time? It's like you're already over..."

"I'm not over anything," barked Hermione. Piece by piece, her armor was going up. "I'm just not going to let it get to me until I'm standing in front of Voldemort. Then he'll bloody well wish he'd never been born."

No one in the room was willing to suggest otherwise.

* * *

Coincidentally, at the same time that Hermione was declaring her plans for the rest of her life, another small gathering was taking place.

"So they know we're planning on attacking them with a submarine?" asked Snape.

"Yes," said Fletcher. "They didn't mention it more'an twice, but they seemed ta think it'wer funny."

"Hmm," said Voldemort. "I'd like your memories of the entire party. I'll view it personally. Any number of important items might have been mentioned."

"Yes, Sir," said Mundungus. "Right away, Sir." Fletcher bowed his way out of the room in search of an appropriate vial.

"It was fortunate that Fletcher was released in time to attend Molly's party, Master," said Snape.

"Perhaps," agreed Lord Voldemort. Fletcher, being a thief and fence besides also being an informer, spent more than his share of time in Azkaban. "Why would they find an attack humorous?" He furrowed what was left of his brow.

"They may be aware of the difficulties we're encountering," suggested Snape. "Preston had been involved in the project and knew that, other than knowing how to change direction, maneuvering these submarines is still a mystery."

"Not an insurmountable one," said Lord Voldemort. "We always have the option of controlling the crew and merely telling them where to take us."

"Of course," agreed Snape. "As you've ordered, I've doubled our efforts to find a location where we'd be able to board one of these ships. So far, they seem to be particularly well guarded."

"Indeed," replied the Dark Lord. "We may be forced to exchange secrecy for expediency. I have no desire to let Potter go unchecked for much longer." Without further discussion, he whirled around and returned to the main hall. The Pensieve was located off to the north side. Fletcher's memories should be ready soon. After he had viewed them, he might have more insight.

* * *

November 1, 1997

Later that afternoon in the office of the Headmistress...

"Back off," said Hermione, in a normal tone but with a bit of bite. "I'm just about fed up with everyone trying to comfort me, thank you very much."

Luna backed up a few steps. Looking into Hermione's eyes, she said, "You can't hide it from me, Hermione. I won't bother you, now, but remember; when the time comes, I'll be there to listen. A husband is something I don't have, yet," at this point, she glanced at Dougal, "but I did watch my mother die. When you want to talk, I'm one of the ones who'll understand."

Hermione wanted to lash out at Luna. A part of her was screaming 'No one understands but me because no one but me was his wife!' When it came down to it, though, she knew that Luna, more than Minerva, understood what it was like to lose someone you loved suddenly and much, much too soon.

"Thank you, Luna," she said when she had controlled herself. "I'm sure you're right. Now just isn't the time."

"I know," said Luna. "In your heart, you're still expecting Harry to come through that door and say something like 'Wow. That was a close one.'"

Hermione laughed. For a moment, her mind was taken from her grief to the fact that Luna had spoken two truths. That was exactly the sort of thing Harry would say and she did still expect it, somewhere inside her heart.

The other members of the Inner Circle, plus Rufus, looked as she laughed. They had serious business to discuss and it was unlikely that there would be any further lightheartedness.

"I think we'd better start," said Minerva. She took her seat behind her desk and motioned for the rest to pick a chair and sit down. After they were all seated, she continued. "We have two major items to address. We need to inform the world that Harry Potter is..., that Harry's no longer... alive." 'Damn,' she thought. 'I still don't believe it.'

Hermione stared straight at the floor while the rest of them, except for Ron, who was also checking for loose nails, glanced her way. Ron, she thought, though he had tried to mask his pain, was one of the other ones she knew would understand.

"The second task is to retrieve the one other horcrux that we are aware of," finished Minerva. "Rufus. You've been invited here because you might be of use."

"Finally," said Rufus, forcefully. Everyone chuckled. Rufus had been an auror for a long time and had to deal with many a brave man falling in the line of duty. Assuming an air of bravado about the whole thing seemed to help the other aurors get through it all and move on. He hoped that the same would be true for Harry's friends. Harry, himself, he suspected, wouldn't want everyone, especially Hermione, to suffer more than necessary because of his death.

"Now, Rufus," began Minerva. "We need to take the pendulum out of the Westminster clockworks and replace it with a perfect replica." She waited for his comment.

Rufus stared straight ahead for two seconds before stating, deadpan, "No problem. I keep a spare in my office, just in case." Again, some muted laughter. He thought some more before saying, "I'll probably have to get with my boss at Number 10 to arrange something like that. I take it you'd like it to remain a secret?"

"Of course," said Hermione. "It has to not only look the same but work the same. They adjust that clock with pennies on the pendulum. Somehow, we need to adjust the new pendulum so that the same number of pennies will be on it as before. That won't be easy."

"Perhaps an initial visit," said Remus, "just to see what we'll be needing."

"That shouldn't be too hard," said Tonks. "Special tours are arranged all the time. Any of the muggle Ministers can handle that."

"I'll get on it," said Rufus. "We'll take it from there, once we know more about what we're up against."

"I agree," said Minerva. "Now, on to the more, ah, difficult task." She swallowed hard and reached for some water.

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, the tears already applying pressure to be released.

"The two main questions that need to be answered are 'when' and 'how'," said Rufus. "If anyone thinks that an immediate disclosure would cause problems with getting the pendulum, we could just make up some sort of a story that has Harry out of the country for a few days."

"Well," began Ron, "that might not be a bad idea in any event. A day or so before the media blitz might be better for Hermione, as well."

"No, it wouldn't," said Hermione. "I'd have to drop off the face of the Earth before anyone could be fooled that everything was okay. If you think I could eat in the Great Hall or attend classes without everyone knowing something was up, you're crazy. And then there are those who have a right to know. What about Ginny, Ron? How would she feel when she found out? Your whole family would have to be lied to. I know he wasn't close to them but Harry's real family has to be considered, as well. Having my own family staying with me would also have to be explained with a lie. No. I think that just coming out with it, probably tomorrow, would be the best choice. That would give me and everyone else a whole day to have it out in the open before classes on Monday."

"Surely," said McGonagall, "you aren't planning on..."

"I won't be in classes," interrupted Hermione. "Not for a few days, at least. I'll need to hide for a while. There's only a dozen people who know Harry's... gone. I don't want to be there when the whole school finds out."

"I'm not sure that you'll be spared any unwanted comfort," said Remus. "It'll just be delayed."

"Well," said Ron, "that might be enough. I'm not too keen on having a hundred idiots running up asking me how it happened, either."

"Which brings up another question that will need answering," said Dougal. "Harry has proven on several occasions that he's not that easy to kill. It may be in bad taste, but everyone will be curious as to what finally succeeded."

Hermione stood up and turned on Dougal. "Who cares if they don't know the specifics? We can't tell the truth, anyway. Just say he died and that we aren't providing the play by play details. Anyone who asks can just go to hell."

No one spoke. It was apparent that Hermione wouldn't be in any condition to play along with any charade about Harry being out of town. That answered the question, once and for all, of when should they announce the news. The answer was soon.

"Well," said Minerva, after Hermione sat back down, "I suppose that we should notify the next of kin, first. I assume this would include his aunt and uncle as well as all of the Weasleys." She didn't want to set her off again, but this really was Hermione's choice. "Hermione, my dear. I'm sure that anyone here would be willing to accompany you on any personal visits you'd like to make. If you wish, some of us could also deliver the news as your representative. Do you wish to make any decisions at this time?"

Hermione didn't want to think about it at all. The more she had to deal with everything, the more she wanted to take her father's advice and drop out of sight. Harry deserved more than that, though, and his wife would see to it that all of the appropriate people were informed and the newspapers notified. Grimly, she came to understand that the best thing she could do for both Harry and herself would be to make all of the calls personally. If she told a dozen or so people that Harry was dead, she might begin to believe it. "I'll talk to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, alone," she said. "After that, Ron and I'll talk to Ginny and the rest of his family. We'll have to tell Martha and Oliver, as well. Other than those that are here or already know, I don't think anyone outside of the other students are close enough to be treated specially." She looked at Ron and asked, "You _will_ come with me, won't you Ron?" Her voice clipped off just a tad at the tail end of the question.

"Of course," said Ron. He widened his arms for a hug and tried to rise and come over to her but his wheelchair didn't respond as well as his carpet used to.

Seeing his difficulty, Hermione came to him and gave him the intended hug.

"I'm afraid I don't know the whole story," said Rufus. "Was Ron's carpet lost, as well?"

"Oh," said Honey. "Yes, Minister. It was burnt." She rubbed the back of Ron's wheelchair, as if trying to view it as an acceptable substitute.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Rufus. "Would you like to borrow mine?"

"You have a flying carpet?" asked Hermione, jumping at the opportunity to change the overarching subject.

"Of course," said Rufus. "They were pretty common, once upon a time." He, like Harry used to do, looked up and said, "Loxley."

"What can Loxley be doing for Master?" asked the Minister's personal servant.

"Bring the blue flying carpet from the sunroom," said Rufus.

"Yes, Master," said Loxley, before popping off.

"Exactly how many flying carpets do you own, Rufus?" asked Minerva. She had noticed that he had specified which one Loxley should bring.

"Just the two," said Rufus. "Like most families, ours had one large for the whole family and one smaller when just one or two would be traveling."

"Did _anyone_ take the ban seriously?" asked Ron. He remembered how proud his dad was of what had been one of his first regulations.

"No," said Rufus. "We all just rolled them under a table or something."

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "Dad spent a year getting that ban approved."

"Good training," said Rufus," at least on dealing with the bureaucracy." At this point, Loxley returned with the contraband carpet.

"Thanks," said Rufus. He unrolled it in front of Ron. "Lend a hand, here, Draco," said the Minister. Dougal hesitated for a moment, not having heard his given name in public for a while, but quickly took one side of Ron while Rufus took the other. "No worries. We plan on ending up on the floor, anyway." He winked at Ron as the two of them set him on the carpet.

Ron activated the carpet and immediately rose a good eight feet high.

"Whoa," said Ron, bringing the carpet under control. "This baby's got a lot of lift."

"It was a racing model," said Rufus. "I think I had it over a hundred and twenty a few times when I was a lad."

"Thanks, Minister," said Ron, rolling from side to side as he tried to maintain the carpet's stability. He was still depressed from losing Harry but somewhere in the back of his head, a mental note was being written to put the new carpet through its paces. "Honey? You might have to help steady me while I get the hang of this." He backed up to hover just over his redundant wheelchair, still rocking gently.

"You're welcome, Ron," said Rufus. He smiled briefly before returning to business. "Now, Hermione," he began, "I'm pretty sure that neither you nor Harry would have wanted this but there will have to be some sort of public memorial service." He paused to allow Hermione to roll her eyes in the expected manner. She added some crossed arms, just for good measure.

"There'll be no getting around it," added Remus. "Besides being a celebrity, Harry was also widely respected. In the eyes of the public, as well as some of us who knew him, not acknowledging him in a public way would be a huge insult."

Hermione simmered for a moment longer. She wanted to go to her room and lock the world out. Well, she'd let her parents in, but she absolutely did not want to sit through some public extravaganza with a bunch of Ministry blowhards going on about how they were devastated that their close friend, Harry Potter, had met his fate. She'd likely blast the lot of them. She knew, however, that Remus and Rufus were right. It was annoying but unavoidable. This entire analysis took all of two seconds and she nodded her consent.

"Okay," said Rufus. "I'll set up something. I think we'll shoot for Tuesday morning. If you think of something you'd like to have said or done, just let Minerva know." Again, Hermione nodded but remained silent.

"Poor Rufus," said Minerva, smiling thoughtfully. "You seem to have the most to do, what with arranging a tour of the Westminster bell tower and the memorial service.

"I have a question, Minister," said Ron. "When it was brought up that we thought a horcrux was in the pendulum, it didn't seem to surprise you. Why was that?"

"I'd already heard about it," said Rufus. "Just a word or two, here and there, mind you."

"I didn't think we were that careless around you," said Minerva, shocked.

"We weren't," said Rufus, "just you, Minerva."

"Me?" asked Minerva, clearly shocked. She certainly didn't remember discussing that topic.

"You talk in your sleep," explained Rufus as everyone, including Ron and Hermione, gave a knowing nod of comprehension.

* * *

November 1, 1997

In the Small Conference Room of the Dark Lord's Lair...

"I don't know," snapped Voldemort. "Are you happy now?" The Dark Lord seldom resorted to sarcastic bitterness but Snape had pushed him far enough. Snape was not happy, of course, that he had inadvertently embarrassed his boss into such a response. The other top Death Eaters might have been amused, but they knew better than to express that openly. Well, Richards giggled a bit, but he did that so often that the rest of them automatically blocked it out.

"I'm sorry that I let my emotions carry me away, Master," said Snape, truthfully. "I just can't understand how this could be true."

"It must be," said Voldemort. "There is no doubt, from the partial conversations Fletcher overheard, that Potter does not have a fortress in the far north. Why we continue to detect our captured fellow Death Eaters in that direction cannot be determined at this time, but we must let the truth be the truth. I will assume, for the time being, that Potter is either using Hogwarts or some stronghold nearby as his base. The house-elves fit into that scenario much better than using some fortress almost two thousand miles away."

"I agree," said Snape. "Shall I redirect our efforts into establishing the exact location he is using?"

"Immediately," answered Voldemort. "Also, we should redouble our efforts to plant another spy in the school. Whether student or staff doesn't matter, but I want it handled quickly."

"Yes, Master," answered Snape.

"I also think it's time for our less robust friends to start earning their keep," continued Voldemort. "I'll inform the dementors that they'll need to reinstall their spines and prepare to face Potter and his forces, again. Honestly, you wouldn't think they'd be so craven just because he can produce a decent Patronus. Perhaps mine will inspire them to greater courage." Those nearby were not so curious as to the nature of the Dark Lord's Patronus as to the happy thoughts he might use to produce it.

Voldemort thought for a moment longer and, having covered the topics he had in mind, said simply, "That's all. Not you, Richards. Stay a moment." This was a not so subtle clue to the others that they should leave quickly.

After everyone had left, Voldemort motioned for Richards to come closer. "Richards," he began, "I have a very special assignment for you. It will involve a little international travel and if you breathe one word of this to anyone, your dancing days are over. Do you understand?"

Richards smiled nervously, as was his habit when nearly fainting, but mustered enough courage to nod his head.

"Excellent," said the Dark Lord. "Now, this is what I want you to do."

* * *

Later that evening, at the Burrow...

"Not that I'm complaining about being with my loving family," said George.

"But it is Saturday night," continued Fred.

"Our ladies weren't too keen on breaking our dates," added George.

"Especially since we couldn't give adequate reasons for doing so," explained Fred.

"So perhaps we should get down to business and let Percy catch up later," finished George.

The entire Weasley clan, which just two days earlier had met in this very house to celebrate the birthday of the family's matriarch, now sat waiting for the former prodigal son to arrive so that Hermione and Ron, both currently sequestered with with their elf bodyguards in the sewing room could inform everyone of some sort of news at the same time. Ron had suggested, and Hermione had agreed, that it might be best to let Minerva and Hermione's parents inform the Dursleys. Ron had perceived, quite correctly, that if Vernon, the principal tormentor of Harry's youth said anything verbally incendiary about Harry's death, Hermione would be hard pressed to keep from escalating to physically incinerating him. It probably was best, all around. After the sob-fest with Martha and Honey when they told Martha and Oliver the news, Hermione's nerves were on a hair trigger. Honey was so emotionally drained that she requested to be left behind for this trip.

When Hermione was ready, she and Ron had Millie and Tripper take them to the Burrow. Ron gave his mother very brief instructions to bring her entire extended family for some very important news. Most of them were contacted by floo, including Percy's wife, Penelope. Charlie and Ginny had their invitations extended by elf since they were at Hogwarts. Now they were only waiting for Percy. Percy had some important Ministry business to attend to and had sent word that he couldn't answer the summons. An elf had been sent to inform him that yes, he could. They were expected back shortly.

"I think they might be expecting," suggested Molly, optimistically. Only Molly had seen the duo. Ron and Hermione had excused themselves to the sewing room to await the arrival of everyone. "Hermione looked tired and cranky. Those are two of the signs."

"So are you expecting again, Mum," asked Charlie. There was a quick sweep of laughter around the room.

"Don't you think Harry'd be here if that were the case?" asked Ginny.

"He's probably out buying cigars for everyone," suggested Arthur. "That could take a bit to get enough for our lot."

"If we have to give up on our ladies," began George.

"They'd better be Montecristos," finished Fred.

"What?" asked Bill. "If they aren't Montecristos they won't count?" Fleur laughed dutifully at her husband's joke but was joined for only a few, halting chuckles.

"I think marriage is ruining you," said Charlie. "You usually didn't have to reach that far for a pun."

"Oh, don't say it," said Ginny. "If Harry's puns are going to get worse now that he's married, I'm sure I don't want to hear them."

Pop! Percy and Millie joined the rest of the Weasleys.

"I certainly hope this is important," said Percy. "Hello, Mum. Dad." Taking his place next to Penelope, he looked around. "They aren't even here?"

"They're waiting in the sewing room," said Molly, giving her son a hug in greeting. "I'll let them know you've finally arrived."

"Thanks," said Percy. "I need to get back as soon as possible. The Minister's depending on me." He thought a second before adding, "Although, he did sound a little strange when I told him I had to leave for a few minutes. Seemed a bit sad. It's almost as if he knew what this was all about."

"He did," said Hermione as she led the way into the main area of the house. She was really starting to look like someone who just lost their husband, had nearly been killed and hadn't slept for almost a day and a half. Those in front silently gasped at her appearance.

"Well, out with it, then," said Ginny. She was one of the latest arrivals and didn't have a seat with a good view. "Mum's hoping for another grandchild but I think..." She stopped when she noticed Fred and Bill looking back her way, raising their fingers to their lips with very concerned expressions on their faces.

"We called you all here so that we could tell you in person that..." Hermione paused and tried to force back another bout of tears. Failing, she motioned for Ron to take over.

Ron, floating forward a bit, swallowed hard and said, "Harry's... dead. He was..."

"No!" shouted Molly. "No! No! No! No! No!" She had rushed forward and was pounding on Ron's chest with each 'No!'. "Aiee!" she screamed before falling limp to the floor.

General bedlam erupted as Molly was carried to the sofa; her sons and Arthur tried to restore order by giving each other several, and sometimes conflicting commands; Hermione, Penelope and Fleur all broke down crying and Ron was rubbing his bruised chest. In all the confusion, no one noticed Ginny standing near the wall. She wasn't crying or screaming or anything. Her world had come to a complete stop and she neither heard nor saw anything for almost a minute. When her reboot had completed, her eyes came online first and the first thing she saw was Hermione. Her eyes narrowed.

"You!" she hissed, loudly and with hatred. "You finally got him killed."

"Ginny!" Rebuked Ron and Arthur, simultaneously. Ron had more info on his side and continued. "There wasn't anything we could do. The lava..."

"It doesn't look like you tried," snapped back Ginny. "None of you are hurt at all. Did you just stand by..."

"SHUT UP!" screamed Hermione. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" She dropped to the floor bellowing out loud moans of despair and regret.

Ginny, restrained and chastened by her family, had her fury blown out by this gust of reality. "I'm sorry," she cried, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The tears leaked through her fingers on their way to the floor.

The apology did nothing to calm Hermione. She wasn't angry. She wasn't sad. She was hysterical. Rocking back and forth on the floor, she assumed the fetal position as she sobbed uncontrollably. The emotion that she had bottled up after the first session with Minerva came crashing out again. All attempts to comfort and calm her were met with terrified eyes and more retreat into insanity.

Arthur, perhaps the only one experienced with dealing with a woman driven completely over the edge as Hermione was, drew his wand and cast a little known and slightly illegal calming charm that he had to use from time to time on his wife when the twins had acted up particularly effectively. After the third time, Hermione was able to catch her breath. A few seconds of relative quiet gave her the ability to rise from the floor and fix her hair a bit.

"I'm fine," she said as Molly, who had also received a quick shot from Arthur when Hermione was under control, came and put her arms around her. "I'm fine," she repeated before looking around. "Where's Ginny?"

"She's in the kitchen with Fleur and Penelope," said Bill. "She didn't really mean it, Hermione."

"I know that," said Hermione. "At least not as much as it sounded. I've been thinking the same thing, myself, and to hear someone else say that I should have been able to save him..."

"Have a seat, dear," said Molly. She brushed back her own tears and continued with, "I'll get you a cup of tea. When you're ready, you can tell us what happened." She smiled at Hermione, who nodded in appreciation. Molly left to get the tea and have a word with her daughter.

The living room and parlor, although both filled to capacity, were as quiet as tombs. Ron hovered by Hermione, putting his arm around her as she continued to take deep, calming breaths. The Weasley men sat in their chairs, looking at each other. None wanted to break the silence.

After a minute, Ginny, still crying and extremely shaken, was led back by Fleur and Penelope. "I'm sorry, Hermione," she said, softly. "I just went crazy for a moment. If there's one thing I know, it's that you would have done whatever it took to save Harry, if you could. I... I'm sorry." She knelt down and gave Hermione a hug.

"We're all upset," said Hermione. "Just have a seat and Ron and I'll tell you all what happened."

Ginny went back to her place and sat down. Hermione stood. It seemed that the combination of letting off some of her emotional energy and the three calming charms left her able to speak openly of Harry's death.

"I know you already know this," began Hermione, "but just remember that no one else is to hear any of these details." She then told the tale, beginning at the birthday party and ending with the arrival of Jumper and the elves. Ron added to the narration when he thought Hermione was leaving out important information but it was her story to tell. The specific details of why they wanted to converse with a fire golem were left out but the rest of the story was difficult enough as it was. When Hermione had finished, she sat silently, gazing at the floor.

"Buried alive," moaned Molly, leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed. "Our poor Harry, buried alive." She held her hands over her eyes as the tears streamed out. Arthur put his arm around her but no one was feeling any better.

Ron said, "Rufus said he's set up some sort of a memorial service on Tuesday. The details will probably be in the paper." A few Weasley's nodded but didn't speak. "It looks like Hermione could use some sleep so..." Ron stopped at Hermione's brief laugh.

"I most definitely need some sleep," she said, smiling gently. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other in the next few days. Thank you all for coming and letting me tell this just the once."

"Of course, Hermione," replied Arthur. "Would you like to stay here so that we could look after you?" Molly perked up at this. She always felt better when she could help, in times like this.

"My mum and dad are back at school," she replied. "I'm in good hands." She stood up to leave. Everyone cycled through the room and gave her a hug and/or kiss in comfort. When they had finished, the elves took Ron and Hermione back to Hogwarts.

* * *

That night, after her parents were safely tucked in in the spare bedroom, Hermione sat on her bed with a potion in her hand. It was a gift from Poppy; a potion of dreamless sleep. Hermione debated on whether to use it or not. On the one hand, she wouldn't have any nightmares. That would be good. On the other hand, she might prevent a wonderful dream about the good times she'd had with Harry. That would be bad. In the end, she decided that hope overrode caution and decided to take her chances. Setting the potion on the night stand, just in case, she slipped into that much too large and much too lonely bed. The tears were soft and quiet, now, and before long she fell asleep. An hour later, during one of many trips to check on her daughter, Emma wondered at the faint sounds of humming as Hermione danced the night away in the arms of her husband.

* * *

Author's Note: Here's a word of hope for those of you who wonder if Harry's gone forever. It's always darkest before the dawn.

On a happy note, Library Witch won the gerbil contest. She won a book recommendation. Here's her story. It's only an outline, really, but it tied everything together. The contest was to replace 'Five minutes later...' with the story. Here's the original and the submitted story follows.

"Oh," said Harry. "Then ..." Harry paused a moment before asking his wife, "Exactly how did Greyback come by that information?"

"Well," said Hermione, smiling, "now that you've asked, it's a fairly odd story involving scuba diving, fire whiskey and moccasins. You see..."

Five minutes later...

"Wow," said Ron, "it's a good thing he had that backup gerbil all greased up and ready to go."

"I'll say," agreed Preston. He had been as interested in the tale as the others.

And here's Library Witch's story...

You see the Death Munchers were trying to infiltrate the ministry's outpost on the Isle of Man. Rookwood being the outside of the box thinker that he was came up with the idea of using scuba gear to get into the harbor. No magic to be detected by the security wards you see. Voldie wasn't too sure about the idea working so he wanted Greyback to come up with another plan. You see Greyback loves gerbils. A food that you can play with. So Greyback comes up with idea of sending in one of his pets inside of a supply shipment. He figures if he tucks them into a pair of shoes all greased up, nobody will notice especially if he puts in a case of fire whiskey for the guards and his little pets can slip out once inside and slip through the lock on the gate and tada the gate is open. Well, the only one with a pair of nice shoes was of course Voldie. He had just gotten a pair of handmade moccasins from the mail order service in Salem. Man he loved those shoes. Well, he let Greyback try his plan while Rookwood tried his. Have you ever tried to scuba dive? Neither had the Death Eaters, they all drowned. And guess what? There were lots of cats at that outpost. The moccasins got through but when the gerbil tried to come back to Greyback, yep that's right, kitty snack. But Greyback being the predator that he was, thought that maybe this could happen so he had another gerbil that he put through from the outside. The little rascal got the gate unlocked but by then the Aurors realized something was going on because the scuba death eaters had washed up on the beach before they had finished the first bottle of fire whisky and got there before the Death Eaters could get in. So Voldie was out a pair of brand new moccasins. And totally ** off at Rookwood for screwing up Greyback's plan, which you see would have worked if it wasn't for the scuba divers.

Hey! I didn't see any other entries. See you all next time.

Dad


	80. Chapter 80

Chapter 80 - You're In My World, Now.

November 2, 1997

Raindrops were pattering against the windows when Hermione awoke the next morning. , she was blessed with a few brief seconds of forgetfulness. Perhaps 'blessed' wasn't the word. After a brief search for Harry's arms, which usually could be found holding something physically near to her heart and figuratively near to his, she was pushed back into reality in a most annoying way.

"Damn," she muttered, "I could almost feel them." She laid there a moment longer, trying to bring back the phantom caress.

"Feel what, dear?" asked Emma. She was sitting nearby.

"Oh, hello, Mum," said Hermione, turning over. She sighed before continuing. "For a moment I thought that Harry was holding on to my, er, me when I woke up. I said I could almost feel him."

Emma smiled. "It might take a while for that to stop. They used to say amputees could feel the missing limbs; sometimes for years. I'm sure that will pass in time."

"Will it?" asked Hermione, an anxious look on her face. "I don't want to for, forget what..." she burst out in tears for just a few seconds. "I'm sorry." She buried her face in her mother's chest as Emma rushed to comfort her.

"Don't be," said Emma, rubbing her back. "You cry all you want." They sat like that for a further thirty seconds before Hermione felt better.

"I'm fine now, Mum," she said, smiling weakly. "I just needed a hug." She started to get up.

"Oh, dear," said Emma. "You'll have to stop by the house, sometime. Your nightgown has some rips to sew up." She poked a finger through one of the infamous slots that Harry had installed.

"Oh, those," said Hermione, preparing to share one of her favorite stories. "They're for..." She stopped. They weren't for anything, anymore. Hermione didn't cry but looked down and retreated into silent depression.

"I'm sorry," said Emma. She looked at her daughter with sympathy. "So much will be different now."

"I know," said Hermione. "I know we were only married a little over two months but it seems like we've always slept together. I was completely exhausted last night or I wouldn't have been able to sleep, I'm sure. Tonight..." She broke off, again.

"Tonight can look after itself," said Emma. "Let's get you dressed in time for breakfast."

"I'm not looking forward to _that_," stated Hermione, emphatically. "I don't know what I was thinking." Hermione, in a fit excessive dutifulness, had declared her intentions to make the major announcements of Harry's passing personally. That had not gone so well with the Weasleys and she was pretty sure that informing the entire student body, along with the staff, would go no better. A thought crossed her mind.

"Oh, no," she said, aloud. "Hagrid might be there." Hagrid, perhaps the most emotionally unstable giant in history, would not take the news of Harry's death stoically; that much was sure. How much time did she have? Hermione consulted her watch. Not enough.

"Mum," she said. "If a giant, weeping man makes an attempt to crush me; please stand aside. I don't think he'll hurt me, at least not on purpose, but there won't be any stopping him."

"My goodness," said Emma, stereotypically putting her hand to her mouth. "Is he dangerous?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "The more he likes you, the more dangerous he becomes." She smiled to herself. Looking at her mother, she added, reassuringly, "Don't worry about me. Just make sure Dad doesn't step in. Hagrid's an old friend of both Harry and me. If I'd been thinking clearer, I'd have gone to see him, already."

"I'm sure everyone will be shocked," said Emma. "That's only natural." She looked at her daughter to ask, once more, "Are you sure you wish to do this? Someone else can..."

"Someone else could," agreed Hermione, "but Harry's my husband. It's my responsibility." She picked up her robes, laid out for her by Winky and smiled. "At least my clothes are already the right color." Hogwarts standard was, except for the ties, of course, deepest black.

* * *

Hermione walked down the narrow, empty hallway, one parent just behind and on either side. The antechamber to which this passage led was seldom used by students but it served the Head Girl well this morning. This was the first part of the plan. She would arrive during the middle of breakfast with her parents for support, both before and after. McGonagall would announce that something important had happened and direct the students to listen to Hermione. From the dais, Hermione could give her notification and leave through the same route without having to deal with the aftermath. McGonagall would have that job. Ordinarily, if anything of this nature could be termed that way, Ron would be standing with her. He had his own problems, right now, and along with Ginny and Honey, he remained at the Burrow. For many of the Weasleys, Harry was like a brother and son. They would spend the day comforting each other and adjusting in their own way.

As the clock bell struck the half-hour, Hermione reached the doorway. She gave just one knock to inform the Headmistress that the time had come. It was unknowable whether the elder witch would be able to hear it since a fairly feisty storm had blown in off the North Sea during the night. As Hermione's family waited, the quieting of the Great Hall would seem to indicate that Minerva had heard the signal. Before she was ready, the door opened before her and it was time. McGonagall's sad face tried a brave smile before backing out of her way.

Hermione walked briskly to the front of the platform. She tried not to look anywhere but to her relief she did manage to notice that Hagrid wasn't going to be in play, this morning. The storm, no doubt, would cause him to see to more important items than breakfast. Just as well.

"Good morning," she began, out of habit, "I'm afraid I have some, ah, bad news. You see, er, I mean most of you know that Harry has been working against Voldemort for quite..."

A unison gasp rose from the non-Gryffindors as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was named. Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust and continued. "Anyway, during a mission, something went wrong and Harry's... Harry's..." It was hard to say, especially now that the tears had started again.

"Is he dead?" asked someone from the ranks of the students. The question was asked as if inquiring whether a seat were taken.

"Yes," said Hermione, automatically. "He..."

"Well," said the voice, jovially, "I thought you said it was _bad_ news."

Hermione's head snapped up just as all the windows in the Great Hall exploded in a psychedelic shower of glass shards, backlit spectacularly as an accommodatingly coincidental bolt of lightning hit the bell tower. The thunderclap made it momentarily difficult for bystanders to tell if her wand, now drawn and pointed directly at Zabini, had already been used or would be used, very, very soon.

The announcement of the death of Harry Potter; an event that would normally be imbedded in the collective memory of all students and staff present; was temporarily pushed aside as they waited to see if Hermione would kill Zabini outright or if she wanted to play with him first.

The wind from the storm twirling her hair in uncontrollable abandon, Hermione released the first phase of her attack. "Levicorpus!" she spake as a pale blue streak of light struck the unfortunate exemplar of all her pain and fury. Instantly, Blaise was hoisted into the air and dangled upside-down above his classmates.

Zabini, still not yet realizing that he was outmatched by both Potters and not just Harry, quickly struggled to pull his wand out of his pocket. He no more than had it most of the way clear of his robes when an Expelliarmus had taken it from him.

The wand flew not to Hermione, but to Headmistress McGonagall. Grabbing it deftly out of the air, she turned to Hermione, smiling, and instructed, "Just make it quick and painless, my dear." She sat back into her chair.

Hermione, momentarily shaken back into sanity by the assistance and comment, smiled grimly and replied, "I'll let you pick one or the other."

McGonagall thought for a second before saying, "Painless, I guess." She turned to watch as Zabini looked on in shocked silence.

Hermione nodded and immediately hoisted her victim to near the ceiling and out one of the north windows. This gave Zabini a fantastic view of the jagged rocks some two hundred feet below by the surf pounded shoreline.

"Wait!" he shouted, but it was too late. Hermione released the spell and Blaise fell to his doom. Scores of screams left the lips of the assembly watching but Hermione recast the spell, barely in time as it turned out, to catch him just before he passed from sight. It didn't stop him from squealing the most girlish shriek of his life.

Hermione brought the idiot back through the window and let him drop the five feet to the floor with a thump. She then said, "As I was saying, Harry died. I won't be answering any questions and most of you probably won't be seeing me for a while. Thank you." She quickly turned and, with her extremely shocked parents parting to let her pass, she left the way she had arrived.

* * *

It turned out to have been a good idea for Hermione to leave. Headmistress McGonagall, first taking a moment to repair the shattered windows, had taken over and proceeded to inform the students that since such a popular and well known student as Harry had died, it would only be natural for them be upset and confused. As such, the Great Hall would be used for the students and staff to help each other resolve their feelings and come to grips with reality. She also noted that since the memorial service was planned for Tuesday morning, classes would be suspended and any students wishing to attend would be provided with floo service to and from. When an unusually dim-witted Slytherin commented that Harry wasn't all bad since he had gotten them a day off, a general, and rather lopsided melee broke out with the students known for cooperation, intelligence and courage against those known, ironically enough, for cunning. It didn't last long.

When Hermione left the Great Hall, her mental state, thrown off course by Zabini's attempted suicide, didn't return to the near normal acceptance that she had managed to acquire. Instead, she entered into a special type of magic reserved for those left behind. She was being sucked down a vortex of ever increasing speed. It wasn't distance that was rushing by, though; it was time. Not remembering the trip back, she found herself sitting in her suite writing Harry's obituary. Her parents sat with her and offered encouragement but she remembered nothing of it. A blink later, she was talking with Barnabus Cuffe. He wanted more information than she was willing to give, of course, but promised, in the end, to keep any speculation out of the Monday and Tuesday editions of the Prophet. Beyond that, of course, anything was fair game. Her meeting with Hagrid was an amalgam of tears, hugs and gasps for air.

Almost before she knew it, Monday morning had come and the paper was in her hand. The headline read "POTTER DIES!" She set it down to eat lunch and was sipping her afternoon tea just before bed. It was dark for a bit and then light when someone, she noticed, had begun to gently shake her.

"Hermione!" said the voice, "it's time. You need to be here for this." Hermione dropped out of her time warp and beheld the face of Luna. Luna had moved her hand from Hermione's shoulder to her face. She was captured by the blue eyes of the young witch that somehow ripped her back to the present. "Hermione. You need to be the witness for Harry. It's time."

The spell was broken and Hermione was once again in normal time. She was seated in a short row of chairs set up in the square outside the Diagon Alley entrance to the Ministry of Magic. There were many such chairs but the rest were somewhat removed from this row and facing towards it. Off to the side of her, a platform had been constructed with a podium at the front. Three steps led up to the speaker's position. Hermione was flanked by her parents; Dan on her left and Emma on her right. Headmistress McGonagall and Minister Scrimgeour rounded out the group.

The audience, or mourners as she decided they would more properly be called, had filled about half of the chairs set out with many more arriving every minute. The front row consisted mainly of assorted Weasleys. Ron sat on a bench placed there for his purposes. He had asked Hermione if she wanted him to sit with her. She was in her blank state, though, and had unknowingly and automatically refused this offer of personal comfort as she had done to all others. Ron had become used to her aloofness during the course of the last couple of days and had accepted her decision with grace. Greta sat crying with Molly, who had taken quite a liking to the young girl.

The Dursleys were, surprisingly, also there. Uncle Vernon, of course, looked out of place and uncomfortable but had managed to put on his good suit for the occasion. Aunt Petunia, oddly enough, looked the part of someone who actually had cared if Harry lived or died. Remus and Tonks, Oliver and Martha, Poppy and Triffle, and the rest of the Hogwarts staff rounded out the row. Hagrid, thoughtfully, thought Hermione, had removed himself to the side so as not to block the view from those unfortunate enough to sit behind him.

The remaining chairs were open to the public. Hermione recognized most of the students, of course, including Luna who had seen from a distance that she had needed her assistance. Draco sat with her, of course. Most of the Gryffindors were there as well as quite a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Of the Slytherins, she only recognized Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson. Tracey had always been the friendliest of the Slytherins in their year although Pansy had been okay since the train wreck. No Slytherin boys had come, as far as she could tell.

Hearing some weeping that sounded familiar, she looked a short distance off to her left and saw Winky and Slinky standing nearly out of view but still within sight of the services. This brought the other elves to mind and, sure enough, if you looked carefully, you could see eight small shapes in red robes discretely monitoring the crowd. The auror presence was also noticeable; not unusual when the Minister was speaking in public. Mad-eye and a few other members she recognized from the Order of the Phoenix were also in positions that lent themselves to repel any trouble that may come along.

At the appropriate time, Rufus rose and, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder as he passed, climbed to stand at the podium. He lay a scroll on the sloped surface and tapped it with his wand. It unrolled and no longer seemed to be affected by the slightly chill breeze.

Rufus paused a moment with eyes closed before he took a breath and began. "My friends," he intoned, "If you've gathered here today to hear the eulogy of a great man; a historic man; a hero to us all; then I'm afraid I'll disappoint you. Harry Potter was, of course, all of those things, but there will be enough written about his exploits in the next few days and weeks to satisfy even the most die-hard fans, I think. No, I wish to take the time allotted to me to talk about Harry; the young wizard I've come to know these last several weeks. That's the man I'll remember and the man I'll miss."

He paused for a moment and Hermione was able to hear Winky, sobbing quietly. Looking at her, she noticed the elf holding her head in her hands, tears hitting the ground. Unable, it seems, to be able to stand it, she wailed, "Master!" and ran off down the empty end of the alley, Slinky running behind.

Rufus took a moment to take a sip of water. Continuing, he said, "I had met Harry, off and on, a few times since taking the office of Minister of Magic. I'll admit that we didn't get on very well at first. I underestimated him and he didn't trust me. Fortunately, that didn't remain the case and during this last summer, we were able to begin to work together. The first such occurrence was during the well publicized trap which led to the capture of twenty-six Death Eaters and the deaths of several more, including the notorious Lucius Malfoy." Rufus looked up involuntarily at Dougal and Luna as he said this. It hadn't occurred to him while writing the speech that the son of the man he had referenced would be in the audience. Luna grasped Dougal's arm a bit tighter and it seemed to comfort the young man so Rufus went on. "After that, the next time I met Harry was to award him the first of what I assumed would be several Order of Merlin medals. You'll all recall that this was mainly in recognition of his saving a few hundred students on the Hogwarts Express. He and his wife had also stopped a Death Eater attack at Hogsmeade earlier in the year, during their wedding, but that also is well known. I mention all of this not to remind you of his valor, but to enlighten you of his humility. He wasn't interested in medals. In fact, I was informed that he wouldn't accept it unless those he deemed equally worthy were at least also recognized along with him. One of these was a house-elf by the name of Dobby." Some muttering rose from the crowd as many didn't want to soil the memorial service of the Great Harry Potter with the mention of mere slaves. "I believe his wisdom in honoring his servant was well founded. Less than a month later, this same house-elf joined him in attacking He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named to save Minerva McGonagall. Dobby fell but Minerva was saved. Again, Harry didn't rush in where angels feared to tread to prove his courage or to earn medals, but out of love of his friends. This love was the secret to Harry Potter. It was what made him special. Others here today will speak of how it affected them, but for me, his love of Minerva led directly to the restoration of my own spirit. That's how it works when it's done right. Your love spills over into another person and from them to the next. Minerva and I have basked in the glow of the love Harry gave to her when he saved and restored her. It has bound us to each other and to him in a way that was not severed when he died but will live on in those who remember him. I will not say this isn't a time for tears over he who was lost, but I will forever be grateful that, for a time, I felt in him something that I never thought I'd feel again; a father's pride in a child's accomplishments. The understanding of someone who's been there and done that, just as you have. The forgiveness of someone who knows that no one's perfect and we are all capable of changing. This is the Harry Potter I knew."

Hermione sat listening to Rufus. His speech would be perceived by many, she knew, as an attempt to attach his name to the legends that would surely spring around Harry. He was, in fact, saying some of the same things that she had expected from some of the 'blowhards' that she had threatened to blast during this service. Rufus, though, was different. She knew that he was speaking from the heart. He had come to know and love Harry. He would miss him. She smiled as she thought that the same would be true of Harry if the roles were reversed.

She tuned back in as Rufus was finishing up his part of the ceremony. He concluded with, "Now, a few others wished to speak. They all have stories which illuminate the Harry that we knew. The Harry that was hidden from the world. We'll start with the one who was given the most by Harry. It's your turn, Remus."

Remus walked up to the platform and climbed the steps. Rufus gave him some brief instructions while pointing to the scroll that remained on the podium. Remus nodded and Rufus returned to his seat next to Minerva.

"The Minister of Magic was not exaggerating," began Remus. "I was the one who received the greatest gift from Harry Potter. I don't believe any of you here today will be able to understand why, but those of my former brethren reading this will truly be aware. It's not much of a secret that I was a werewolf. There is no lower form of outcast in the wizarding world. I know this to be true from decades of experience dealing with the discrimination and monthly suffering that this affliction brings upon itself. You never get used to it; not quite man; not quite beast. You belong nowhere. Then, a while ago, Harry came to me and said he knew how to cure me. It took two goes. The first was safe for Harry but didn't work. The second placed him in grave danger. He could have died or been turned but neither fate deterred him. I'm sorry to admit that I wasn't able to turn down the chance but it worked. A werewolf, I am, no longer."

A gasp rose from the crowd and one elderly witch shouted out, not in condemnation, but disbelief, "But that's impossible."

Remus smiled. "You'd be surprised what's not impossible for Harry Potter. I was planning on boring you all with some anecdotes about Harry, but from the list Rufus prepared," he indicated the parchment, "I'll turn it over to the next in line. She also has some information that I'm sure will astound you. Poppy?" He motioned for the nurse to come up. Remus passed her on the way back to Tonks and Poppy took her turn.

Poppy then informed everyone that it was Harry, not she, who had replaced all of the limbs. She added that she was glad they had helped so many but sad that the few still scheduled for treatment wouldn't be able to be helped.

Martha, though knowingly taking a chance by bringing attention to herself, nevertheless wanted to acknowledge her gratitude that Harry, after rescuing her and the two sisters, also took it upon himself to see to it that they would receive treatment, clothing and shelter along with the resources to recover at their own pace after their horrible ordeal. That he wished to keep such generosity secret, she concluded, spoke volumes about his character.

Ron floated up and had some notes written down but, now that it came to it, he couldn't read them through his tears. All that was intelligible were a few comments about how it was odd that with so many brothers left, he was unable to speak about the loss of this one. As he fluttered down to rejoin Honey, it was Hermione's turn.

Hermione's legs refused, at first, to cooperate. Dan, seeing this, rose to his feet and offered her his hand. Taking it, she stood and, with a hug for her father, she climbed the stairs as if they led up a scaffold. She tried to gather her thoughts together but was distracted as she noticed the red robed members of the Hogwarts Free Elves spreading out and turning this way and that as Jumper pulled on the robes of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Mad-eye had risen from his seat and pulled his wand. Kingsley bent over to listen for a moment before standing upright and also pulled his wand. He spun around once before taking two steps towards Rufus when...

* * *

"Take cover!" shouted Mad-eye. He cast a pale violet beam at an empty spot near the corner of a building just before a Death Eater ran into the beam and collapsed. Five others were behind him, though and more were on the way. From several directions, swarms of Death Eaters burst upon the unsuspecting mourners. A purple flame shot at Hermione from just twenty feet away. She was too shocked to move and would have died right there if not for the quick reflexes of Jack Dawlish who threw himself into her, flinging the both of them to the ground, feet below. Dawlish rolled over twice before springing to his feet, wand in hand, as he cast first one and then another spell at the first available Death Eaters.

Everyone scattered. Screaming in fear, most of the Hogwarts students fled south as their natural inclination would be to stay together. Many Death Eaters tried to follow but a row of Gryffindor upperclassmen barred the way. On the end, deflecting a hail of curses, stood Dougal and Luna. Dougal, in between incantations, kept begging Luna to flee. Luna, being an honorary Gryffindor, had no such ambitions and calmly cast shield after shield. Giving up on changing her mind, Dougal decided to change the odds. Being the son of Lucius Malfoy, he had a few less than reputable curses up his sleeve and, deciding that he had better start using them, started to use them. The first Death Eater he hit dropped his wand in agony as his skin caught on fire. The next was less fortunate, having the same fate as Dobby.

Mad-eye, having had the long-standing opinion that dying in battle was the only way for a warrior to go, plunged headlong into a large group of particularly nasty looking Death Eaters. Whether by chance or design, the combination of his now blood and flesh covered staff and his electric blue eye caused each Death Eater that he singled out to pause for an unfortunate split second. That was all that Mad-eye needed. When he had finished four of the Death Eaters, he felt justified in turning his attention to tactical realities. He quickly joined the Gryffindores and Hogwarts professors and helped them make a coordinated retreat.

Rufus, Minerva and most of the front row managed to make it to the Ministry. That was, of course, one of the main areas targeted by Voldemort during this attack but there were enough aurors and elves to make this entrance available and defensible, for a time. For a combined attack, of course, they would need more time to shut down all of the points of entry. Rufus sent word with Arthur and Percy to do just that. The Weasley men knew the Ministry well enough to reach all sections within just a few minutes.

Hermione had recovered quickly and, having both of her parents; muggles at that, with her, knew that she had to get them someplace safe before she could join in the fight. The Ministry was now blocked so she looked around. The way to Gringotts was fairly open. "This way," she called, grabbing Emma's hand and running down the alley. A few well placed shields and disillusionment charms helped them on their way and within thirty seconds, they burst through the doors. Several people followed them through.

"Stay here!" shouted Hermione as she prepared to run back outside. Before she could do so, the transparent security doors of the bank slammed shut. A few slower witches and children banged on the outside of the barrier; their cries somewhat muted by the material.

"Open the doors!" ordered Hermione. She tried to pull on them, but there were no handles.

"No," said Ragnok, coming up from behind her. "We are safe in here."

"What about them?" asked Hermione, frantically. One witch was slammed into the doors as a spell hit her from behind. Whether dead or stunned, it was impossible to tell.

"The security of the bank is paramount. The doors stay shut!" said Ragnok, finally. He then left to tend to the other security issues of his bank. Hermione watched helplessly as those seeking refuge caught the drift and began to run further down the street. Hermione saw two more fall; a man and a girl. She turned back inside in fury.

Hagrid, in case anyone was wondering, had joined the other professors and provided cover as the lower years fled to safety. Not that he didn't get to wreak some havoc of his own. A narrow alley between two old buildings was a clever hiding place where six Death Eaters waited to attack any of the retreating populace. Hagrid happened to be two steps away when they decided to spring their trap. Resistant to most forms of magic, Hagrid ran in behind the Death Eaters and chased them through to the far street. As he emerged first, their fate was sealed. Some of the students had followed him but most had taken refuge in the shops along the way; the entrances each protected by a professor and a few upperclassmen. All floos had been shut down, of course, and it became apparent that apparition was also disrupted, somehow. All anyone could do was hide and wait.

Jumper and his crew, not having yet replaced the master Weasley ball formerly held by Slider, had only their skill and power to help them. Immediately splitting his forces into two groups of four, Jumper had aided in the retreat of the Headmistress and Minister, along with the Weasleys and others near the front while Tripper had joined the Gryffindors in providing cover for those heading to the south. They didn't know it, but they were all marked elves. Any elf, especially those in red, were, by the direct order of Lord Voldemort, the primary target. Curley wasn't aware of this, of course, but found out fairly quickly. Two Death Eaters had chosen to target him and he was having enough trouble dealing with them that he had called for help. Unfortunately, so had the Death Eaters. With a cry of 'Elf, here!', two more Death Eaters had joined them. Curley relayed this information to Jumper just before he was hit with a series of destructive spells that cruelly ended his life. Jumper recognized that the jig was up, as far as remaining societally invisible was concerned, and ordered his remaining troops to remain hidden while trying to assist in the retreat of anyone they could help.

A café in the southwest corner of the square had the fortunate configuration of having two entrances with no nearby cross street. A few families tried to use that fact to get far away quickly without having to worry about being flanked. That only works a short time, of course, and several Death Eaters quickly converged to shut down their escape. A violently red beam struck a wizard as he tried to guide his wife and two young children through the door. It nearly cut him in two. His wife, forgetting her children for a moment, grabbed his dead head and shoulders in her arms and wailed in disbelief. From behind her, Dougal pulled her up and shoved her towards the door.

"Take your children!" he shouted, casting a bludgeoning charm at a pair of the nearest Death Eaters, throwing them into those behind. "Luna, help her!" He grabbed the dead wizard's wand and alternated between the two, effectively doubling his rate of fire.

Luna grabbed the eldest child, perhaps five, by the hand and pulled her along while calling to her mother, "Hurry up. There isn't much time." The woman, brought to her more immediate duty to save her children, left her husband and carried her young son to safety.

Dougal was fighting like a man possessed. Several families scurried to safety behind him as he peppered the area with curse after curse. The spells were not diminishing in power, for some reason, but got stronger and stronger.

"Hurry, Dougal!" shouted Luna from far inside. "We're all through."

"I'm on..." started Dougal but he was hit in the leg and his femur was shattered. Falling to the ground, he cast more spells over his legs. The Death Eaters were sprinting towards him now and he only had a few seconds. Reaching over his head with both wands, he shouted, "Incendio!" with all his strength. The café burst into flames, effectively blocking the way for the Death Eaters. It cut off his escape route, as well, but he wasn't going anywhere and he knew it.

By this time, most of the aurors, elves, students and other civilians had managed to take what cover they could. That, or they were dead or wounded on the street. A small group, seemingly made of average citizens; witch and wizard; old and young; was herded off against a long, blank side of the Ministry; their fate or use unknown. The Death Eaters had stopped their attacks and established a perimeter around the main square. From out of the sky, a dozen new Death Eaters descended on brooms. In their midst rode Lord Voldemort, himself. He looked around at the carnage and was pleased.

"Magnificent," he said, basking in the glow of success. "A few shall not behold the dawning of my rule, I see," he said, gesturing at the bodies strewn across the pavement, "but enough remain to do my bidding, forever." He took a moment to walk among the dead before calling out, "Severus."

"Yes, Master," replied Snape. He was nearby but still took a step closer, regardless.

"I don't see any of our special guests. Let's take attendance and see where the chips have fallen," ordered Voldemort. He conjured an iron chair; more akin to a throne, actually, and sat down to wait.

Snape withdrew a parchment from his robes; one that was similar to the one he had used in the home of Umbridge, but with a better range. He handed a bottle of ink to Wendall Jones, his newest second, and wrote a short sentence. After a moment, he began to write some information onto a second parchment that overlaid the first. When he was finished, he moved on; stopping a short time to make more notes before proceeding from building to building. A phalanx of Death Eaters provided cover for this exercise. Not surprisingly, no fire erupted from any of the strongholds lest the occupants that were observing this display of paperwork might find themselves specifically singled out for retaliation.

While this was happening, Voldemort spun slowly around in his chair. He was personally taking stock of the area and noting the locations of the most resistant buildings. As the continued burning of the café would no doubt draw the attention of muggle authorities, he ordered that the fire be extinguished. The rubble was deemed to be unstable by those who checked inside and it was given no more consideration. All in all, three brick and mortar shops, Gringotts and the Ministry, itself, were the only close buildings that could prove difficult to overcome.

Raising his arms above his head, the Dark Lord's wand glowed a deepening red as it was swept in a circle; over and over. He closed his eyes in concentration as sparks and smoke seemed to peel off in layers. He repeated his actions ceaselessly, as Snape made his rounds.

* * *

"What's he doing?" asked Rufus to no one in particular. He was watching Snape make his circuit around the courtyard.

Minerva peered out the slit window to observe for herself. "It looks like he's sitting in a large chair with his hands up," she replied.

"Not Voldemort," said Rufus, dismissively. "That ugly git with the two parchments. Snape."

"Oh," said Minerva. "Him. Well, he seems to be taking some sort of inventory. It looks like he's checking one of the parchments against the other."

"They've picked an odd time to do paperwork," said Tonks. "There's nothing to count, anyway. He just stands in front of one building for a bit and moves on."

Remus and Ron both looked at each other and ran to a window. Well, Remus ran and Ron floated but the intention was the same. "They've got a map," said Ron after a moment's observation. Remus nodded almost immediately.

"A map?" asked Rufus. "Like the ones you use?"

"It looks more like the old ones we gave you, Minister," answered Ron. "If he had one of our good ones, he could do all the buildings from the center of the square."

"Do the buildings?" asked Minerva. "What do you mean?"

"He's recording who's where," said Remus. "Then, he'll start collecting the people he wants the most."

"Such as the Minister," said Shacklebolt.

"Yes," agreed Rufus. "And Hermione, Ron," he continued looking around, "perhaps Minerva, any aurors."

"The Weasleys," added Remus. "They've been pretty effective against him. They know about Tonks, as well."

"Mad-eye, if he's still alive," added Rufus. "There's a reason he looks the way he does and is still alive."

"I'd imagine that anyone he perceives as a threat will be eliminated," said Ron. "With Harry gone, a lot of us will move up a notch or two."

"With Harry gone," said Rufus, "He probably decided that no one could stop him and now was the time." He looked around despondently. "He's probably right." They all fell silent at this pronouncement and went back to their silent watch.

* * *

After a little over an hour, Snape returned to Voldemort with two scrolls in addition to the map. He handed the list to his master and placed the other parchment back inside his robes. It was now only a little after noon but the sky had darkened considerably. Voldemort's earlier efforts had paid off. The clouds had moved in and his new allies would be able to join him.

Voldemort perused the lists. So many enemies. All at his mercy. He laughed at the joke. He read a little further before exclaiming, "There she is. The one who shall be first." He rose from his chair and strode off.

"He's coming this way," shrieked a witch holding onto her two, young children. She scurried off with them to the entranceway to the rail carts. Goblins blocked her from going further, as they had all others.

Hermione walked casually over to the security doors and glanced out. Ragnok had assured her that the bank was secure and the doors were sufficient protection, even from Voldemort. At the time, she was looking to get out, not keep anyone from getting in. Now, however, it would be Voldemort's turn to be frustrated by the stubbornness of goblins. She smiled, grimly.

When Voldemort stood before the bank, he halted his progress and placed his wand to his throat. Uttering the amplification spell, he called out, "This Is Your New Master. I Am Lord Voldemort. The Chosen One Has Fallen And There Are None Left To Withstand Me. You're In My World Now. You're Only Hope Is To Please Me. As This Is The First Day Of My Eternal Reign, I'll Keep It Simple. Send Out The Widow. It Is Time She Joined Her Husband."

Most of those in the bank were confused. Who was he talking about? Hermione, however, had her blood freeze solid. She was The Widow. The Widow Must Die. It was her death that was foretold. The prophecy was about to be fulfilled.

"Send Out Potter's Widow," repeated Voldemort. "You Have One Minute."

"Have no fear, Mrs. Potter," said Ragnok. "He knows better than to try to attack this bank."

"He's no fool," said Hermione. "He's up to something."

The minute passed in a matter of seconds; sixty, in fact, and Voldemort spoke again. "Potter's Mudblood Is Afraid, I See. No Matter. Bring The Substitute."

A wizard, perhaps in his early forties or maybe a bit older, was led from the group of prisoners. He didn't know what was going to happened but doubted it would be good. When he reached Voldemort, he was forced to his knees.

Voldemort didn't look at him but instead pointed his wand in the air and intoned, "Morsmordre." A streak or green flew up and burst into the Dark Mark. The skull of Voldemort now hung low over Diagon Alley. Those inclined to fear at a mere apparition were terrified. Those with long years of experience fighting Voldemort were disheartened. The one who's death he sought was unmoved.

"Is that all you've got, Tom?" she shouted towards his ugly face. "Why I've ..."

"Silence!" shouted Voldemort. "It Is No Longer Your Turn. Allow The Victim Time To Savor His Fate." He waved his hand dramatically over his head as dark shapes began to descend from the clouds. The twisting, tattered robes and sudden chill in the air could mean only one thing; dementors. Hundreds, it seemed, wove their way through the air, sometimes swooping low but never touching the ground. None, that is, except for one which landed next to Voldemort's entourage.

"No!" shouted Hermione, discerning what was to happen. "I'll come. I'll come."

"Sorry," said Voldemort. "You Had Your Chance. Perhaps Later, I'll Give You Another Offer." He turned his back on the bank and whispered something to the near dementor. It nodded and moved in, standing at last in front of the petrified wizard.

"No!" he managed to shout. Just the once. His lips moved and his eyes were wide in terror but he had spoken his last word. Circling around him, taking a breath from his lips at each pass, the dementor began to suck the life out of the poor man. Hermione's screams weren't noticed, it seemed, as his ability to resist quickly faded. Finally, the dementor lowered it's hood and administered the kiss; robbing the wizard of his soul and rendering him worse than dead.

Hermione had sunk to the threshold of the doors; her hands covering her eyes in shock and despair. She couldn't believe what had happened. That poor man was destroyed because she hadn't surrendered. How could she live with herself? Before she could control herself, a body was thrown on the steps in front of her. It was the wizards she had just seen kissed. His almost lifeless eyes gazing at her. Voldemort tapped on the door.

"I'll let you think about this for a few minutes," he said. "We'll see if you have a change of heart." He walked back down the steps.

"You bastard!" shouted Hermione. "You bloody bastard. I'll see you in Hell!"

Voldemort laughed in his high-pitched way as he went to pick out the next victim.

* * *

Whether a minute had passed, or a day; she could not tell. Hermione only knew that no one else would take her place. Voldemort had won. It would be this way for everyone on his list. Anyone with the power and courage to oppose him wouldn't let someone else die in their place. When Voldemort returned, she would go out and accept her fate. So would Rufus. So would Ron. None of them had any choice. She would, however, not go like a lamb. She had her wand, yet. When they pried it from her cold, dead fingers, they could do what they wanted with her body.

"Send Out The Widow!" called the amplified voice of Voldemort, once again. Hermione looked up and was shocked upright when she saw a seven or eight year old girl standing next to the Dark Lord. The dementor was already standing next to her. Off in the distance, if you listened carefully through the thick security doors, you could hear her mother screaming for her daughter.

"Open these doors!" shouted Hermione.

"Mrs. Potter," said Ragnok. "I can not allow..."

"Open these bloody doors or so help me I'll blast them off," stated Hermione, quickly but forcefully.

"You Have Ten Seconds," said Voldemort.

"Very well," said Ragnok. He waved his hands and the doors opened. "Farewell, Mrs. Potter," he added, sadly.

Hermione stepped out the door. The sun, now low in the late autumn sky, cast a beam on her face from below the clouds. She turned and smiled at it as something, perhaps the sea air, was revealed to her. Her demeanor changed abruptly. "You think you've won," she shouted, wild-eyed. "You think you're safe. I tell you that you will rue this day for the rest of your miserable life. I, however, will cherish it; for on this day, I will finally be where I belong. Soon, I'll be with my husband." With that, Hermione Potter charged towards the Dark Lord, her wand blazing curses as she ran down the steps.


	81. Chapter 81

Chapter 81 - Wow! That was a Close One.

November 4, 1997

Hermione, the smartest witch in a generation, laid it all on the line that she would choose her spells, and their order, absolutely correctly. She guessed she had to keep Voldemort and his cronies busy for at least fifteen seconds but not longer than twenty. Picking her first target, she let loose with a massive bludgeoning charm at Snape followed by a starburst. Before that even hit, she began her patronus charm. There would be no doubt on her choice of a happy thought; she would never in her life be happier than she was at this moment.

Snape, an excellent duelist, any day of the week, cast a shield charm that should have taken care of anything the mudblood could conjure. He was more than familiar with her abilities, after all. What he was unaware of, though, were her practice sessions over the summer with Harry. She had always been too logically minded to fully believe that just feeling love for someone would add to her spell power and was never able to utilize such an emotional enhancement. Of course, that was then; this is now. When the spell reached Snape's shield, it blasted straight through and propelled the git twenty feet backwards and nearly out of his boots. At the moment of impact, an intense flash temporarily blinded everyone.

Voldemort wasn't expecting this, of course, and pulled his own wand. When he turned back to face the witch, he was just in time to see some sort of a small, but apparently powerful patronus slamming into the dementor on his other side. The dementor that was attacked shrieked in pain while those circling above rose to greater heights. Hidden within their cries, though, he could hear the strangest sound. It was almost as if somewhere an orchestra was playing music. This distracted him just enough that he didn't notice Hermione running low in the wake of her own patronus.

When Hermione reached the far side of Voldemort, she cast a pair of incendio spells at the robes of two of his bodyguards. Their distress at finding themselves on fire gave her the opportunity to hoist up the girl and sprint back towards the bank. She hadn't taken three strides, unfortunately, before Voldemort had her in his sights.

"Avada Kedavra," he incanted as a green streak flew across the intervening space and straight towards Hermione and the child. Before it got to them, though, Jumper had revealed himself and raised his hand towards them, pushing them roughly to the side, but away from danger. The killing spell impacted harmlessly against the steps of Gringotts. Jumper then engaged with Voldemort, but at a distance. He, like Hermione, knew that he didn't need to win; just survive.

"Kill the elf!" ordered Voldemort, struggling with Jumper. "Stop the mudblood." His men, though loyal, were more interested in putting out or removing their burning robes at the moment and so were not able to assist him.

Hermione, having regained her feet, listened in ecstatic euphoria as the music grew louder and louder as she ran up the steps, dragging the little girl behind her. One thing caught her attention, however. The pitch of the fanfare was rising too quickly. It could only be caused by one thing and she knew what a Doppler Shift of that magnitude would mean.

"Hit the deck!" she cried as she burst through the doors. She sprinted past her parents and threw the girl bodily over the counter as she sprang over herself. Seeing how committed she was to this course of action, most of the others in the bank found some cover of their own. When the music reached its peak, a large gold and red shape, a blur, actually, flew by. For a moment, the doors and windows bowed inward before the suction of an eighty ton dragon flying by at two hundred and fifty miles per hour took hold and the windows and doors, casings and all, were torn off and hurled into the alley. Harry Potter had returned!

* * *

Voldemort recognized the animangus form, of course, and had begun to raise his wand when the full gravity of his situation hit him. Not wishing for Harry to do the same, and having no time to fumble in his pockets for his emergency portkey, he ran for cover. Gringotts was closest. He had just made the steps as Harry flew over his singed guards at a keel depth of around four feet. They were swept away, of course, and Voldemort felt the slight push of the leading edge of Harry's air dam just before physics took over and he was flung backwards as if a giant had snatched him away. He was fortunate that his back was towards the bank at the moment the shards of the doors caught up to him, but he didn't fully appreciate his good luck as he was currently upside down and spinning wildly.

Snape had regained his footing from the spell that Hermione had cast and looked up just in time to see a red blur fly by followed shortly by his Master and a cloud of debris coming his way. The Dark Lord wasn't on a collision course with him but he figured it wouldn't be a good thing in any event. He covered his head with his robes but the residual glass was less destructive at this distance and he wasn't in any serious danger. Hoping his boss was either completely unhurt or unconscious, he trotted over to check on him.

"Potter," moaned Voldemort. He was laying face down on the pavement but the numerous cuts in his robes as well as more than a few pieces of glass that were large enough to be sticking out indicated that it would be impossible for him to turn over.

"Take my arm, Master," said Snape, throwing caution to the wind and attempting to help. Voldemort wasn't in any condition to argue and grasped Snape's right arm with both hands.

He hadn't more than stood up straight when he shouted, "Bloody Hell!" He then took two steps before diving for cover behind one of the trees planted in the square, inadvertently rolling over his back for a second time. Snape was a step behind and threw his body over Voldemort's just as the first members of the second wave flew by, spouting flame at anything that moved.

The herd had followed Harry all the way from Muck, flying in his slipstream at a rate that surpassed anything they had thought possible. About a mile out, however, Jumper had informed Winky, who rode hanging on to his scarf for balance, that Hermione was in danger. She had then informed her master of the situation. Harry had accelerated beyond the ability of the other dragons to match his pace and they were subject to the wind, again. Having arrived at the battleground, however, speed wasn't as important as accuracy. That was where the ground spotters came in.

"Some wizards is being in danger to the left, Master Dragon," said Flower. She was astride Osgar and pointed at the group of prisoners near the Ministry. "The three wizards being in dark robes is being needing to be moved." She pointed as she said this.

Osgar didn't say anything, knowing as did the rest that the enchantment was not overridden like it had been a week earlier. He did, however, know how to remove wizards. Diving in low, he skimmed the cobblestones until he was within twenty yards of the identified Death Eaters. He then puffed out a smoker, as he called it. The coolest weapon in a dragon's arsenal, it nevertheless would cook almost anything it hit. To the casual observer, though, it just looked like hot air and, unlike a fireball, most people wouldn't take drastic evasive action to avoid it. That was unfortunate because when it his the nearest Death Eater, he burst into flame, setting his two companions on fire, as well.

After Osgar had pulled up, Pounder and Windy ran forward to guide the former prisoners towards the safety of the Ministry. The rest of the remaining Hogwarts Free Elves continued to direct their elvish counterparts on the other dragons. _The Voice _could very well end up a little hoarse by the end of the day.

Snape and Voldemort regained their footing, again, and surveyed the scene. Five minutes ago, the Dark Lord was in total control. Now, his men were fleeing for their lives, many on fire as a maelstrom of dragons were weaving in and out around each other, flames bombarding the ground everywhere. Bleeding profusely and in great pain himself, Voldemort said, "Order the retreat, Severus. This day is lost. Have everyone meet at Riddle Manor." They hadn't used his original lair for some time and he didn't want to make it too easy for those interrogating any of his men who might be captured to know where to look for the rest of them.

"Yes, Master," said Snape. Voldemort took out his personal portkey and tapped it with his wand. In an instant, he had vanished. Snape looked around. He glanced up at the flurry of Hebridean Blacks before looking away towards the east. The huge shape of Dragon Harry was banking into a turn. Snape didn't see any Death Eaters. At least not any that were alive. He also didn't particularly feel like exposing himself to fire while running up and down the alley looking for any. Pulling his own portkey, he silently cast the spell for their earlier headquarters and activated the charm. He would let any of the men who survived and made it back know of the change of address from a place of safety.

* * *

Within a very short time, those Death Eaters that were still ambulatory had caught on to the current situation and had portkeyed away. The dementors had begun their slow spiral upwards, attempting, it would appear, to fly off. The battle seemed to be over and those students and citizens who had sought refuge came streaming out into the street to cheer and celebrate. Harry and the herd were making a couple of passes over the area; partly to check for any lingering dangers and partly as a victory lap. Like any good leader, Harry let his men; in this case dragons, land first. Although they were still dragons, the normal prejudices had been swept aside with many of the more joyous witches and wizards rushing up to give them hugs. Even the elves riding them, still in their Hogwarts tea towels, were hailed as heroes.

Harry made one last pass and, hovering for an additional ten seconds so that his theme song, ringing out loud and clear from the medallion that Hermione had enchanted from a suit of armor, could finish, landed, himself. Winky jumped off his shoulders a moment later. Harry looked around for Hermione or Ron when he noticed an all too familiar chill that had nothing to do with the season. The dementors, previously heading out, had been unable to resist such a massive expression of happiness. They were descending, again, desirous of some good cheer of their own, no doubt.

Harry sent out a patronus, of course, but there were hundreds of dementors spread out over several blocks and they merely avoided his stag and sought easier prey. A few other patroni engaged the dementors but not enough to do much good.

"Harry!" shouted a voice that sounded familiar. He looked for the voice and saw that Hermione was rushing towards him; her arms outstretched. He didn't have time for a hug, however, and with just a quick, "Hi, Dear," he rushed off to talk to Jumper, who he saw near Gringotts. "Jumper," he shouted, quickly, "get everyone back in the air and tell them to start incinerating the dementors. I don't know if fire will hurt them, but there's too many of them to just use patronuses." He turned to take to the air again but had time for a quick smile at Hermione, who had rushed to follow him. "Back in a moment," he said and launched himself into the air. The other dragons did the same, although they still retained their co-pilots.

It turned out that this little experiment hadn't been tried before. Common knowledge stated that only the Patronus Charm could harm or drive off a dementor. For this reason, no other spells or techniques had been tried in recent memory. The barrel-chested Finnean was the first one to have a dementor in his sights. Taking a deep breath, he produced a cone of white-hot flame that instantly vaporized the dementor's rags, revealing the partially mummified skeletal structure that was concealed beneath. Although normally a dirty beige in color, this particular dementor quickly took on the burnt toast appearance of, well, burnt toast. With a shriek that chilled the bones, it began to fall; disintegrating into nothingness as it fell.

* * *

Soon, the sky was full of flaming dementors making their final meteoric death spirals onto the cobblestone street. A particularly observant person might have caught sight of odd perturbations in the flames as the bodies burned themselves up. Only one extremely unique witch, though, knew what it meant. After the Death Eaters had been routed by Harry and the dragons, Luna Lovegood had returned to find Dougal. She sat on the cold pavement just outside the burned-out café, cradling his head in her lap. Her grief blurred her vision for a while as it is hard to perceive much through tears, but one unobscured moment, just after wiping her face with her robes, led her to discover something wonderful.

"You've done it, Dougal," she whispered to his unhearing body. "You're finally safe." She smiled, knowingly, as the tears of sorrow continued to fall. It was definitely a good news; bad news sort of moment.

Shortly thereafter, when the dementors started to fall, she sensed something else that was along the same lines. She could tell that this was a moment that transcended her personal problems and therefore she laid Dougal's head back onto the ground so she could give this new phenomenon her full attention.

Luna rose to walk about. Watching the sky, she tracked a few flaming dementors as they crashed to the ground. It didn't take her long to pick out the pattern that she had noticed. Whenever a dementor died, a rush of humanity sped towards the ground. Her inner eye could vaguely make out the figures racing away from their former prisons. Not straight down, mind you, but at an angle. Her Ravenclaw brain took a few trajectories and soon found the focal point of the various paths. It was the Ministry. From the looks of things, she determined that the final point would be several floors down. Her mind, having all of the pieces come together, guessed at the truth. She'd have to tell Harry, when she saw him. This would indeed be a great day for many families. Secure in her understanding, she returned to tend to Dougal's body.

* * *

Eventually, after fifty or more dementors had been destroyed, the rest had risen high and far enough to cause Harry to think the danger from them was past. Signaling his friends, he led them down, once again, to tumultuous applause and cheers. This time, he looked for Hermione. Seeing her standing with her parents near the Ministry, he veered over to land nearby but, needing a fairly large landing pad, he had to settle for what he could get. Hermione immediately started to push her way through the throngs to be with him.

"Hermione," he shouted over the roar of the crowd after touching down. Rushing towards her, he called out "I'm so glad..." He stopped and stared for a moment before turning to his right and embracing Rufus. "I thought you were dead," said Harry. He hugged Rufus, again.

"Harry," said Rufus, shedding a rare tear of his own. He tried to think of something else to say but just hugged Harry back.

"Harry!" shouted Molly, grabbing him for herself. "Thank God, you're alive." She was crying copious amounts of tears and didn't seem inclined to stop. "How did you get here?"

"We flew in from Muck," said Harry. "I heard that everyone was down here and that Voldemort had attacked so I gathered up my friends and we flew right down.

"Who told you about the attack?" asked Rufus.

"Winky," said Harry. "She..."

"What is Mas... Oof!"

"Arhh!" cried a voice. Whomp!

"Bloody Elf!" shouted the Founder and President of S.P.E.W.

Harry turned around to see Hermione as she tried to untangle herself from Winky and stand up. Her hands were scuffed from the fall.

"Are you okay, Her... Ow!" objected Harry. "What was that for?" He rubbed the side of his head.

"If you don't kiss me within five seconds," said Hermione, "I'll do worse than that, Potter." She put her hands on her hips.

Harry smiled broadly and, putting his arms around his wife, he gave her a kiss that, like her pseudo-sister-in-law, made her shoes fall off.

Author's note:

This wasn't the intended ending of this chapter but it gets depressing after this so I thought I'd make it a short chapter. Also, with the exception of Dougal (Yes, he's dead and will stay that way), there isn't any cliffhanger. Thought you'd all appreciate that after the past few chapters. See you next chapter.

Dad


	82. Chapter 82

Chapter 82 - Aftermath

November 4th, 1997

Hermione was in bliss. Harry was back! Harry was back! Harry was back! It was all she could think of; for the first thirty seconds, that is. Then, she remembered the people she had seen fall in the street; the woman slammed against the Gringotts blast doors; the man who had been kissed by a dementor. Slowly, she released her grip from around Harry's neck and lowered herself, still barefoot, to the ground.

"We have work to do," she said to no one in particular. Then, looking at Harry, she added, "A lot of people might still be saved. Harry can still heal some injuries that no one else can."

"Right," agreed Rufus. He looked around. Some healers from St. Mungo's had already begun to set up an area to treat minor injuries. More had spread out to find and possibly transport others that were more seriously hurt. Poppy was, of course, helping out with this. Not seeing who he was searching for, he said, "Okay. I'm going to have to find Frank Sojourn. He's the head of St. Mungo's. I'll let him know to find you if there're any survivors that he can't help. He might remember your abilities from when Ron was hurt but I'll remind him, just the same." He thought a moment. "How should he reach you if he needs you?"

"Ask any elf," said Hermione. "Any Hogwarts elf, at least. That would be the quickest."

"Brilliant, as usual," said Harry. "In the meantime, we'll check around ourselves."

"I think we all can do something," suggested Molly. She hadn't raised seven children without learning something about first aid.

And so it was that the initial jubilation over the return of Harry Potter turned into a grim afternoon and evening of sorrow and pain. With quiet understanding, the herd returned to Muck; taking with them promises of a decent party once everything was sorted out. Although some extra heat would have been nice as the night wore on, the Hebridean Blacks were a chatty bunch and those working on the aftermath of a major battle didn't need an illusory dragon attack to add to their troubles. Even so, as the herd flew up to depart, they were left with the warm glow of parting cheers from those witches and wizards who remained.

Surprisingly, the four muggles found a way to be of use. Well, to be honest, only the Grangers had inquired but their task was so simple that Petunia felt embarrassed not to offer to help, as well, and that effectively volunteered Vernon. The four of them were given armloads of chocolate and went out in pairs to identify those most affected by the dementors and treat them. Predictably, several children attempted to secure duplicate doses, just in case. Petunia and Emma, both being mothers, were able to resist their entreaties with typical feminine heartless brutality. Dan and Vernon, being men, were much more understanding.

Hermione didn't want to leave Harry's side, even though they might have been more effective working individually. Hermione seemed to have some strange affliction of her own. The cure, of course, was to give Harry a rib-cracking hug approximately every thirty seconds. She eventually had to spread that out a bit as Harry became more busy, tending to the injured. The first case that Healer Sojourn sent their way was an elderly wizard with a nasty curse wound that split his left arm along the bone. From his hand to his elbow, the arm was no longer recognizable. The healers had treated the bleeding and the pain but it would take many healing sessions and great expense to restore him to normal. From the white hair and the tattered robes, it seemed clear that he had neither the time nor money for traditional healing. After a brief consultation with the healing assistant that had brought him, they used the same spell that they used to remove the Death Eater's arms to remove his, and Harry then conjured him a new arm. After that, a witch who had been splattered with some sort of caustic potion was now blind in her damaged eye. She was so young that Harry had no trouble producing tears for her from his pity. A compress using the moisture from his tears was placed over the eye and allowed to soak in. They would check back with her later to see if more tears would be needed.

They moved on, checking here and there before hearing a cheery, "Hello, Harry. I'm so glad that you're alive."

There's no mistaking Luna's voice so Harry came back with a familiar, "Hi, Luna," before he had fully focused on her. She was still sitting with Dougal's head on her lap. Next to her, a young woman sat quietly sobbing with her own arms wrapped around her. Her husband's body lay before her. Apparently, she had found a friend to watch her children as she waited with their father for someone to give some guidance on what to do next.

"Kingsley?" shouted Harry, rushing over to the unknown couple. "But we just...," he began before realizing his mistake. He had just seen Kingsley Shacklebolt talking with Jack Dawlish a few minutes ago. The man lying on the ground was similar enough in appearance to the aurer for Harry's confusion to be understandable. Both he and Shacklebolt were large, black men in their late thirties with shaved heads. The Death Eaters had a list of people who were to be killed on sight. Kingsley Shacklebolt was on that list and this loving father of two had paid the price.

Hermione, whose name was at the top of the list, immediately went to comfort the woman while Harry checked on Luna and Dougal. Luna had lovingly smoothed out Dougal's hair and straightened his robes. His broken leg was still noticeable, though, and Harry bent down to check on it when he realized he could only sense Luna. He instinctively looked up at Dougal's face and knew.

"Luna," said Harry, shocked at her serenity, considering the circumstances. "What's happened?" He gazed at Dougal in disbelief.

While he said this, Hermione conjured a sheet with which to cover the other man. By this time, she also had gathered that Dougal had been killed. Although shocked and saddened, as well, she was standing next to someone who needed comfort and who's feelings and emotions she could understand very well. She sat next to the poor woman, offering some compassion while guiltily listening to the conversation next door.

"I'm afraid that Dougal's died," said Luna. She hadn't stopped crying but the tears seemed to be on automatic so they didn't affect her ability to talk. "I'm afraid I didn't see what happened, specifically."

"I'm so sorry," moaned out the woman next to Hermione. She had been mercifully spared the torment of having to stare at her dead husband due to Hermione's actions and had managed to consider the events of the past hour. "He... he saved me and... and our children. When Darrin and... and I were try... trying to escape, the... the Death Eaters... They shouted something and... and..." She broke down again and Hermione hugged her tighter. She didn't seem to have any more strength to continue.

"Oh," said Luna. "That much I saw. Dougal cast a spell; I think it was some sort of a banishing or bludgeoning charm, that stopped the attack for a second. He had two wands, the next time I saw him; he must have taken this man's wand, and he shouted for me to help this woman and her children." She then pointed at the burned out café behind her and continued.

"We were able to get over to Bowlen Alley through this restaurant before Dougal burned it," said Luna. "I guess his leg was broken, at some point, so he couldn't get away."

"So he set the place on fire so the Death Eaters couldn't follow," surmised Harry. He instinctively knew this since he would have done the same, given the circumstances.

"I assume so," agreed Luna. "Several people were able to get away before he did that."

Harry bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Luna," he said. It seemed so inadequate.

"I am, too, Harry," said Luna. "There is some good that came of it," she continued. "I mean, besides saving this woman and her children. And the other families, too, I guess. It seems that a lot of good came of it, now that I think of it." She smiled proudly at her slain boyfriend. "For Dougal, though... I guess we can call him Draco, now. It's not like he has to be afraid of being discovered. Anyway, for Draco, the most important thing is he had another chance to do something that had bothered him a lot. When he left Voldemort, he didn't try to take Martha with him. That continued to trouble him. He was also upset that he was too afraid to accept some sort of an offer that Professor Dumbledore had made to him before he died. Today, he overcame his fears and redeemed himself a dozen times over. I knew it the moment I looked into his eyes. His soul was restored. We'll meet again, someday, and what a joyous time that will be." She was smiling broadly now, though still weeping.

Harry didn't know what to say. Luna had found the good side of a terrible misfortune and had, in effect, comforted herself beyond anything that he could say. Taking the lead from his wife, he conjured a sheet to cover Draco's body.

Luna wouldn't allow him to cover his face before giving him a final kiss. When she had finished and stood up, she said, "I assume that when they've helped everyone that is still injured, someone will come by to let us know what to do next."

Harry nodded. As if to drive home the point that there were still people to be helped, Fuzzy, an elderly elf from the bakery section of the Hogwarts kitchens, came trotting up the walkway to fetch Harry.

"Harry Potter," said Fuzzy. "Healer Sojourn is being needing you."

"Alright," said Harry. He made eye contact with Hermione and they silently agreed that she should stay with Luna and the unknown widow. Following Fuzzy, they jogged off to help the living.

* * *

At the same time, in a side room of Riddle Manor...

"I'm sorry, Master," said Barry Selrahc. He dropped the small shard into the rapidly filling jar sitting next to the table. Picking up his wand, he said, "Episkey." One more cut was sealed. For those keeping score, it was the seventy-fifth such cut healed on the back half of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort said nothing. He had already commanded Selrahc to stop with the apologies and just get on with it. That last bit, however small it may have initially appeared, went in longitudinally and was sunk more than a half inch into his somewhat ironically thick skin. His audible, but nonverbal expression of pain had compelled his attendant to utter his latest expression of sympathy. It was suggested, at first, that perhaps Accioing them all at once might work out for the best. Voldemort told them that the first man who tried would be dead before he hit the floor.

"Snape," said Voldemort. He didn't look up.

"Yes, Master," said Snape as he reluctantly came over. Seeing a buck naked Voldemort lying face down on a transfigured breakfast table wasn't the sort of activity that he dreamt about.

"Potter has presented us with another riddle," said the Dark Lord. "There was no doubt that he was presumed to be dead. All observations of the principle people in his orbit indicated as much. Our initial success during the attack also leads me to believe that this whole memorial service extravaganza wasn't some sort of elaborate trap. No. Everyone involved was, ouch, convinced that the Chosen One was no more." Number seventy-six tinkled as it joined its brothers.

"I agree," agreed Snape. "The question is how did he manage to seemingly come back from the dead? And just in time to be the hero, once again?"

"I want answers," said Voldemort, "not questions. Have you found any suitable spies?"

"We have a recent recruit whose placement could be started, soon," said Snape. "A reasonable opportunity is all that we need."

"Begin at once," said Voldemort. He then held back a bit and added, "Take due care to make sure he isn't compromised as fast as the last one."

"Of course," said Snape. "It's a witch, by the way; not a wizard."

"A witch?" asked Voldemort.

"Yes," said Snape. "Potter was instrumental in the death of her son. Her motive for joining is revenge."

"Very good," said Voldemort. "Arrange that any, ouch, communications are absolutely undetectable. I don't want Potter to have a clue before we're able to use her."

"Yes, Master," said Snape. He left the room to make plans to begin this next assault on the resilient Harry Potter.

* * *

Later that night...

It was nearing nine o'clock when Harry, finally released from Healer Sojourn, returned to look for his wife. He started his search where he had left her. No one, neither alive nor dead, remained. He supposed that was to be expected. Ragnok had managed to remove Voldemort's anti-apparition charms by around seven-thirty so the cleanup had largely been completed. You couldn't leave bodies laying in the street. Still, he thought that Hermione would have found him once everything was sorted out as he wasn't exactly hiding. Three times, Rita Skeeter had confronted him. Twice, he had informed her that there were people who needed his help and he'd be happy to release a statement once he was finished. The last time, perhaps having been on edge from healing three pre-teen children in a row, he had blown a small fireball at her parchment, setting it on fire. She finally got the hint. For the rest of the evening, he had only run into her and her photographer randomly and she didn't intrude further, although her photographer took quite a few photos of him as he worked.

Spending a further ten minutes with nothing to show for his efforts, he had another thought and called out for Jumper.

"What can Jumper be doing for Harry Potter?" asked Jumper, a moment later.

"Right now," said Harry, "I'm just looking for Hermione. Do you know where she is?"

"Mistress Hermione is being in the office of Linus Lovegood, Harry Potter," replied Jumper.

"Oh," said Harry. He supposed that both Hermione and Linus were consoling Luna. "I'll head right over, Jumper."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper and he prepared to leave. Harry stopped him.

"Jumper," said Harry. "I just want you to know that your team, as well as the others from Hogwarts, did very well, today. The herd wouldn't have been nearly as effective without all the support on the ground as well as those riding the dragons. Give everyone a 'well done' from me, please."

"Thank you, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "Is Harry Potter being needing anything else?"

"Not tonight," said Harry. "Tomorrow, we'll all get together to tell our stories but I think everyone's pretty exhausted right now. Good night."

"Good night, Harry Potter," said Jumper and he finally popped off. Exhausted or not, he still had work to do.

* * *

Harry apparated to Linus' outer office and was met with the expected sound of weeping and consoling. He approached the door and, after gently tapping on the glass, let himself in. Besides the expected occupancy of Luna, Hermione and Linus, Harry also saw that McGonagall was present, as well. It was one of her duties as Headmistress to offer comfort and support to her students in times like these and she was doing her best. The unusual part was that she was comforting Hermione and not Luna. Luna was patting Hermione on the back but she didn't seem to be putting her heart into the effort.

"Hello, Harry," said Luna, vaguely. Harry felt the difference in her tone from what would have been considered normal for her. Naturally, the death of her boyfriend would have something to do with that but Harry thought that there might be another cause.

"Hi, Luna," he said, aloud. "What seems to be the problem with Hermione?" He chose to talk to Luna since she was the one with something to cry about. Talking to her might prompt the others to get with the program.

"She's upset that you're alive," said Luna.

"I am not," snapped Hermione, glaring at her for a moment. She quickly felt bad about it and reached out to put her hand on Luna's arm in comfort. "I'm just upset that... well, not upset, I guess. I'm feeling guilty that you're alive."

"Thanks," said Harry, a little hurt. Almost instantly, though, he caught on. "You mean that all of these people came to my funeral and were killed while the guest of honor comes back, perfectly fine?"

"Exactly," said Hermione.

"It _is_ uncharted territory for most people," added McGonagall. "I suppose I'd feel a little guilty, too, if it happened with Rufus and me."

"As difficult as it might be for Hermione," said Harry, "it's Luna that needs our comfort. I'm sure we can't imagine what she's going through, right now." He sat down next to McGonagall since Luna was flanked by Hermione and Linus.

"Actually," said Linus, "I _do_ understand." He had lost his wife, Luna's mother, at a fairly young age.

"Same here," said McGonagall, She thought a moment before adding, "In fact, I believe the only one here who hasn't experienced this particular sorrow is you, Mr. Potter." She wasn't being mean, with this statement. She knew that Luna was a fan of irony and allowing her an opening to comment on Harry's lack of insight might draw her back to them, a bit.

"I think that Harry's right," said Luna, surprising everyone; Harry most of all. "As I've told Harry and Hermione, already; this is a great day for Draco. He stood up with the rest of the Gryffindors when the time came. He instinctively helped that poor woman when her husband was killed. He found the courage he had so desperately sought and it came naturally, which meant that it was a part of him. He could have died a Death Eater and been lost forever. Instead, he used the time he was given to change himself. I saw it happening, bit by bit. Now, his soul is cleansed and we'll meet again, when my time comes."

"Luna," said McGonagall, "I know you're very upset, right now, but you must believe that you'll find someone else, someday." She certainly didn't want Luna to become a virtual widow at age sixteen.

"Oh, I hope so," said Luna, as if attempting to allay any fears that she was giving up on love. "I know that however special my time with Draco was, it's just a moment in my life. A high note, perhaps, but not the entire song. I just meant that he's in a safe place, now; a place that I hope to be, someday."

"I should have talked to you, Luna," said Hermione. Everyone looked at her, a bit of confusion evident in their faces. "In Minerva's office, when you were trying to comfort me and I pushed you away. I felt just the opposite as you do now. Back then, I couldn't even imagine that I'd ever be happy again, much less find someone to love. You've got such a broad view of life that you can weather this sort of thing much better than the rest of us."

"Sometimes it's good to be me," said Luna, smiling.

"It's always good to _know_ you," said Harry. "Doug... er, Draco would be the first to agree with me."

"How did the two of you ever get together in the first place?" asked McGonagall. "You were from different houses and years." It was funny that she never thought of that before.

"Oh," said Luna, thinking back. "Let's see... I think I wanted to make sure he knew the ways of Hogwarts. At the time, I thought it was strange that Ron and Ginny weren't giving him any advice or telling him any of the points of interest, but it turned out they didn't need to, of course. After that..."

The group spent a couple of hours listening and talking about the ephemeral relationship that had meant so much to the couple. Most of the conversation was filled with happy thoughts but it ultimately wound its way around to the last thread that needed trimming.

"So how do we tell Narcissa that her son's dead?" asked Hermione.

"From a distance," said Luna, enigmatically.

Minerva, who understood the reference, laughed. "I think you have a point there," she said.

"I'm just glad _I_ didn't kill him," said Harry, also laughing. He thought it was funny but no one else made the proper connections to appreciate his gallows humor.

Everyone looked at him as if he'd said something totally inappropriate, which he had, of course. He quickly explained, "Well, I killed Lucius, her husband, and her sister, Bellatrix, you see, so I, ah, well, I don't know. I guess it wasn't as funny as I thought."

"I've noticed that problem before," said Luna.

"I'm sorry, Luna," said Harry. "It's way too early to be making jokes like that."

"Harry," said Luna, "you don't need to explain yourself to me. As much as you have to deal with, if you didn't joke about things, you'd probably fall apart. If there's one thing we've learned today, it's we can't afford having you out of the picture." There were general murmurs of agreement around the table at this.

"Speaking of learning things today," said McGonagall, "it's almost tomorrow. Perhaps we should call it a night. I'm sure that Harry's exhausted after all he must have been through."

"Actually," countered Harry, "I'm pretty well rested. I spent most of the last few days napping, if the truth were known."

"You what?" shrieked Hermione, jumping to her feet. "These were the worst days of my life and you were napping?"

Harry, mistakenly thinking that Hermione was being unreasonable, said, "Well, I couldn't do much else. Besides, if you hadn't jumped to the conclusion that I'd died, then..."

"Jumped to..." seethed Hermione. "Potter..."

"Perhaps you two had better work out your pent-up emotions in the privacy of your bedroom," suggested Luna. She was smiling at the two of them.

"That's a good idea, Luna," said Harry. "I was fairly comfortable, while I was trapped, but I missed holding onto my wife while I napped."

"I've missed that, too," said Hermione, calming down. "You know, Mum wanted to sew up my nightgowns. It's good you came back when you did."

"I suppose so," agreed Harry. "I plan on using their special features, tonight."

"I'm afraid you won't be seeing my nightgowns for some time, Potter," said Hermione.

"What?" asked Harry. "You're kicking me out?"

"You misunderstand," said Hermione, suggestively.

"Oh," said Harry, bending over to join her in an embrace.

"You know," said McGonagall, "the rest of us are still here."

"Then let's take care of that," said Harry. "Luna. I expect that you'll be staying with Linus for a day or so?"

"Just until tomorrow," said Luna. "I'd like to be there to tell Mrs. Malfoy about Draco. I'd just as soon not do it alone, though." She looked around subtly for volunteers.

"I'll go with you," said Minerva. "That's part of my job, unfortunately." She didn't specify if she was referring to part of the job description concerning informing parents of the deaths of their children or the part about protecting students from mad witches.

"Thank you, Headmistress," said Luna.

"Jumper," said Harry.

"What can Jumper be doing for Harry Potter," asked Jumper, a moment later.

"Please see that Luna has a guard tonight," ordered Harry. "She'll be staying with her father until tomorrow so they can also bring her back to Hogwarts, when she's ready."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper. A moment later, Windy was standing before them.

"Linus," said Harry. "Luna. This is Windy. She's more than capable of looking after both of you, tonight."

"Why do we need looking after?" asked Linus. He didn't like the implication.

"Because Luna knows our deepest secrets," answered Harry. "None of the inner circle should be out and about without proper protection. It's just a precaution." He realized that he shouldn't have been so forward, initially, but he hoped that his explanation would satisfy Linus.

"I see," said Linus. He looked at the tiny elf. "I'm not sure she'd be of much help if the Death Eaters attacked.

"You'd be surprised," said Hermione. Not wishing to say any more to the publisher of a newspaper, she continued with, "I suppose we'd best be off. Are you staying in London, tonight, Minerva?"

"Yes," said the Headmistress. "Rufus will probably be working late so I said I'd stay overnight to be near Greta, if she needed me." As an afterthought, "Just so you know, I've already sent word to Pomona that classes are cancelled for tomorrow. With so many staff and students with injuries, I thought it best to give Poppy time to set everyone right."

"Anyone with anything serious?" asked Harry. He assumed that he would have been contacted if anyone needed his special skills but you never know.

"Of those that I'm aware of," said McGonagall, "Professor Coldiron was the only one that has permanent damage. Poor man had one of his eardrums blown out by a Thunderclap charm." She shook her head, sadly.

"We can try some tears in the morning," suggested Harry. "They worked on a witch's eye."

"Tears?" asked Linus. They kept forgetting he was in the room.

"It's a secret, Daddy," said Luna. "Harry has lots of them."

"So I can't mention anything I've learned tonight," concluded Linus. His daughter's safety was part of the deal so he didn't mind. "However, when this war is over, I want the first interview."

"Deal," said Harry. With that, they all said their goodbyes and Harry, Hermione and Jumper headed back to Hogwarts.

* * *

November 5th, 1997

The next morning, Hermione was in two moods. She and Harry had spent part of the night 'catching up', so that made her happily contented. On the other hand, he had revealed a few of the details of his time away and that had her fuming, although she realized that it wasn't his fault that things weren't nearly as difficult for him as they were for her and that she should be glad he hadn't suffered as much as her. She tried to tell herself that with enough regularity to persuade herself to believe it. So far, it wasn't working.

"Will you slow down?" asked Hermione, having to break into a trot for the fourth time to keep pace with Harry.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, momentarily reducing his speed. "I'm just hungry enough to eat a horse."

"Please don't," requested Hermione. "I've had dreams about Bessie, already. I don't want to have a real night mare." She laughed briefly at her somewhat vague pun.

"That reminds me," said Harry. "How much does a sheep cost?"

"What?" asked Hermione, stopping in her tracks at the absurd question.

"A sheep," repeated Harry. "I need to know how much they cost." He had continued a step or two before noticing her lack of movement. Turning, he motioned to her that they should continue on their way.

"This isn't a good day to go out for breakfast. Don't you think you'll get plenty to eat in the Great Hall?" asked Hermione as she began to follow along, again, while trying to figure out why this was suddenly the topic for discussion.

"I wasn't talking about for now," said Harry, laughing. "It just occurred to me that I have to send some money to a farmer. I had four or five sheep after I got out of there." He tried to remember the exact number, but couldn't pin it down. The first two or three sheep had barely stopped bleating before he gulped them down; his being famished at the time.

"We were being attacked by Voldemort and you stopped for lunch?" asked Hermione, angrily stopping again. Harry hadn't mentioned that the night before. It was a good thing that the hallway was mostly empty or these sudden stops would have surely caused some serious traffic jams.

"I was hungry," said Harry. "I hadn't had anything to eat for days." They walked on for a few steps before he added, "Besides, Voldemort hadn't arrived, yet. I heard about that just after we got back to Hogwarts."

"Oh," said Hermione, going back to her somewhat controlled mood. "Well, I'll let you off, for now, but you'd better include those details when you tell your story." They had arbitrarily chosen noon as the time for the inner circle to hear the story of how Harry had escaped certain death. Those in the outer oval would have to content themselves with the fact that he wasn't dead, after all, and had somehow escaped from wherever he had been. The chances of them being contented with this was somewhere between slim and none but those were the breaks.

* * *

At around the same time, but quite a bit lower...

The two witches appeared in front of the fireplace. There was no flash of floo powder preceding them since the floo wasn't connected to this location. If the truth were known, the chimney wasn't connected anywhere, either. Regular smoke wouldn't have been able to make the mile long trip to the surface, anyway. Neither thought occurred to either witch and they began to search for the denizen of this seemingly normal flat. They needn't have bothered.

"Mistress Malfoy," called out Flasher, the elf who had drawn the latest and shortest straw. "You is being having visitors." The elf had appeared at the door of the sitting room a moment after the arrival of the aforementioned visitors.

"Have them wait, elf," commanded Narcissa from the rooms beyond the door. She didn't sound like she had expected or desired company.

"Please be having a seat, Mistresses," suggested Flasher. She gestured at the sofa and chairs. "Is Mistress or Miss Luna being needing refreshments?" She stood waiting patiently.

"Not just this moment," said McGonagal. She didn't expect this to be a long meeting.

"I'd like a glass of lemonade, please," said Luna, politely. Despite her own views on his passing, telling Narcissa Malfoy that her disowned son was dead would probably require some lubrication of her vocal cords.

"Yes, Miss Luna," said Flasher as she trotted off to fetch the drink.

Minerva looked out over Donegal Bay. There were large, regular waves flowing eastward; their crests continually buffeted by the stiff, November winds. Only the largest cargo ships were able to brave the North Atlantic this time of year and the elongated wakes they left made the whole scene look more like an impressionistic painting than an actual physical view. Minerva sat in the chair; the only one by this window, as it turned out; and waited for the arrival of Mrs. Malfoy.

"It's quite beautiful," commented Luna, coming up to stand beside the headmistress. She sipped her lemonade as they watched the nearest ship, racing the shadow of the mountains behind them, recede to the east with the rising of the morning sun.

After about ten minutes, they were roused from the turbulent, though ultimately relaxing view by the aristocratic voice of Narcissa Malfoy. "I thought I had made myself perfectly clear," she said with an irritated tone. "I have no desire to see either you or my traitorous offspring."

"You'll very soon get your wish," said Minerva, rising from the chair and revealing her presence to Narcissa. "One last chance is all you have." She walked around to stand next to, and slightly in front of Luna.

"I'm afraid we have some bad news," began Luna. She paused a moment, glad that she had the foresight to request the drink from which she was currently sipping. "Draco is... well, there was a battle and..." Luna didn't understand. She had been able to speak openly of Draco's death a few mere minutes after it had occurred but was having difficulty now. It seemed that it was harder to inform a parent; any parent, of the death of their child than she would have thought possible.

"Draco has died," said Minerva. She, too, had a bit of difficulty with this, but she knew from past experience that once started, the information should be told as soon as possible to prevent the torture of making the parent guess. She also knew that further information should be withheld until it was asked for. If Narcissa had any feelings at all, she wouldn't be able to hear what was said to her for a while, anyway.

Narcissa stood as if turned to stone. Her mind, cluttered with her most recent emotions of anger, betrayal and disappointment, had to realign itself. Draco had turned his back on everything that Lucius and she had deemed important. He had, by his own admission, aided and supported Harry Potter; the murderer responsible for the deaths of her husband and sister, as well as many of their old friends. For this, there could be no forgiveness. Now, however, there could be no forgiveness for the simple reason that Draco was dead. She knew it was true the moment McGonagall had said it. Why else would the old witch come here? Before that, however, she had said something else. What was it? Something about a last chance to see Draco.

"I see," said Narcissa, dispassionately. "So..." She wasn't sure what she wanted to say, if anything.

"Please have a seat, Mrs. Malfoy," suggested Luna, "and I'll tell you what happened."

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say," snapped Narcissa. "You're the one who turned him from the Dark Lord and his father." She looked ready to strike out at Luna, again.

"I'd suggest you get off your high horse and sit yourself down, Narcissa," said McGonagall in her most professorial voice. "You have a decision to make and if you don't cooperate, it will be made for you."

Narcissa Malfoy wasn't used to being spoken to in such a tone. She did, however, have a fading memory of just how forceful the witch in front of her could be when pushed. Grudgingly, she took a seat across from the fireplace.

"I think it'd be best to start at the beginning," said Luna. She then told the tale of the transformation of Draco, as she knew it, starting with the death of Dumbledore; on to his disillusionment with the average Death Eaters; his month on the run only to be captured by Harry; the beginning of his cooperation with the forces of Good; the thoughts he had expressed to her on the death of Lucius; the meeting with Martha, which was one of his most seminal moments, in Luna's opinion; the forgiveness of Dumbledore and reinstatement at Hogwarts under the assumed name of Dougal Weasley; the beginning of their romantic relationship; his pride in taking her out on their one and only official date; his support of her during her work with Harry; and his last hour, fighting along with the rest of them against Voldemort and finally giving his life so that Luna and several strangers could escape.

"There's a lot to be proud of in Draco," said McGonagall. "He turned his life around and died a better man than many. There's only one thing left to decide." She paused for effect before finishing with, "Do we bury Draco or Dougal?"

Narcissa sat quietly. By telling her story, Luna had managed, in her strange way, to peel back the layers of arrogance that had successively cocooned her since her marriage until the schoolgirl, the youngest of three sisters, had reemerged and she could, once again, appreciate what it meant to be young and in love. It was not unlike the emergence of her own love of Lucius with the obvious difference that she and her husband had gravitated towards power and wealth while Draco and Luna had other priorities. She looked at the woman who her son had loved so very much and said, "My son's name is Draco."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall...

"Well, what am I _supposed_ to do?" asked an exasperated Harry. The queue was twenty-five strong and growing.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "It just seems so wrong, after everything that's happened. A student is dead, after all. Many more are still in the hospital wing." She sighed as she scanned the line more closely. "At least there aren't many Gryffindors involved." She took a bite out of her apple turnover.

"Most of the ones in the hospital _are_ Gryffindors," said Harry, looking up to see who currently stood before him. He started to write a short note, followed by his signature. "Still, I'm a bit surprised that everyone's acting so normally since so many people knew Dougal." His breakfast lay largely untouched as he hurried to catch up with his unexpected workload.

"So did we," agreed Hermione. "This is a funny way to be mourning him."

"If we had a time turner," said Harry, working on the next autograph, "we could go back ten minutes and I wouldn't have signed the first one." He handed the paper back to Glenna Goodwich and took the next one. "Now, I'm stuck." He looked at the second year Ravenclaw and asked, "Didn't you already get one?"

The girl blushed like a Weasley but managed to explain, "It's for Shawna McAllen. She's still in the hospital wing."

"Oh," said Harry, quickly writing a short inscription along with wishes for a speedy recovery.

"You weren't there at the start," said Hermione. "One dead student, even with almost two dozen wounded, was better than we could have hoped for."

"Mr. Potter," said Professor Sprout, surprising them both while acting in the place of the absent Minerva. In her hand was a copy of the Daily Prophet with the most popular front page photo in years taking up a full half of the page. Dragon Harry came up from the back of the photo, his scarf flapping wildly. Just as his wingspan reached each edge of the photo, he incinerated two dementors with one breath before zooming up and out of the frame, his tail whipping across the entire page in extreme closeup at the last second. It was simply a matter of the photographer being in the right place at the right time but the photo was guaranteed to be a cultural icon for years to come. "Do you think that this sort of an activity is appropriate, given the circumstances?"

"We were just discussing that, Professor," answered Hermione. Those near the front of the line heard this exchange and hesitated to move up, at least until Professor Sprout had left. "We were just saying that it might have been better not to have started but, at this point, just finishing up this lot would be the most expedient way of resolving the situation."

"I have a better way," said Pomona Sprout. Raising her voice, she said to all those in line, as well as the rest of the hall, "That's enough autographs, for now. If you have so much time to spare, perhaps a visit to those of your fellow students that are still in the hospital wing would be a better use of it." There were a few groans at this announcement but most of the students had enough of a conscience to feel the sting of her mild rebuke. Grudgingly, they dispersed.

"Thanks," said Harry. "I don't usually like giving autographs, anyway." Sprout nodded and returned to her chair.

"We should probably visit the hospital, too," suggested Hermione. Several of their friends, including Neville, of course, were currently patients there, although, thankfully, none had any permanent injuries. Still, Dean had received a nasty burn on the left side of his body from, quite literally, friendly fire when he zigged instead of zagged during one of Osgar's more erratic strafing runs.

As they prepared to leave, a Hufflepuff boy, perhaps a first year, approached. "I'm sorry," said Harry. "Professor Sprout said that I can't do any more autographs." He then took a closer look at the boy, thinking that they had spoken once before.

"I didn't come for that," said the boy. "I... I know that you're a friend of Dougal's."

"Yes, we were," said Hermione, taking the lead. "Did you know him, too?"

"I remember, now," said Harry, interrupting any answer. "You were getting tutored by Dougal, weren't you?"

"That's right," said John. "Dougal was helping Marcia and me with our studies." He turned away for a moment as he suppressed his tears.

Harry and Hermione gave the boy a moment. Hermione hadn't heard of the encounter in the library when Harry had discovered Dougal's new occupation but she didn't need that information to know that the young wizard had just lost a friend. After a moment, the boy was able to continue with his intended mission.

"Marcia and I were just trying to figure out why someone... someone as nice as... as Dougal was... was..." Clearly, John was having trouble expressing his confusion.

"You're confused why Dougal was killed," summarized Harry. "I've got some experience with that sort of thing." He motioned for the boy to take a seat. John did so, coincidentally sitting very near to the spot normally reserved for Dougal. Harry then looked over towards the far end of the Hufflepuff table and found, after just a moment, Marcia looking intently in their direction. He waved his arm at her, encouraging her to join them. Hesitantly, at first, she quickly walked and then trotted on over to take a seat next to John. After they were settled, Harry began to talk.

"I think the best answer," began Harry, "although the least satisfying is 'why not Dougal?' The Death Eaters don't look for the most expendable person when they're on a killing spree. If they took the time to analyze the past acts and personality of those they targeted, they would probably pick the nicest people and let the villains go, anyway. So for many of those killed, it was just a matter of being in the way."

John didn't seem pleased with this answer so Hermione continued. "That's not what happened with Dougal, though. He was in the wrong place, all right, but he could have gotten away."

"Why didn't he, then?" asked John. "We need him here. Why didn't he run away?"

"Because he was Dougal," answered Harry. "We talked with his girlfriend, Luna. Do you know her?" Marcia nodded. "Anyway, they were trying to get away from the Death Eaters, just as you said, when they came across a woman with children whose husband had just been killed. Dougal stopped and held off the Death Eaters long enough for Luna to help the woman and her children get to safety."

"As well as a few other families," added Hermione.

"Yes," repeated Harry. "Several people were able to get away while Dougal fought the Death Eaters. He couldn't last forever, though, and they finally wounded him. We think that he burned the building everyone had run through before he was killed so that they would all be safe."

John was silently crying, again, but Marcia was nodding her head. "It's like my dad told me; sometimes good people have to die to protect others. My dad's a muggle in the army. Well, he's a sergeant, actually. He has to go away, sometimes, to other countries to fight bad people or to just help out after a flood or earthquake. Anyway, he told us that maybe he won't come back, someday, but if that ever happens to remember that he was there to help."

John looked at his friend in a way that let everyone know that he hadn't heard this about Marcia's dad. He still didn't really understand, but had enough information now to work it out, with Marcia's help, of course.

As they rose to leave, Hermione added, "We need people like Dougal; like Marcia's dad; people who can fight for those who need protection, without regard for themselves. Their kind of courage is rare, but necessary. We'd all be lost without it."

"That's probably why he was in Gryffindor," said John. "Because he was so brave." With a smile of comprehension, he and Marcia went to rejoin their friends.

Harry sat in silence for a moment. Hermione noticed his thoughtful demeanor and asked, "What's the matter?"

Harry paused a moment longer before responding with, "Sometimes I wish Gryffindors weren't all so brave." He gestured at the nearby benches. Of the NEWT students, only he and Hermione were present.

Hermione got the drift and said, "If it was safe to be brave, it wouldn't take courage." She stood.

Harry rose, as well, with a confused look on his face. After they had taken just a few steps, he commented "You know; that almost sounds like it makes sense." They both chuckled a bit before they walked, arm in arm, to the Hospital Wing.

* * *

A mile lower, again, but still just a bit after nine o'clock...

"I'm afraid that I don't understand," said Oliver. He was having a light breakfast with Martha in her sitting room. "From what Harry's told me, this bloke was the main instigator in the death of his parents; not to mention over a dozen other people through the years."

"I'm not sure that I understand, Oliver," replied Martha, testily. "It's not like I was trying to start a friendship or anything. Can't I show some compassion without you going nutters on me?" She snatched another crisp from the tray and bit into it, bitterly.

"I'm sorry if I'm upsetting you," replied Oliver, sincerely. He thought about his next statement as he slowly peeled his apple. "I'd say my primary concern is for your safety. It's one thing to offer a word of comfort to the blighter from a distance; quite another to actually enter his cell."

"I don't think he'd hurt me," said Martha. "Even when... well, he never hit me or anything."

"He bloody well raped you!" shouted Wood, rising to his feet. "I can't believe you care if he lives or dies; much less how he felt when he thought Harry had snuffed it."

"I said I don't understand it," said Martha. "I... well it's just that..."

"That what?" asked Wood. "What is it that's making you care about this vile Death Eater?"

"He's not vile," said Martha. "I think it's just that when I found out that Harry was dead, I couldn't believe it. I mean, I believed it. Hermione wasn't joking; that's for sure. It just seemed so impossible. You felt the same, if I remember correctly. When the Prophet came out on Monday with the story about how Harry had died, and all, I fell apart, again; more or less. I just went with my normal routine, out of habit, I guess, and took the papers around to the prisoners that normally received them. Millie was doing the actual deliveries, of course, but on the way back to the office, she could tell that Greyback wasn't right. I sent her to fetch Poppy and was walking back to the office alone when I noticed Peter. I tell you, he would've made anyone care; the way he was clutching that paper, sobbing his eyes out. I used my ring to enter the cell; foolish, I know; and when he saw me, he just wrapped his arms around me and hugged me for all he was worth. I knew then that he cared for Harry as much as anyone. He cried, and I cried, and we both hugged each other for what seemed like an hour."

"But why?" asked Oliver, a new question on his mind. "Why did he care? Why did he turn to you, someone he'd raped, for comfort?"

"I was the only one he had, probably," said Martha. She knew better than to tell the whole truth. It had come to her as she tried to explain it all to Oliver. She had been saved by Harry; saved from the likes of Peter. Peter, she knew, was also being saved by Harry. He had been helping Harry with his research and had also been working on some sort of a personal project for Harry, as well. Peter had been trying to make up for his past by becoming the mentor and friend that he should have been. They both felt his loss to the bottom of their souls.

"Well, Harry's back so Pettigrew won't be needing your comfort, any longer," said Oliver, peevishly.

"I suppose not," said Martha, noncommittally. She decided to keep to herself the fact than as soon as she had returned last night, she had rushed to give Peter the good news before anyone else. At the time, she hadn't understood why. Now, she did.

* * *

In the Hospital Wing...

"Neville," asked Harry, affecting a confused and concerned expression, "you were clad nearly head to foot in a complete dragon hide outfit. How did you manage to get hurt, anyway?"

Neville, sporting bandages on both arms, as well as around his chest, replied, "Actually, Harry; if I hadn't been wearing those robes you gave me for my birthday, I wouldn't be hurt; I'd be dead." He smiled grimly since in his case, it did only hurt when he laughed.

"Well," prompted Hermione, "tell us your sad tale." She and Harry had already made the rounds of the infirmary, checking to see if anyone could use Harry's particular talents. Professor Coldiron was the only one that they knew might be helped but he had already left. Madam Pomfrey, not surprisingly, was busy mixing some sort of a potion and therefore they chose not to bother her with such a redundant question. Surely, she knew what Harry was capable of and where to find him if she needed him.

"Well," began Neville, "When the Da... Death Eaters arrived, we saw that Seamus, Dean and Dougal were organizing a line of defense along the south end of the square so Ginny and I joined up with them. We were hit with a fairly constant stream of spells so we mostly were only able to cast shields. The lower years, along with some of the professors, were pulling back to some of the buildings. Hagrid ,Professor Coldiron and Professor Moody joined up with us, though. Mad-eye had some, well, interesting spells that were a bit on the harsh side so the Death Eaters concentrated on him. That let the rest of us get off some offensive spells. Someone on the end was really doing a number on a couple of the Death Eaters. I swear, one burst into flames." He shuddered a moment at the memory. Ginny picked up the story.

"So we were doing okay," she continued. "Not great, but not bad. After a bit, Coldiron called out that everyone behind us had managed to make a retreat and that we'd better start doing the same. As we were pulling back, someone lobbed a fireball over our heads that no one managed to block. I suppose we all thought that we were having enough difficulty dealing with the ones that were coming right at us to worry about the ones that were going to miss. Unfortunately, it hit the apothecary."

"Yeah," picked up Neville. "There was glass everywhere as the front window blew out. I turned and wrapped Ginny up with me in the cloak..."

"Thanks, by the way," interrupted Ginny, giving Neville a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome," continued Neville. "There must have been some flammable potions in the window," continued Neville, "because they splattered on my robes and caught fire."

"Dragon hide doesn't burn," stated Harry, beating Hermione to the punch.

"These sure did," said Ginny. "I don't know what sort of potion it was, but it was the brightest, whitest light you ever saw. It took a moment for my sight to come back, even shielding my eyes, and by that time..."

"By that time," said Neville, taking possession of the story, yet again, "I was really feeling the heat and just wanted to get them off of me."

"Which we did," finished Ginny. "That cloak burned in the street for at least ten minutes. The fires and smoke from the apothecary broke our ranks and we all just took cover where we could. Neville and I made it to the parcel service owlry. By that time, Neville's burns were getting to hurt pretty badly. I was soaking him with my wand but eventually I had to stun him for his own good."

"I woke up in St. Mungo's," finished Neville. "They sent me back here since they were running out of room."

"Well, we're glad you're going to recover," said Hermione, patting his unburned hand.

"Of course," agreed Harry. "I must say, though, that I'm a little concerned about that flaming potion." Lowering his voice, he added, "I just spent four days sitting in a pool of lava and it felt pretty darn comfortable. I have no idea how much heat you'd need to burn dragon hide."

"There might be other things involved," suggested Hermione. "You said several potions were splattered on you, right?"

"Yes," answered Neville. "I suppose that the one that was on fire might have not been able to hurt by itself, but if another one weakened the dragon hide, it might have made a difference."

"I suppose," said Harry, nodding at this possibility. "I'm glad you're okay, in any event."

"Thanks, Harry," said Neville, leaning back into his stack of pillows. Ginny adjusted her position to better hold his good hand. It looked like he wanted to rest some more so Harry and Hermione moved on.

The second time they passed Poppy, Hermione noticed that she was putting the potion she had been brewing into a bowl, instead of a flask. The odor was also a bit different than what would be considered normal.

"What are you making?" asked Hermione, looking into the cauldron and getting a better whiff.

"Chicken soup," said Poppy, "with plenty of meat and broth."

"It's not lunch time, yet," said Harry, looking at his watch.

"It's not for me," said Poppy, setting down the bowl before walking up to Harry and giving him a hug. "I'm so glad you're all right." She said this last bit with a strained voice.

"Why, Poppy," said Harry, touched. "I didn't know you cared." He did, in fact, know that Poppy cared, but wanted to give her an excuse to recover from her momentary lapse into sentimentality.

"Who's the soup for?" asked Hermione. It smelled pretty good and she hoped that she knew the intended person well enough to bum some of it off of them.

"Greyback," said Poppy. She took a spoon off of the table and started to head for the transport icon.

"Greyback?" asked Harry and Hermione simultaneously.

"Yes," answered Poppy. "He's not responding to my more traditional treatments so I thought I'd try my chicken soup. I won a few prizes with this when I was younger, you know."

"Do you have some extra?" asked Harry. He had, after all, been busy during breakfast.

"Help yourself," said Poppy, indicating the cauldron. She then portkeyed off.

Harry found another spoon but couldn't find a bowl, nearby. Improvising, he grabbed a bedpan off of what he hoped was the clean stack and, after first casting a Scourgefy spell, just in case, he ladled out about two helpings of the aromatic soup.

"Harry!" whispered Hermione, sharply. "Have you lost your mind?"

"It's clean," said Harry, taking his first taste. "Mmmm. This is excellent." He rapidly ate two more spoonfuls.

Hermione quickly looked around before trying to block her husband from view. "At least let me transfigure that thing into a soup bowl." She pulled her wand but Harry turned away from her, protecting the bedpan.

"This is bigger," he explained. He returned to the cauldron and peered inside while reaching for the ladle.

"Harry!" snapped Hermione, again. Changing tack, she said, "Let's go see what's happened with Greyback." She stepped over by the icon so that he could figure out that this wasn't a suggestion.

"Okay," said Harry, pouring two more overladen ladles into his bedpan before joining her. She grabbed him by his collar when he was in range and activated the portkey.

* * *

In the Main Hall of Riddle Manor...

"Mr. Potter's been very busy," said Voldemort, sitting; well, lying, actually, on a sofa topped with about a dozen feather pillows. "Replacing limbs; curing werewolves; and who knows what else." He continued to read the Daily Prophet, as was his lieutenant.

"He's only done the one werewolf, Master," said Snape before he realized he had just corrected someone who didn't take correction well.

"I'll bet it wasn't easy, either," said the Dark Lord, too comfortable, for the moment, to risk rising to inflict an appropriate reminder on Snape. "About how many werewolves are currently in Britain?"

Snape didn't have that sort of information on hand but gave his best guess. "I'd say around one hundred, Master, give or take."

"Within a week," smirked Voldemort, "they'll all be at Hogwarts, demanding to be cured. That ought to get old fast." He smiled to himself.

Further discussion was temporarily interrupted as Wendall Jones wheeled in a projector on a cart. Underneath, a stack of round tins rested on three shelves.

"Good morning, Master," said Jones. "What would you like to see, today?" He attached the take-up reel while he waited.

"Goldfinger," said Voldemort, without hesitation.

"Yes, Master," said Jones as he withdrew the desired film. Opening the first tin, he began to feed the film through the mechanism.

"Snape," said Voldemort. "Bring my wounded minions in to join me. It's time we did some bonding. James Bonding."

Author's note: No. I didn't get to Harry's story but at least I left a clue. I just thought this chapter was long enough as it was and it still might take a while before Harry spills the beans so here we are.

Dad


	83. Chapter 83

Chapter 83 - Paths of Redemption

November 5th, 1997

"You're going to hurt my feelings if you keep this up." Poppy tried her best to let the aroma from her soup waft across the nostrils of her reluctant patient. He made no sign of hearing her and remained neither asleep nor unconscious but nevertheless unresponsive. She had already done the hard part; healing his damaged heart. It was one of the areas where magic worked better than the muggle methods. An older witch or wizard had a much better chance of surviving a heart attack than did a muggle. It still took a lot out of someone to recover. A few days of bed rest and plenty of protein was required to fully heal. The hyperactive metabolism of a werewolf would normally accelerate this process. Now, it was a detriment, having already used up his normal reserves and begun to quickly, and dangerously, drain his body. By refusing food, he was, it seemed, actively trying to hasten his own death. Poppy began to consider some of her alternative methods of getting some nutrition into the werewolf.

While she was doing this, Harry and Hermione arrived in their office. Harry was planning on finishing his soup before following the nurse but he was distracted by something else.

"What is that?" said Harry, looking around. He wasn't alarmed or anything and didn't pull his wand, but he was definitely concerned.

Hermione looked around and listened. "I don't hear anything," She saw some elves in the map room. Martha wasn't with them, which was unusual, but there wasn't any cause for Harry's agitation.

"Can't you feel it?" asked Harry. He was astonished at her lack of perception. He concentrated on the feeling for a few more seconds before reiterating, "Something's wrong." Setting down his bedpan and following his Fawkes sense, he walked out the door and down the aisle. "It's getting stronger," he said after just a few steps.

"Where's it coming from?" asked Hermione. She still didn't know what 'it' was but was becoming as concerned as Harry.

"This way," said Harry, walking a little brisker. "It's like someone's sad; very sad. No. More than that. It's..." He paused in front of Greyback's cell. He watched Poppy for a moment and finished his thought. "It's despair. Total and complete despair." He took Hermione's hand and, using his ring, he portkeyed them both into the cell.

Poppy looked up when they arrived and stood to discuss the condition of the werewolf. Motioning them both into the corner, she said, "I'm not sure what the problem is. I've checked his heart over twice and it's functioning as well as can be expected."

"What happened to his heart?" asked Harry.

"He had a heart attack," said Poppy. "Yesterday morning. One of the elves came and got me. It was serious, of course, but I'm sure I fixed him up in plenty of time."

"Yesterday," asked Hermione. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"_I_ told you," said Poppy, surprised. "Don't you remember?" She looked at Hermione with her diagnosing eyes.

"No," said Hermione. "Of course, I don't remember much about yesterday morning. The first thing I remember is Luna saying something."

"Oh," said Poppy. "You didn't seem too coherent, now that I think of it. You probably had other things on your mind."

"That's for sure," said Hermione. "So what do you think's wrong with Greyback?"

"I'm not sure," said Poppy. "He's conscious but unresponsive."

Harry looked at Greyback and seemed to understand the problem. He asked, "Could I have that bowl of soup, Poppy." He held out his hands, expectantly. Poppy started to hand it to him but Hermione put her arm in the way.

"You've still got some left in the office," snapped Hermione.

"It's not for me," said Harry, reaching past her to take the bowl from Poppy. He went over to the chair Poppy had been using and sat next to Greyback.

"Fenrir," he said, as if just continuing a conversation with the werewolf, "I think you're making a big mistake. This chicken soup is fantastic and I've only tasted it out of a bedpan."

"You what?" asked a shocked Poppy.

"Don't ask," begged Hermione, covering her face.

"Hey," said Harry, "I'm pretty sure it was clean." He laughed at his wife's reaction. When he did so, those nearby felt the usual rush of good feelings come right along with his mirth. She smiled at him, proving once again that the most brilliant thing he had ever done was marry her.

Harry maintained his good spirits and turned to focus them on Greyback. "Come along, Fenrir," said Harry. "Poppy made this just for you, but if you aren't in the mood..." He put the spoon to his lips and slurped as noisily as he could.

"Harry," whined Hermione, trying not to laugh.

"Now what?" asked Harry. He pretended to be confused before taking another spoonful and swallowing it normally. He then chanced another peek at his patient and noticed that Greyback's eyes, which earlier had been staring blankly into space, were now turned towards him.

"My wife is giving me some grief, Fenrir," said Harry, pointing at Hermione with his spoon. "Maybe you'd better finish this." He dipped his spoon in the bowl and brought it next to Greyback's mouth.

Greyback stared at Harry for several seconds before slowly parting his lips. Harry poured the soup carefully into his mouth. Greyback swallowed and licked his lips.

"That's pretty good," he said, softly. "I'd like some more, if you don't mind." Harry smiled and for the next few minutes, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Dragon Wizard, the Savior of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, fed soup to Fenrir Grayback, the most notorious werewolf of the twentieth century.

* * *

On the far side of the Snake Door...

"I'm afraid that I have to agree with him," said Peter. He had pulled over a chair next to the glass wall of his cell. The Daily Prophet, which Martha had brought and Tripper delivered, lay half opened on his knee, waiting to be read. That had been put off when Martha stayed to talk. "I'm not the sort of person you should waste your time with."

"It's not like we're up to anything," said Martha. She wasn't being entirely truthful. She wasn't interested in Peter romantically but she did have questions she wanted answered. She had used that newspaper as an excuse to see Peter after Oliver had left. "I mean, these walls would make it hard to keep any sort of a romance secret." She tapped the glass for effect.

"That's true," agreed Pettigrew. "Still, I think that at the very least, you should remain on that side from now on."

"I intend to," said Martha. "I was caught up in the moment, yesterday. I'm not much of a hugger, anyway. Just ask Oliver."

"I'm pretty sure we won't be comparing notes on that sort of thing," said Peter, laughing. Martha joined in for a moment before catching herself.

"You see?" she asked. "This is the sort of thing that makes it difficult to see Oliver's point of view. He thinks you're some sort of an evil, snarling bastard sitting in your cell, muttering murder plots to yourself. I see you everyday, bringing the paper and in passing, and you're just a regular guy. Harry even talks about you like he likes you and we all know what you've done to him. That's what makes it hard to figure you out."

"You don't need to figure me out," said Peter. "All you need to know is I, ah, raped you." He turned away as he said this.

"Here we go again," said Martha. "You can barely say it. How could you do it? It just doesn't seem like you at all."

"There's a simple explanation for all of this," said Peter, "but I'm afraid Harry has the right to hear it first. I'll write up a scroll for you, if you're curious, since I don't expect to last very long after Harry finds out why I betrayed James and Lily. I think you deserve it, after all I've done to you."

Martha stood quietly, not knowing what else to say. "Can you at least tell me if you regret what you've done?" She was looking for something that would justify her gut instinct that Peter Pettigrew wasn't the monster he was portrayed to be.

Peter considered the question. Finally, he said, "I am sorry that you were captured, tortured and raped. I am sorry for the deaths of the people that have died at my hand. I am sorry for many things that have happened in my life. As to your underlying question, though, I have only one major regret. Every day, for over sixteen years, now, I have regretted the single moment of weakness that led to it all. I was given a choice and I chose wrong. Since then, my path was laid before me. There was no turning back and I had nowhere to go but down it."

"If there's no turning back," argued Martha, "how is it that you're helping Harry? Surely, you must have changed."

"If the Dark Lord came through that door and released me," said Wormtail, "and then ordered me to kill you, I'd do it without a moment's hesitation. I cannot change my fate."

Martha, shocked at the statement, backed away instinctively. When Peter made no effort to modify or retract his pronouncement, she decided that he might not be as nice as she'd thought. Silently, she turned and made her was to the nearest master icon. Touching it with her ring, she returned to the safety of her office. She had some thinking to do.

* * *

Two hours later, Harry and Hermione sat on a side bench in the school courtyard. It was a warmer than usual day but Hermione still felt the need for a warming charm. They had left a much improved Fenrir Grayback to continue his recovery under the care of Madam Pomfrey. He had wanted to jump right into the cure, of course, but after being told by Harry, Hermione and Poppy that the much younger and physically fit Remus had nearly passed out and had to remain mostly in bed for two days after his cure, he reluctantly had to agree that he had better get over the heart attack first, before making the attempt. They had ten days before the next full moon so there wasn't any need to rush.

"Well," said Harry. "What should we do now?" He was leaning back with his arm around Hermione. For her part, she was doing her best to snuggle up against him but, as always, she gave his question some thought.

"I'm not sure what we _should_ do," said Hermione, "but I know what I _want_ to do."

"And what's that?' asked Harry.

"Go to Sicily with a stack of twenties and lounge in the sun while Marcello brings me treats," said Hermione, honestly.

"I think we can pencil that in for over Christmas break," offered Harry. "Right now, though, we only have an hour before we meet with the Inner Circle."

"I hope that's enough time," said Hermione.

"Enough time for what?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," answered Hermione, "but your Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are coming over." She nodded her head to indicate the approaching couple.

Harry turned to look, as well, but managed to maintain a fairly non-judgmental expression on his face.

"Hello, Harry. Hermione," said Petunia as they came within talking distance. "We've been looking all over for you." Vernon remained silent but showed no outward hostility.

"We've been on the move," explained Hermione. "Several of our friends were injured, yesterday, and one of our prisoners had a heart attack."

"Oh, my," said Petunia, surprised. "Is he alright? I mean, is he recovering?"

"Now he is," said Harry. "Not to be rude, but we have a meeting at noon. Perhaps you could tell us why you were looking for us." He indicated the twin to the bench that he and Hermione were sitting on.

Vernon and Petunia sat down. "Well," said Vernon, "your Aunt and I were discussing, well, everything last night and it seems that with this war thingy going on, the possibility exists for any one of us to snuff it at any time. Several people were killed yesterday. We also overheard that one of the students here was one of them. It got us to thinking about our Dudley. Now, we don't want to draw any attention to him, or ourselves, but we'd like to at least see how he's getting along."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other before Hermione said, "I think that enough time's passed to risk some contact." She thought some more and said, "Anyone watching his school would recognize any of us, but I know someone who's a master of disguise. She could get in and arrange a meeting, I suppose."

"I don't know if secrecy is as important as it once was," said Harry. "We know that Voldemort knows the two of them are still alive. He also probably knows that they live here, now."

"Yes," said Hermione, replying to Harry, "but I wasn't worried about letting it get out that the Dursleys are alive. As you've pointed out, he already knows all about that, but he also knows he can't get to them, at least not here. If they started visiting Dudley openly and on a regular basis, then he'd probably use the opportunity to kill all three of them."

Harry and Hermione had gotten used to the idea that Voldemort wanted the pair of them, and most of their friends, as well, dead. It didn't even register anymore on their list of worries. This was not the case with Petunia or Vernon. They were aware, of course, that they were on Voldemort's list, but having it discussed so openly was a bit disconcerting.

"Perhaps it isn't such a good idea after all," suggested Vernon.

"I'm sure something can be worked out," said Harry, picking up on his uncle's nervousness. "Once we figure out the details, I'm sure you'll have an excellent chance of surviving. Better than average, at least."

"Harry," said Hermione, chuckling, "stop teasing them." She grinned for a second before turning to the ashen faced elder couple. "Harry's exaggerating the danger. This first meeting should be safe enough. It's a regular or predictable schedule or location that has to be avoided."

"Well, maybe we shouldn't..." began Petunia.

"I think the biggest security risk would be Dudley," interrupted Harry. "If he let it slip that he had seen his parents, then it wouldn't take much to just track him."

"We could use the Obliviate Tractus spell on him before revealing anything," said Hermione. "That way, if it looks like he might have trouble keeping everything a secret, we could erase his memory of the meeting and no harm done."

"Erase Dudley's memory?" exclaimed Petunia in shock.

"It's perfectly safe," said Harry. "We've used it on our headmistress and a few other people, from time to time. It just prevents you from remembering anything from when it's cast until it's removed. You'd never know it happened unless you were looking at a clock at the time."

"If it looks like Dudley will be able to cope," added Hermione, "we just won't finish the spell. The first part will wear off after a week or so. I think it's a good idea. If he freaks out, or there are other problems, we just get everyone out of there and finish the spell. He wouldn't remember a thing." She saw the concern still evident on their faces and reiterated, "It's really quite safe. We've never had a problem with it."

After a few moments, Vernon said, "Well, I suppose it'd be worth it to see our Dudley. Make whatever arrangements are necessary."

"We'll get right on it," said Harry. "The person Hermione mentioned will be at the meeting we're going to. She's an aurer; a policewoman to you, so I'll bet she's set up secret meetings like this dozens of times."

"Excellent," said Petunia. She looked up.

"Good morning," said McGonagall to the group. Everyone rose politely. Minerva then waited for Vernon to complete that action before she continued.

"I don't mean to interrupt," she began, "but I'm afraid that Rita Skeeter is waiting at the main gate. She claims to have an appointment with you, Harry. You do recall that we have a meeting in forty-five minutes or so, don't you?"

"Yes, Headmistress," said Harry. "I agreed to talk to her so that she'd let me work, yesterday, but I didn't specify a particular time or place."

"I'll go talk to her," said Hermione. Turning to Harry, she asked, "Do you think that two hours should be long enough for the meeting at noon?"

"I think so," said Harry. "My story won't take all that long. It might work out better, in any event. I'm not sure what to tell her, anyway. It'd give us some time to get our stories straight."

"Fine," said Hermione. "If you'll all excuse me, I'll arrange for us to see Rita at the Three Broomsticks at two o'clock." She kissed Harry and walked off.

"I'll be off, too, then," said Minerva. She turned to leave but quickly spun back to face Harry. "Mr. Potter," she stated, "I've heard a few rumors about some autographs?" She peered over her eyeglasses at him in the manner that used to send shivers up his spine.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," apologized Harry. "It just sort of happened. The first person caught me off guard and once I signed the first one, it was hard to turn down the others."

"I see," said McGonagall. She smiled conspiratorially and, after first pulling her own paper out of her robes, she handed it to Harry, saying, "I guess one more won't hurt, then."

* * *

November 5th, 1997

Just outside the office of the Fortress of Solitude.

"Good afternoon," said Harry. The Inner Circle had met to hear from Harry the tale of his survival. He, in turn, would be informed of the major events that he had missed. The number of the group remained the same as always. Draco was gone but the Minister of Magic had become a member during Harry's 'death' since they had needed to replace Harry's power with Scrimgeour's connections. Jumper replaced Slider. The rest of the group had arrived and they all now waited for Harry to continue. Hermione had made the effort to take Luna's hand which the younger witch had found comforting.

Although there was, technically, no head to the round table around which the Inner Circle sat, there was no doubt that Harry was sitting at it. That would be true, now, for the rest of his life. With this latest defeat of Lord Voldemort, while his full power surrounded him and with victory already being in his grasp, Harry had transcended from the realm of Hero into Legend. Merlin, by centuries of tradition, would remain at the top of the list, but there was a new number two. Harry, of course, wouldn't believe a word of it.

"Before we begin," began Harry, "I'd like to recognize the fact that we lost three members of our company. The details will come out as we tell our tales, but I just wanted us to remember that many of us wouldn't be here if not for the sacrifices of Slider, Sleepy and Draco." He paused a moment to allow them all to reflect on this.

Jumper, surprised at the mention of any of the elves, much less the fact that they were named before a wizard, instinctively added, "Curly is also being killed, Harry Potter." He then felt awkward at having interrupted and quickly sat back down.

"Curly," asked Harry. "I didn't know that. When did that happen?"

"Curly is being dying during He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's attack on Diagon Alley, Harry Potter," answered Jumper, rising to speak. "He is being attacked by many Death Eaters."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Harry. He paused. "When we get to that point, Jumper, you'll have to tell us what happened. I think that we'd better keep the rest of the story in the proper sequence."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper, returning to his seat.

"Okay," said Harry, gathering his thoughts. "Hermione's said that everyone's familiar with the story up until we finished talking to the Fire Golem. Is that correct?" He looked around the table, lingering the longest on Rufus. Rufus raised his hand and gestured for Harry to continue.

"Well," continued Harry, "I was all for trying to make a run for it. The Golem had sucked the juice out of the portkeys like they were oranges. It even thanked us for the treat. Anyway, that _was_ Plan B for our escape so we didn't have many options. Slider... he knew that, one way or the other, we weren't both going to get away. The Fire Golem was just too powerful. Slider petrified me and... and..." Harry paused and poured himself a glass of water. No one pushed him to continue. They knew it wouldn't take Harry long to collect himself.

Harry set down the glass and redirected the tale to the point just after Slider had died. "Once Slider had been killed, I was free of the petrification, but pretty upset. I almost attacked the Golem before thinking better of it. When I regained my senses, I noticed that it was in trouble. It was twisting and turning every which way and changing colors and everything. There was no mistaking that it was in some sort of pain. Finally, it just sort of whooshed up," Harry raised his arms dramatically, "and then fell in on itself. All of these little globes of light that had been circling it smashed into the walls and went out, as well. It got fairly dark after that. Some light came from the tunnels, but the chamber seemed pretty dim after having been so bright."

"Do you have any ideas on what happened?" asked Ron.

"With the Fire Golem?" asked Harry. "Well, no; not really. Other than the obvious, that is. Clearly, it made a mistake in taking Slider's magic."

"Jumper," asked Hermione, "are you aware of anything that might shed some light on all of this?" Hermione had already exhaustively researched everything she could find on Fire Golems and had not come across the phenomenon that Harry had described. Their only hope lay within the sanctum sanctorum of house elf secrets and mysteries.

"No, Mistress Hermione," answered Jumper. "Jumper isn't being knowing about this type of magic. Jumper is being able to be asking... others, if Mistress Hermione is being asking."

"Others?" asked Harry and Hermione, together. They looked at each other and around the group. No one seemed able to shed some light on this new clue.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," answered Jumper. He said no more but looked around, nervously, as if he'd already said too much.

"Who are these 'others'?" asked Rufus.

Jumper hesitated for just a moment, knowing the answer but not knowing how it would be received. "Jumper is not being able to be saying, Minister Scrimgeour."

"What?" asked Rufus. He gave Jumper a look that would have cowed lesser men.

"Jumper is not being able to be..." repeated Jumper.

"I heard what you said," interrupted Rufus. "I'll remind you that I'm the Minister of Magic and I've asked you an important question. The specific details of this situation are highly secret and I think that I speak for everyone when I say that we'd like to know with whom you'll be discussing it."

"I have to disagree, Rufus," said Harry. "We know that the house elves have secrets. We've learned of _The Voice_, for example, but there are many things we don't know. I suspect that there's some sort of ruling body that's unknown to anyone. We've heard of a parliamentarian, for example. There may be others."

"I remember Slider speaking of this voice," said Rufus, scratching his whiskers. "I'm not sure what that has to do with my concerns. How do we know that this information won't end up in the wrong hands?"

"Jumper," asked Harry, quickly. "Will these 'others' that you've spoken about reveal our secrets to anyone else?"

"No, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "They is being only speaking to house elves. Harry Potter's secrets is being safe with them."

"Good enough," said Harry. "Please ask about ..."

"What do you mean 'Good enough'?" asked Scrimgeour. "It's not 'good enough' for me. You're entrusting your most closely guarded secret to a house elf and some sort of unknown group about which we know nothing." His auror background was kicking in. He had been lured to several 'secret meetings' with people he had been assured were safe when he was younger. Few had turned out well.

"Rufus," said Minerva, sharply. She then softened in tone and countenance. "I know exactly how you feel. When Harry's group began to form, they recruited elves for a variety of tasks. I wasn't sure how it would work out, having the usual pureblood prejudices against what I considered to be a lesser race. Since then, ..."

"It's not that I don't trust them," interrupted Rufus. "Far from it. It's just been my experience that the less people who know a secret, the longer it remains so."

"The Minister is right," said Remus, surprising everyone. "Although it caused a great deal of trouble and confusion, the aftereffects of the Fire Golem taking Slider's magic is a mystery that we don't need to solve. If just the single word 'golem' came to Voldemort's ear, he'd know that we were hunting horcruxes. It's better to let it drop, for now."

No one said anything for a few seconds. Hermione, especially, wanted to know what had happened that had caused her so much pain and torment. Remus made a valid point, though. They didn't need to know what happened. Only the fact that the horcrux was not in the volcano was important.

"As much as I want to know more," said Harry, finally, "I think that Remus is right. It isn't important to our objectives to find out what happened. Perhaps we should just move on to the next place we need to check out."

"We won't 'move on'," said Hermione, "until you tell us how you survived. I don't care if it isn't necessary information, either. You're going to talk." She crossed her arms and slumped back into her chair.

"Oh," said Harry. "I forgot. Let's see," he continued, thinking. "Where did we leave off?'

"The chamber was dim and you couldn't see very well," said Luna. She had remained, oddly, the most focused member of the group.

"Right," said Harry. "Well, it wasn't long before it started to get brighter. Lava started to fill the tunnels. The bowl that the Fire Golem was above started to overflow, as well. After that, the ceiling started to show signs of stress and it collapsed in on me. I was hit by a couple of splatters of lava on my arm and feet. That hurt quite a bit and I went totally instinctive. I knew, although I didn't consciously realize it, that there was only one thing I could do that would help. I changed into a dragon."

"How could you do that?" asked Hermione. "If the magic in that area was already gone, then..."

"It wasn't easy," interrupted Harry. "I'd say the sensation was closest to apparating through really good wards. I had to really pour all of my attention into the effort and, even then, I was exhausted at the end. I must have passed out. I'm not sure for how long, of course. When I awoke, I was facing a wall with my wings over my head. The lava was still shifting so I guess it wasn't very long."

"What do you mean by shifting?" asked Tonks.

"Flowing over me," answered Harry. "I could feel the weight change over time. It got pretty heavy, even for a dragon. Then, all of a sudden, it went the other way. I felt the lava flow off of me and I was being pulled away from the wall. My tail had been grabbed by something, I thought, and I didn't really know what to think."

"Your tail was being pulled?" asked Honey. "I thought the Fire Golem was destroyed. What was pulling your tail?"

"It turned out to be the lava," said Harry. "I flailed around with my tail, trying to shake free. By trying to pull my tail out, I ended up pulling myself towards a big hole that had opened up in the floor. That was where all the lava went. The weight must have been too much and it opened up into the chamber below. I had to pull with my front legs to get back to firmer ground because my back feet were hanging over the edge."

"That must have been frightening," said Luna, finally showing some emotion.

"It was," said Harry. "I didn't know how far down the hole went or how deep the lava in it was so I scurried into a corner to get a better view and think. Fresh lava covered the entire floor, but only parts of it had any sort of a flow. Eventually, the lava from the tunnels found their best paths to the hole and I could sleep; knowing I was safe, at least for the moment."

"Sleep?" shouted Hermione. "How could you just take a nap?"

"It was that or just pass out," explained Harry. "Like I said, transforming into a dragon was extremely difficult, for some reason. Then, pulling myself out of that hole was about all I could manage. I had to rest. As I said; I was safe, so I took my opportunity to recover."

"I think you were luckier than you realize," said Ron. "You're description of transforming reminded me of Sleepy. Hermione said that she thought she was dead before the lava hit her." He looked at Hermione, hoping she would pick it up from there.

"That's true," said Hermione, actively trying to remember that moment instead of blocking it for the first time. "I don't know if she knew it would kill her. She probably knew that she wasn't ..." Hermione abruptly stopped talking. Tears welled up as she thought of how Sleepy had freely given her life to save Ron, Honey and herself.

"Mistress Hermione must not be being sad," said Jumper, rising. "A house elf who is being dying while saving just one witch or wizard is being a good house elf. Sleepy is being saving two witches and a wizard. House elves is being remembering Sleepy forever."

"And Slider," added Harry, sadly. He then thought for a bit longer before stating, "This reminds me of what Grampa said to me early last summer. He said that magic is enhanced or magnified by love and life. You could practice using love, since you never run out, but you only have so much life. I think that Sleepy must have used all of her life to have enough power to save the three of you. I only had to transform, but it still took a lot out of me."

"I think that makes sense," said Hermione. "You, and Sleepy, too, I suppose, must have had just a tiny amount of magic within you, at least for a few seconds. You both used your life, uh, force, I guess, to get out one more bit of magic."

"So why didn't Harry change back into a man when the magic had all gone?" asked Honey.

"Because you don't need magic to stay in your animagus form," explained Minerva. "It becomes your natural shape."

"Exactly," said Remus. "Peter, for example, was a rat for over a decade. He still is, I suppose. Anyway, he stayed that way asleep or awake. It required no effort on his part."

"Speaking of no effort," said Hermione, "perhaps Harry should continue with his story." She looked at him and added, "So you were napping there in the corner; warm and cozy. And then..." She raised her hand to gesture for him to continue.

"Well," said Harry, a bit embarrassed that she had mockingly hit the nail on the head so cleanly, "I don't really know how long I slept that first time. I was exhausted so I'll assume it was for several hours, at least. When I woke, the lava seemed to have settled down, a bit. There was still some dripping into the big hole in the floor, but nothing like before. I thought about getting out of there but, as you might not know, the tunnels were only about ten feet high, at most, and the one I thought was the one that I came in from was much smaller. I couldn't turn back into a man without being incinerated. I couldn't, anyway, if what we now suspect was true. I could tell that the antiapparition ward was gone but I'd definitely never apparated as a dragon. With no other options, though, I tried. It didn't work."

"I assume you considered taking the next logical step at that point?" asked Rufus.

"What step?" asked Harry.

"Panicking," said Rufus. A few of the others laughed.

"Oddly," said Harry, "I never panicked. I, well, I knew that Hermione would figure out what happened and come and get me, somehow." He smiled at Hermione.

"And I let you down," said Hermione, bitterly. She meant it, too. "I never once considered going back into that volcano, once we were out. I should have ... Oh, I don't know. Maybe ..."

"Hermione," said Harry. "It's not your fault. You said that magic wasn't back to normal, even at the entrance, for almost a whole day. It was almost three more days before it finally came back in the cavern where I was. How long should you be expected to wait for ..."

"As long as it took," said Hermione. "Minerva brought a tent. I had plenty of food. I could have started back in the next morning."

"Hermione," began Harry.

"I'll never leave you behind, again," said Hermione, becoming weepy, once again. "One way or the other, you're coming home or I'm not!"

Harry, despite his limitations, finally began to get a grasp of just how emotionally challenging the past few days had been for Hermione. With an inrush of love, he rose and swept her into his arms for one of the best kisses either had ever received or given.

After the third minute had begun, Rufus said, "Harry. After we're done here, you can take your wife and finish what you've started." He looked at Minerva and added, "That might be a good idea, all the way around. For now, though, if you could just finish your story."

"It's almost done," said Harry. "I didn't have much to do but nap and wait. I tried to melt a bigger tunnel but it was taking forever. I spent a good three hours trying to enlarge the tunnel I came in to a fit size for a dragon before giving up. I only made it about a foot in. After what seemed like a week, I could feel that something was different. I decided to try to apparate again. It's a bit trickier, though, when you're a dragon. I just couldn't get the mental picture down. I could feel, though, that it _could_ work, if I was back to normal. That was the problem. With all the lava, if I turned back into a wizard, I'd die. If I didn't, I'd starve."

"So what did you do?" asked Honey. She was listening to Harry's story in much the same manner that Greta would.

"I decided to do the most dangerous thing I could think of," said Harry. "I needed to change into a wizard and have time to apparate before the lava got me. I figured that if I could transform, I could also apparate. If I jumped into the hole and changed, I might have enough time left to apparate. I was going to take a peek down the hole to see how deep it was, but when I was getting close, the decision was made for me. The floor collapsed, so, having nothing to lose, I turned back into me and apparated just before I hit."

"You're right," said Hermione. "That was the most dangerous thing you could have done. It was probably the only way out, though, so I'm glad it worked out."

"So was I," said Harry. "Anyway, after so much time in the volcano, I was famished. I was thinking about going to Casa Milia and getting something at the hotel when I noticed a field of sheep on the western slope. Nobody seemed to be minding them, so ..." He grinned, boyishly.

"Yes," said Hermione, slowly. "We still have to pay for that snack. I think that ten or fifteen galleons each would be fair. How many did you have?"

"Five, I think," said Harry. "Maybe six. We'll take care of that soon. So, after I had finished eating, it became a matter of getting back home. I was trying to remember where we apparated to in Rome when Winky showed up. I don't think I've ever been hugged so hard in my life. Slinky popped in a few seconds later."

"I think I saw her leave," said Hermione. "But that was near the beginning of the services. Why didn't you come straight back?"

"Because I didn't know you were in London," said Harry. "Winky didn't tell me, either. I asked her to take me back to Hogwarts and that's what she did. The three of us came back to our suite. I went to look for you but I couldn't find anyone. Well, a few Slytherins were about but I avoided them, of course. The school looked more or less deserted so I headed down here. Again, I couldn't find anyone. I called for Jumper but he didn't come." He looked at Jumper for clarification.

"Harry Potter is calling Jumper when bad wizards is being starting to attack, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "Hogwarts Free Elves isn't being able to be popping and is being busy fighting."

"Oh," said Harry. "I guess that's understandable. So I asked Winky where everyone was and she said that everyone was at a memorial service for Rufus."

"She what?' asked Rufus.

"I suppose she meant that you were hosting a memorial service," said Harry, "but sometimes it's hard to understand the specifics, if you know what I mean." He didn't want to come right out and say that house elves talk funny, but it was pretty clear that everyone, with the exception of Jumper, knew what he was talking about.

"Okay," said Hermione. "You knew where we were. Why didn't you apparate down?"

"I didn't know where the service was," explained Harry. "I asked Winky and that's when she told me about the attack. I guess she got the details from you, Jumper?"

"Yes," said Jumper. "Jumper is being using _The Voice _to be being talking with Winky. Jumper is being telling Winky and Winky is being telling Harry Potter."

"That's what I thought," said Harry. "It was clear that I wouldn't be able to fight everyone alone. I'm not sure why, but the herd just popped into my head. I asked Winky to find some volunteer house elves and be ready when I called. I then apparated to the lake and explained what was going on to everyone." He beamed at Rufus and Minerva before continuing. "The first question they asked was whether Greta was in danger. I told them that she was there and that was all it took. Apparently, she makes quite an impression."

"It's only fair," said Rufus. "Greta just loves them all to pieces."

"It's mutual," said Harry. "I called for the elves to join us. Jumper and his crew would provide directions for the trip and identify targets when we got there. One elf would be on each dragon to relay this information. I still had my goggles so speed wouldn't be a factor, with me. The rest of them formed a battle stream behind me and we took off. It was still afternoon, so we had to go in at a low altitude but at the speed we were achieving, no one would be able to recognize us, I hope."

"How fast do you think you were going?" asked Ron. He was, after all, the speed demon of the group.

"I think around two hundred or so," said Harry. "It took a couple of hours to get to London, at any rate. There was some sort of a strange cloud over that part of the country. About two miles out, I activated my theme song and started in."

"Your theme song?" asked about four people.

"Yes," said Harry, smiling. "Hermione enchanted a medallion to play this great fanfare for when I fly into battle."

"It's the theme to The Sea Hawk," said Hermione. "It was written over fifty years ago by Erich Korngold for a movie. It's heroic and very British so I thought Harry'd like it."

"I do," said Harry. "It adds ten miles per hour to my speed whenever I play it."

"It saved my life," said Hermione. "When I came out to face Voldemort, I heard you in the distance. I tell you, I've never ... I felt ..." She started to cry, again; beaming all the while.

Everyone waited for her to compose herself. When it didn't seem like that would be forthcoming, Minerva said, "I think that brings us up to what we know. Harry flew in with his friends behind him and routed Voldemort and the dementors, saving us all."

"Yes," said Rufus, "and then he made the blind see and the lame walk. The usual."

"More or less," said Harry, smirking. He then sobered up quite a bit. "I think we passed over the part where Curly was killed. What happened there, Jumper?"

"Curly was being helping fighting the bad wizards, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "Curly is being fighting two wizards when Curly is being calling for help. Before other elves is being helping Curly, two more wizards is being fighting Curly and Curly is being killed."

"Four Death Eaters attacked one elf?" asked Ron. "That's a bit of an overkill." Immediately recognizing what he had said, he blurted out, "Oh, I'm sorry, Jumper." He looked it, too.

"Jumper is understanding what Master Ron is saying," said Jumper. "Curly is saying that bad wizards is saying 'Elf here' when they is seeing Curly. Jumper is thinking that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is knowing about the Hogwarts Free Elves and how we is being helping Harry Potter."

"We've suspected as much," said Remus. "I guess there's no doubt, anymore."

"No," said Hermione. "It'll mean that they'll be in more danger than before."

"Jumper is being talking with other elves about this," said Jumper. "Slider, Sleepy and Curly is all being killed and is needing to be replaced. Jumper is being thinking that we is being needing to be adding many elves to Hogwarts Free Elves so that they is being ready when more is being killed. Is Mistress allowing this?" He looked to McGonagall for an answer.

"Oh, sure," said McGonagall, taken off guard. "I mean, well, do you ... of course, you do. I'm sorry, Jumper. I'm a bit flustered. You seem to be taking the loss of three of your number fairly well. As to your request; yes, you may bring as many as you think necessary to my office this evening, if you're ready by then."

"House elves is being ready, Mistress," said Jumper, with confidence.

"I'm counting on it," said Harry. "Now, if there isn't anything else, we have an appointment at two with Rita Skeeter. As much as I'd like to hear your stories, we need to prepare what we're going to tell her."

"There is something else," said Hermione. "Tonks. The Dursleys requested a meeting with their son, Dudley. He attends a private school called Smeltings. We were wondering if you could arrange that. Harry and I thought that if we hit Dudley with an Obliviate Tractus before telling him anything, then if things don't work out, we could just do an Obliviate Expleo and he wouldn't remember a bit of it."

"I'll look into it," said Tonks, jotting down the name of the school. "I'll let you know when I have a time and place."

"Fair enough," said Harry. "Now, once again, if there isn't anything else ..." He looked around.

"I have one last thing," said Rufus. He pulled a parchment out of his robes. It was fairly short and

tied with a black ribbon. He looked at it for a moment before standing. Walking over to Luna, he said, "I've heard more than one report about a Weasley boy who died holding off some Death Eaters so that others could escape. Although I had my doubts, this action finally convinced me of his sincerity. Normally, a single spontaneous act of courage like that, especially with death as a result, would be good enough for an Order of Merlin, Third Class. However, I'm not going to recommend any medals for Draco. In my opinion, though, he does deserve this." Rufus handed the scroll to Luna. "Ordinarily, I'd be giving this to his mother but, knowing her a bit better and longer than the rest of you, I'll pass up on that pleasure."

"Thank you, Minister," said Luna. She untied the ribbon and quickly read the scroll. Rolling it back up, she said, "You're right, Minister. I'm not sure how Mrs. Malfoy will react. I'll show it to her, anyway. For myself and Draco, however, I'd like to say that I appreciate this very much." Without further comment, she slipped the posthumous pardon into her robes.


	84. Chapter 84

Chapter 84 - The Pilgrims

November 5th, 1997

"Shouldn't you be talking to Harry?" Hermione was trying her best to figure out why Rita was pursuing her line of questioning while remaining humble.

Rita Skeeter didn't understand it either, but after receiving an owl from her editor while waiting for Harry Potter to arrive for his interview, she had no choice. Hermione was the new mystery woman to the readers of the Daily Prophet. She had, of course, had her share of coverage in the past, but only concerning her interactions with Harry Potter. Now, she was the headline.

Deciding how to maintain control of the situation, Rita tapped her quill, causing it to momentarily halt it's transcription. "I'll tell you what," said Rita, sarcastically, "You don't tell me how to write my story and I won't tell you how to charge You-Know-Who and his bodyguards." She smiled insincerely and tapped her quill, again. "Now, let's continue, shall we?"

Hermione grimaced but complied. "It's Hermione Jane Granger Potter."

"And your parents are?" continued Rita.

"Not to be identified," stated Hermione. "I'd prefer it if that question wasn't even included." She didn't wish for her parents to be brought to anyone's mind.

"It's already been reported that they were present," countered Rita. "In fact," she said, pulling out today's Daily Prophet, "they're in a photo on the third page." She showed the revealing photo to Hermione.

"I think a fair compromise would be to just say she's the daughter of muggles," suggested Harry, "without any other specifics." He looked at Hermione for comment, but she merely nodded.

"I suppose it'd be counter to the thrust of the story to emphasize such a severe shortcoming," agreed Rita. "Now," she continued before Hermione could fire up, "you've mentioned that you met Harry briefly on the Hogwarts Express, but that your actual friendship with Harry coincided with your first confrontation with the dangers of the magical world, just two months after your arrival at Hogwarts. A troll had gotten into the castle and, against the direct orders of Headmaster Dumbledore, you went after it alone." She looked up with an expression of actual interest and finished with, "Why did you do that?"

Hermione sighed. "I didn't do that, actually. I was already ..."

"Your current Headmistress had relayed that account during the official inquiry of the incident," said Rita. "Are you accusing her of lying while under oath?" This story might be more interesting than she had anticipated.

"No," said Hermione, quickly. She paused for a moment before continuing, "I had lied to her. I was already in the bathroom when the troll walked in. I never heard Professor Dumbledore's orders."

"Why would you lie about that?" asked Rita.

"Well," began Hermione, "Harry and Ron knew where I was and had come to tell me about the troll. By wild coincidence, it had come down the hallway where the bathroom was and walked in."

"Why didn't you run out?" asked Rita.

"Ron and I locked the door," answered Harry, sheepishly.

"You locked yourselves in a bathroom with a troll?" asked Rita.

"No," said Harry. "We locked Hermione in the bathroom with a troll. Of course, we didn't know she was in there, at the time."

"I thought you went there specifically to warn her," stated Rita.

"We did," said Harry. "I guess it didn't occur to us that it was the girl's bathroom."

"Wasn't it marked?" asked Rita.

"Well, yes," answered Harry. "Look, we were idiots, alright? We locked the troll in the bathroom and went to tell someone when we heard Hermione screaming."

"How'd you do that, anyway," asked Rita.

"Do what?" asked Harry and Hermione, together.

"Lock her in," explained Rita. "Unusual, wasn't it, to have locks on public bathrooms? And with a key, as well? I would've thought that would have had students locking each other in all the time, for pranks."

"I don't know why there are locks on the bathrooms," said Hermione. "All I know is that it's pretty scary to be locked in one with a troll."

"So far," said Rita, "it seems that there wasn't anything to lie about. Why didn't you just tell the truth; that you were in the bathroom and Ron and Harry came to fetch you?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, getting angry. "I was only twelve and it made sense at the time."

"Calm down," said Rita, smiling. "I didn't mean to get you flustered."

"Liar," muttered Hermione.

"Look," said Harry, "we really don't have all day. Perhaps you could ask for more recent information."

"Okay," said Rita. "Where were you and why did everyone think you were dead?"

Harry and Hermione both looked at Rita, blankly. Eventually, Hermione said, "After the troll adventure, Harry, Ron and I had become friends. After that..."

* * *

About the same time, far below Hogwarts...

Luna, against the advice of nearly everyone who knew her destination, arrived alone in the sitting room of Narcissa Malfoy. She personally didn't think she'd be in any danger, but had made the slight concession of letting Jumper use _The Voice _to instruct Pounder, the current pseudo-attendant/guard for the unpredictable widow of Lucius Malfoy to discretely provide protection, should the need arise.

"Mistress Malfoy; you is being having a visitor," said Pounder. It was hardly necessary as she was sitting in her favorite chair, watching the ocean. The characteristic 'Whoosh' of Luna's arrival alerted her that she had company.

Turning in her chair, Mrs. Malfoy presented a stony face to Luna. The tracks of her tears, however, belied her deception. "Back again?" she asked, dispensing with any pretense of patience or compassion for her dead son's love. "Why can't you leave me in peace?" She spun her chair back to the sea.

Luna walked over to stand next to her, joining her in the view. She said nothing but merely watched as the occasional freighter made its way out into the unpredictable and merciless North Atlantic. Their returning sister ships seemed to be coming along at a faster clip, as a horse would when it nears its stable. Nearly ten minutes passed without a word from either of them. Finally, Narcissa could stand it no longer.

"Why did you come here?" she snapped. "To enjoy the view?" She gestured wildly at the window.

"It's a very nice view," said Luna. "I wouldn't mind spending some time watching with you, if that's what you'd like."

"What I'd like?" asked Narcissa, her voice rising to an almost comical pitch. "What I'd like? I'll tell you what I'd like. I'd like my son back. I'd like my sister and husband back, too, as long as we're wishing."

"I'd like that, too," said Luna. "We could add my mother into the package, as well. Unfortunately, neither of us will get our wishes. We have some planning to do, however. Draco deserves a proper funeral. I assume that there's some sort of a family cemetery somewhere, given the longevity and prestige of the Malfoy family." She waited for a reply.

Mrs. Malfoy wanted to have someone to lash out at. She had been in somewhat of a state of shock for quite a while after this morning's revelations. Luna's tale of her short time with Draco had, for a while, made it seem as if their love was something long past and enduring. In truth, it was still very much in the present and when she had been left to dwell on her most recent loss, she had slipped back into despair. Her nature lent itself to relieving her pent up frustrations onto whoever happened to be near. Luna, however, never seemed to want to take the bait. Her last statement, though, finally managed to burrow under the layers of fury and into her consciousness.

"Yes," she agreed. "Draco should be... properly..." She picked up her half empty glass of water before attempting to finish. Luna waited patiently. "We have to make arrangements. To whom do I need to speak in order to be released from my prison?"

Luna was no fool. She knew that the mere mention of Harry would set this witch off like a hurricane. "I'm not sure," she said. It was a white lie that she could live with. "Why don't we sketch out what you'd like and I'll see what I can do."

Narcissa thought about what Luna was asking of her. She had been notified of Draco's death mere hours earlier that very day. Yes; he needed to be buried and yes; she should be making most of the decisions, but not today. Today was made for looking out her window and watching the waves making their way into Donegal Bay. Each wave brought with it a memory of her son. The first time he looked up at her as a baby and smiled. His first step. His first word. The thought of that brought to mind his last words to her and hers to him. She had to come to grips with that, as well. Finally, she said, "Come back tomorrow. I... I want to ... well, just come back tomorrow."

Luna stood up. "I understand," she said, compassionately putting her hand on Narcissa's shoulder. "I'll check on transportation and security, if I can. We'll talk again tomorrow." She walked over towards the return icon by the mantle.

"Just a moment," said Narcissa, standing. She looked like she was about to follow Luna across the room but thought better of it. Instead, she said, "Thank you for coming to see me. It's been an awfully lonely day, today." She looked down, her tears queuing up.

"It doesn't have to be," said Luna. "I have all day. I'll stay with you for awhile, if you wish."

"Oh, please do," sobbed Draco's mother, succumbing once again, to her grief.

Luna rushed to give her a comforting hug. When Narcissa calmed a bit, Luna steered her back to her chair and the two of them spent an hour in mutual empathy.

* * *

Back in The Three Broomsticks, three hours later...

"I understand," said Rita. "Well, no, I don't. By your own admission, you only had the slimmest chance of surviving. Why didn't you just wait for Harry?"

"I didn't know that Harry was alive," said Hermione. "It wasn't until I was outside that I could hear him coming."

"Well, that makes it even harder to understand," said Rita, shaking her head. "I don't know of anyone who'd risk their life to save a stranger from You-Know-Who."

"That's funny," said Hermione, coldly, "I don't know of many who wouldn't." This extreme, but true, assessment of the differences between the types of people that Rita usually associated with in comparison to Hermione, caused the older witch to give a rare look inwards. Of course, that sort of introspection never lasted for long with those in the newspaper trade so Rita was back to normal in short order.

"Apparently, there are many people who think the way I do," said Rita. She pulled out the letter that had directed the course of this interview and showed it, without opening it, to Hermione. "According to Barnabus, at least fifty owls arrived this morning, burdened with letters from subscribers wanting to know more about you, your personal history and, most of all, how you managed to attack You-Know-Who, three of his Death Eaters as well as a dementor, rescued that girl and lived to tell the tale. I think that by reviewing your life as a whole, my readers might see how you've slowly risen to the point where you at least had a chance to pull that off. As far as I can remember, and I have an excellent memory, only Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore have surpassed that feat."

"I must say, Rita," said Harry, ignoring the compliment, "I'm actually glad we did this interview. Hermione's never received the recognition she deserves, always being in my shadow. I'm glad we could set the record straight."

"Glad to help," said Rita, realizing that she was getting far more flies with honey than vinegar with this couple. "Now, Harry, if we could move on to where you were and what you were doing."

Harry said, "We had a fantastic lie all worked out, Rita, but the truth is we can't and won't tell you anything resembling the truth. When this is all over, we'll talk."

Rita didn't argue. She had come to understand this couple during the course of the afternoon and knew that, at best, she could wheedle out the lie. Having several parchments to condense into a story, she let it go, for now. "Alright," she said. "I'll leave it there. There might be some other questions that come up in the next few days. Now that you know I can behave, can I count on some more interviews?"

"It depends on what you do with this one," said Hermione. She wasn't quite ready to let bygones be bygones.

"Oh, you'll like it, I think," said Rita. Packing up her things, she said, "Until next time," and left their private room.

Harry looked at his watch. "It's a quarter past five," he said. "Do you want to eat here or back at Hogwarts?"

Hermione looked out the window at the mid-autumn sky and said, "I think I'd like to take what might be the last moderately comfortable walk of the year back to the castle. We'll eat when we get there."

The two of them left the room and were halfway towards the door of the Three Broomsticks when Madam Rosmerta came up from the side and put her hand on Harry's arm. "Just a moment, Harry," she whispered, glancing about for eavesdroppers. She gestured for them to follow her to a relatively unpopulated corner of the pub.

"I just thought you'd better know," she began. "A pair of seedy looking wizards were in here earlier. I overheard them talking about heading up to Hogwarts. They didn't say much when I was near but I'm pretty sure I heard them say 'Potter" at least once."

"What do you mean by 'seedy looking'?" asked Hermione.

"Well," began Rosmerta, stroking her chin as she thought, "their hair was a little long; one had quite a bit of stubble on his face; their clothes had lots of snags and tears; that sort of thing.

"Doesn't sound like Death Eaters," opined Harry. He thought a moment before saying, "I suppose if they were heading up to Hogwarts, we'll find out what they want, soon enough."

"That is if it involves us at all," finished Hermione. They thanked Madam Rosmerta for the heads up and headed out into the moderate early evening air.

* * *

Around the same time in the Dark Lord's quarters

"Well?" asked Voldemort. Despite having watched a triple feature of his favorite movies, his mood was definitely not one of contentment.

"Both families appear to be gone," answered Snape. "Most of their belongings were left, it seems, but all heavy clothing has apparently been taken and little jewelry or other valuables were found. There were no signs of a struggle."

Voldemort apparently expected as much. His decision to send Snape on such a mission indicated that he suspected more than simple truancy. Handers and Olgleson, two of Snape's most trusted men, waited quietly off to the side as the Dark Lord and his second discussed the failure of two Death Eaters to report for duty.

"It's still possible that something unexpected came up and that they'll..." began Snape, perhaps exaggerating a bit on the odds of that being the case.

"In normal times," interrupted Voldemort, "I might allow for the possibility. In this case, however, it is just too much of a coincidence. The day after Potter returns, to have two fairly loyal men going missing, along with their families, is highly unlikely. No; they're attempting to desert."

"Shall we begin to track them, Master?" asked Snape. He was so sure of Voldemort's response that he began to turn to retrieve the charm.

Voldemort thought for a second before saying, "No, Severus. Not yet. Some precautions need to be taken, first." Turning to the other two men, he added, "Say nothing of this to anyone. Report anyone who expresses more than a passing interest in the missing men to me, personally. You may go."

"Yes, Master," came the simultaneous response. The two second tier Death Eaters left the room.

Snape waited for what he thought was a suitable amount of time before asking, "What are your orders, Master?" He was always a bit more apprehensive when the Dark Lord came up with ideas completely on his own.

Ignoring the request for an immediate command, Voldemort instead decided to follow along a tangent, for a bit. "I'm concerned about the men, Severus," lied Voldemort. "With Potter on the move, they may need more protection than in the past. Their families, too, I suppose. Have all of my Death Eaters that aren't currently quartered in one of my strongholds moved in at once. Their families should join them, of course. You'll probably have to disperse them throughout the country but their safety is paramount."

Snape could feel the insincerity dripping off of his master's words but dared not comment. "Yes, Master," he said. "At once." He backed up one step before turning to leave the room.

"One moment, Severus," said Voldemort. "They may need help with the move. See that four of our regulars accompany each married man. We wouldn't want anyone to get lost."

* * *

A short time later on the road back to Hogwarts

Walking hand in hand, the Potters made their way back to the castle. The trees had, of course, managed to shed almost all of their leaves by now. This didn't prevent the moderately stiff breeze from shaking the branches and Harry and Hermione had resorted to placing warming charms on each other. As they approached the gates, the unusual sight of Hagrid sitting on a stone bench while reading the Daily Prophet greeted them. A moment later, Hagrid did the same.

"About time yer were gettin' back," said Hagrid, setting the paper on the bench. He placed his mug on top to prevent anything from blowing off. "I've 'ad ta be sittin' ere fer bloody two hours, now."

"Hagrid," asked Harry, "you know that we don't need you to open the gate for us, don't you?" Harry, as Hagrid was well aware, could have simply apparated Hermione and himself from one side to the other, or anywhere else he desired.

"Weren't you that needed letting in," explained Hagrid. "T'were d'other blokes." He thought for a moment; counting on his fingers before adding, "Five wizards an' a pair 'o witches. First one was this tall, old feller. Looked about a hundert year ol'. Says he's wanting to be seein' ya. Same fer d'others."

"See me?" asked Harry. He and Hermione exchanged glances before he asked, "Where are they, now?"

He looked around as if expecting the strangers to jump out from behind a tree.

"Professor McGonagall came'n took the fir' bloke up ter the castle," explained Hagrid. "Seemed ta be expectin' em, s'far's I could tell. Tol' me ter send the rest've em by elf. Said they'd be knowin' where ter take 'em."

"Well," said Hermione, "it couldn't have been anything urgent or she'd have sent for us. I suppose we'll find out what this is all about, soon enough."

"S'pose so," agreed Hagrid. "Bloody 'ell. 'Ere come s'nother'un." In the distance, a dark cloaked figure, presumably a female, but it wasn't possible to be sure at this distance, shuffled slowly down the road.

"It'll be a while before they get here," said Hermione, judging the distance and relative speed of the traveler. "I think we'd better check in with Minerva before we talk to anyone." She also wanted to get a bite to eat before any extended interruptions got in the way.

"Okay," agreed Harry. "We'll talk to you later, Hagrid." With that, Harry and Hermione headed up the walk to the front entrance. As it was approaching supper time, the other hardier souls who had braved the slight chill fall air to wander the grounds also made their way to the Great Hall. Through the main doors of Hogwarts, Harry caught site of Luna, presumably on her way to supper, but with an uncharacteristic slump in her shoulders. This was to be expected, of course, and he quickened their pace in an attempt to catch up with her. As they entered the foyer to the castle, however, it became clear that it wasn't the fact that Draco had died that was currently upsetting her. That job had been self-appointed by a few select Slytherins.

"Don't get me wrong," said Blaise, loudly. "I'm glad they were there to protect the more valuable students. Someone important might have been hurt if they hadn't rushed in."

"True enough," agreed Loren Longshanks, a swarthy sixth year that had recently joined Blaise's gang. "If a Slytherin had been killed instead of just a Gryffindor, the effect on the overall quality of the student body would have been quite severe. We were lucky it wasn't anyone that would be missed." The group laughed mercilessly, each trying to come up with the next jibe.

Luna's gait broke for a second as she heard this conversation. She was, of course, the target for their taunts. She nearly let her anger get the better of her, but she just wasn't that type of person. She could consider the source and let it go.

Harry, on the other hand, couldn't. Coming up behind the morons, he put a hand on the shoulders of both Blaise and Loren. Hermione, fearing the worst, pulled her wand and prepared to cast some healing charms.

"Boys," said Harry in a cheerful, understanding tone, "I'm pretty tolerant of people joking around, as you're well aware. I can just let most things slide off my back. However, I think you might want to drop this particular subject. You see, Luna's a friend of mine and, well, in a nutshell, if you make her cry, _I'll make you cry_." His tone dropped dramatically at the end of this sentence. He glanced wickedly at each of them before walking on. The Slytherins stopped in shocked silence, momentarily blocking the hallway.

"Excuse me," said a voice from behind them. Turning, they were confronted with the stern face of Hermione, her wand still at the ready in her hand. Blaise and his crew, deciding that they weren't quite as hungry as they had thought, made a hasty retreat.

Luna, having turned at the sound of Harry's voice, waited at the entrance to the Great Hall, smiling brightly as Harry came up to her. Harry stopped and formally offered her his arm. She hesitated when Hermione approached but when Hermione offered her arm, as well, Luna slipped a hand through each and walked between them to their customary seats. Although a spontaneous gesture, this acknowledgment of the closeness of their friendship was not lost on those that had teased the strange witch in the past. None of her possessions would go missing, this year.

* * *

Hermione's hopes for an uninterrupted meal before having to deal with the mysterious strangers was short lived. They had barely sat down when Headmistress McGonagall entered through a side door behind the teacher's dais and proceeded down the steps and directly to the Gryffindor table.

"Mr. Potter," she intoned, using her official, professorial voice.

Harry, having been trained well, immediately sat up in the proper position for an English gentleman. "Yes, Headmistress," he replied, wondering what was up.

"Calm down, Harry," said McGonagall, smiling. "Just checking to see if I still have it. I'd like for you to join Poppy and myself in the buttery for supper, if you don't mind."

"In the what?" asked Harry and Ron, together.

"The buttery," repeated Minerva. "It's the room just off to the side, in the back of the Great Hall." She pointed to a door half hidden by a tapestry. Harry, Ron and Honey all instinctively turned to Hermione.

"It's the room in a castle or manor used to store beverages for easy access to the dining hall," explained Hermione. "It's probably also connected in some way to the kitchens."

"Not anymore," corrected McGonagall. "The elves didn't need the passageway so it was blocked off during a remodel, at some point."

"I see," said Harry, having received more information than he needed. "Why are we eating there?"

"Because we have a lot to discuss," said McGonagall. "It isn't a secret meeting. There will, however, be several people joining us that had best remain out of sight, for now." She took one step backwards and said no more.

Harry, getting the hint, rose from his seat and, taking Hermione's hand, prepared to follow her. Honey and Ron had done the same.

"I'm not sure that the room can accommodate everyone," said Minerva, apparently surprised at the inclusion of the Weasleys.

"Oh," said Honey, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I thought that it was official business and Ron would need to be involved." She quickly moved to return to her seat.

"It is official business, as you said," said McGonagall, understanding that the misinterpretation was entirely natural. "It is more along the lines of the medical end of Harry's activities, though, than anything concerning Death Eaters and the like. Also, we've gained some more of these new guests since I decided the buttery would suffice. It's filling up fast."

"Nevertheless, I think they should join us," said Harry. "Ron often has some excellent ideas, despite the subject, and I could enlarge the room, anyway, if we need more space."

"Of course," said Minerva, turning to lead the way. Harry and Hermione followed quickly with a blushing Ron and beaming Honey bringing up the rear.

As Harry entered the side chamber, he was surprised to find Poppy sitting with seven strangers, eating what appeared to be a feast. Four roast turkeys, two hams, baskets of rolls, ears of corn, baked potatoes, string beans, puddings, salads, carrots, apples, cakes, pies, pitchers of milk, mead and butterbeer and a host of candies and crackers. Jumper and two other elves were busy serving and clearing, as needed. There seemed to be little room left at the table for the new arrivals.

Harry walked over towards the far end of the room, preparing to lengthen it to a fit size for a dozen people to eat, when a ragged man opposite him looked up over his goblet and cried out, "Harry Potter!" He haphazardly slapped his drink to the table. Springing to his feet, he jostled his way around the table as the other diners did their best to rise, as well.

"Please," shouted McGonagall. "Please return to your seats. There's no need to ... Harry will be joining us."

It was no use. Such was the excitement of all of the unknown souls, including one woman who appeared to be pushing a hundred, that Harry had to submit to several handshakes and more than a few hugs before they could attempt to control themselves. That might take awhile. Both of the women and two of the men were openly weeping while the first man to have spoken grabbed his chest and sank down to sit on a keg.

"I," began the oldest witch, still sobbing between her attempts to speak. "I just... can't believe... after all these years... almost over, now." She put her hands over her eyes.

"Mr. Potter," said the first man to have recognized him. He was fairly tall. Not quite as much so as Ron but he had a foot long beard that gave the illusion of greater height. He had long, gray hair but didn't seem much more than middle-aged. He began to talk, again, but had to stop and grin like a school boy. "Now that it's come to it, I don't know what to say." He looked around at the rest of the group and said, "I think the one question on all of our minds is 'When?' When can we get started?" Despite their recent feasting, all of the vagabonds looked at Harry with hungry eyes.

"I'm sorry?" asked Harry, confused. "What is it that you want to start?"

"But surely," said a moderately young man with a bushy, brown mustache. "Surely, you must know why we've made the trip to see you. Are you saying you might not help us?" The tone in the room quickly shifted from exuberance to confusion, agitation and anger.

"No," said Harry. "I'll help you, if I can. All of you. I just don't know what you want."

"Didn't you read the paper this morning, Harry?" It was Poppy. She deduced that he either hadn't read the paper or hadn't made the connection. Most likely it was the former. The comments made by Harry's friends before the attack were relegated to page nine, after all. "These people have come to you to be cured." Harry still didn't get it so she added, "They're all werewolves."

"Oh," said Harry; everything suddenly falling into place. He was feeling, well, he didn't know what he was feeling and just needed a moment.

Hermione didn't need a moment, though. She tightened up and cast a scathing glance in McGonagall's direction. "Could I have a word with you, Headmistress?" Her narrowed eyes didn't waver but her scowl gained traction.

"Of course, Her..., Mrs. Potter," said McGonagall, somewhat surprised at the tone she perceived. She looked expectantly nervous.

"Out here," said Hermione, walking past Ron and Honey and straight out the door without waiting for a response. Minerva meekly rose and silently followed.

"Uh, oh," muttered Poppy. Deciding to try to diffuse the situation in this room, she said, "Have a seat, Harry. You must be famished."

* * *

Hermione pulled the door shut and immediately asked in a harsh whisper, "How could you do this?"

"I didn't invite them," answered McGonagall, put back on her heels by the ferocity of Hermione's gaze. "They showed up on their own. I couldn't very well..."

"You know what I mean," countered Hermione. "You should have warned us. We might have thought of some way to stop this."

"I'm sorry," said McGonagall, a little affronted. "I assumed that Harry'd want to help..."

"Of course he'll want to help," said Hermione, a little louder and with more emotion. "That's the way he is." Her outrage was beginning to attract the attention of the other professors. Turning away from them, she re-lowered her voice and said, "You weren't there. When he cured Remus, it was..." She shuddered at the memory. "I was afraid it might seriously injure or even kill him. The way he collapsed to the floor and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. It was terrifying."

"The way you were talking about curing Greyback," said McGonagall, "I assumed that it wasn't all that dangerous."

"Harry agreed to cure Grayback in exchange for information that we wouldn't otherwise have a way to obtain," responded Hermione. "It's put us years ahead in our research and might prevent us from chasing ghosts down dangerous blind alleys. It was a fair bargain, but not an easy one."

Minerva looked on Hermione with compassionate eyes. She understood her anger but there was no help for it. "I'm not sure what we could have done differently, Hermione," she said. "The paper just came out this morning and we already have seven werewolves. By this weekend..."

"By this weekend, there'll be dozens, perhaps hundreds, more," finished Hermione. "The full moon is just a bit over a week away, too. They'll all want to be cured before then." She regained her scowl. "Where's Lupin? Why isn't he here?" She had a point.

"He should be on his way back from London," said McGonagall. "I owled him a couple of hours ago."

"This is his fault," said Hermione. "He just had to go on about how Harry cured him." She paced around in a circle. When she returned to McGonagall, she said, "Well, he can just tell these people that Harry's not going to do it. I won't let him kill himself." She abruptly stormed back into the buttery.

When she entered the room, she had to reorient herself to the new size. Harry had not only lengthened it; he had given it about five more feet of width, making it much more usable as an auxiliary dining room.

Harry was talking animatedly with those werewolves nearest him with Ron and Honey adding comments as they saw fit. The witch they had seen slowly walking in the distance had joined the group, as well.

"Hermione," said Harry, buoyantly, indicating the place he had saved for her next to himself. "We were just talking about getting started. If we do one of them tonight and one or two a day after that, we should have everyone cured before the full moon. What do you think?"

Hermione thought that she might kill Remus Lupin.


	85. Chapter 85

Chapter 85 - We're Not a Country Club

November 5th, 1997

Just after Supper

"Andy?" asked Narcissa, shortly after hearing the portkey's sound. She had looked up, having been coincidentally already facing the fireplace. "Is that really you, Andy?"

"Yes, Sissy," answered Andromeda Tonks, rushing to embrace her sister. They had not seen each other for years and had parted ways under less than ideal circumstances, but they were sisters, after all.

"Oh, Andy," said Narcissa, forgetting her old feuds and accepting her sister's comforting hug. "Andy. I'm so glad you're here. Did you hear?" It was a silly question, but a natural one.

"Of course," said Andy, with a commiserating tone. "I'm so sorry, Sissy. I didn't know Draco very well, what with... well, you know; but I'm sure you miss him terribly."

"It's all I can think of," said Narcissa, becoming quite depressed. She walked over to the sofa and sat down, turning away to compose herself. Andromeda quickly sat down next to her while the other two witches, Tonks (the younger) and Luna removed themselves to a pair of chairs on the opposite side of the room. Neither wanted to interrupt the conversation between the now formerly estranged sisters.

"Do you want to talk about it with me?" asked Andy. "Sometimes it helps to get it out of your system."

"Oh, I don't know, Andy," said Narcissa. "Everything's been happening so fast. I don't know if anyone that hasn't gone through such a thing could understand."

"You might have a point," said Andy. "I'd hate to even imagine how I'd feel if anything happened to my Nymph." She looked at her daughter as if to emphasize the point.

Both sisters sat silently, as if waiting for inspiration to strike.

"Perhaps you should start back a bit further," suggested Luna. "You've both lost a sister, as well. That might be the place to begin." They both, along with Nymphadora (sorry Tonks), were surprised by her suggestion but went with it.

"Well," began Andy, "I'd have to say it wasn't a surprise. At least not that it happened. It was a shock, of course, but that was the life she chose."

"She didn't choose to die," interjected Narcissa. "That Potter abomination murdered her."

"Now you know that isn't so," said Luna, calmly. "Everyone here knows that. Are you lying to yourself?"

"Why you... you..." stuttered Narcissa, looking about for something to throw.

"She's right, Sissy," said Andy, silently wondering who the young witch was and why she was here. "Bella died in battle."

"Can't you take her side, even now?" asked Narcissa, reigniting old rivalries. "You weren't there. How do you know what happened?"

"I don't," answered Andy. "I wasn't there. Neither were you. We can only go with what was reported in the papers. You'll have to admit, though; it sounded accurate."

"No," argued Narcissa. "Bella was... was..." she stopped talking and looked away.

"Bella went dark, Sissy," stated Andy, firmly. "She was taken in by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and he poisoned her soul until she was no longer the girl we knew. She'd murder her own children if ..."

"No!" shouted Narcissa, standing, "It's not true. She was still..." She had the memory of a trip she had made with Bella to see Snape flood into her conscious thoughts. Bella had said that Narcissa should be proud that Draco was given a suicide mission. That she wished she had sons that could do the same.

There was another awkward silence. This time, it was Tonks that made the suggestion. "Maybe you need to start at the very beginning. Mum's only really told me about how she and Auntie Bella were shocked when Gran had another daughter when they were teenagers. What was it like from your point of view?"

Narcissa was a bit surprised at the increasing distance being placed between this conversation and the original topic; the death of Draco, but the thought of rehashing that topic was so distasteful that she willingly latched onto the given opportunity.

"It was wonderful," said Narcissa, smiling. "Between Mum and Andy and Bella, I always had someone to read to me or play games or just talk. Since I was the one being entertained, I got to choose what we'd do. I remember one time..."

And so began a lengthy reminiscence of better times; carefree days without pain or sorrow or the worries of the world. One story led to another, and before long, Narcissa was interspersing memories of Draco's childhood in with her stories. Nymphadora was also dutifully embarrassed by things her mother remembered her saying or doing when she was three. Luna was able to flesh out the man that she knew better than any of the others; the Draco who had finally found himself. Even Narcissa found pride in her heart when she showed her sister where the Minister of Magic had mentioned Draco's courage and compassion in his pardon. After all was said and done, it was decided that Narcissa would spend some time at the home of her surviving sister where they would both try to decide the next steps for Narcissa. Once that had been established, the task of planning Draco's funeral was undertaken. With the following steps already planned, it now seemed more like closing a chapter than ending a book. There would be a morning after and Narcissa could begin the second half of her life.

* * *

Later that night...

"So, do you want to do one potato, two potato or eenie, meenie, miney, moe?" The werewolves were having a discussion with Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Minerva and Poppy about determining the order that they would be cured. Ron and Honey had originally intended to join them but Honey had apparently been eating for three instead of two at the feast and they had decided to retire to their quarters to let her rest. Tonks also had other commitments since she and Lupin had been in London when Minerva's owl caught up to them. They were trying to persuade Andromeda Tonks, Narcissa's estranged sister, to come comfort her younger sibling. They were with her now, along with Luna.

It had rapidly become clear that all of the werewolves were trying to stack the cards in their favor. Ian Channing, a fairly young wizard with light brown hair and a full mustache, had offered this latest suggestion in order to try to end the discussion and just pick _some way _and get on with it.

"We'll go by time of arrival," stated Hermione with finality. There were several attempts to object but she continued. "I'll guarantee you that at least ten more show up tomorrow. If we go by height or age or length of your hair or ability to pay, one or more of them could jump ahead of one of you. Would you like to take that chance?" She looked around for any takers.

"No," muttered two of the group, simultaneously. The rest nodded their heads in grudging agreement.

"Then we're agreed," said Hermione. She sighed. With yet another scathing glance at Remus, she said, "Chad. You're up." She stood up and drew her wand. Poppy, surprised at the suddenness of the action, paused for just a moment before doing the same.

Harry walked over to the padded mats that Hermione had conjured. He had hobbled around for an hour or two after he had cured Remus. With an unknown number of werewolves likely to show up during the next few weeks, he was sure his knees would appreciate her thoughtfulness. Chadwick Phellen, the tallest member of the group with a slight resemblance to Dumbledore due to his long, gray beard, nearly sprinted over to join Harry.

"Any time you're ready, Harry," he said, his twisted, yellow teeth nearly all exposed from his wide smile. Remus, Poppy and Hermione followed more slowly with the rest of the party `gathering, with the informal guidance of Minerva, at a suitable distance to observe without being in the way. The three most aged members of the group, the eighty-eight year old Magena Jewel, the eighty-nine year old Ararna Reule and the Ninety-two year old Amaris Felting all quickly found the edge of an empty bed upon which to sit.

"Now try to remember," explained Remus to Chad, "this is going to be extremely hard on you. The initial flash of pain is so intense that you _will_ collapse and you might even pass out, so be prepared." He indicated that Chad should position himself near the center of the mats.

"How does it compare to the change?" asked Chad, looking for a reference with what he was, with luck, about to become free of.

"It's quicker," said Remus, thinking, "that's for sure. I'd say once the first burst is over, it's about half again as painful as the change. Maybe a bit more."

"Okay," acknowledged Chad, a bit more seriously. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm down and then nodded his head as a sign that he was ready.

"Good luck," said Harry. He offered his hand to the older wizard.

Chad delayed a moment before taking Harry's hand and shaking it with solemnity. Werewolves were seldom in company polite enough for handshakes.

"Let's go," said Harry. He held out his arms, his sleeves bare. Chad, unable to contain it, let out a laugh and did the same. Hermione and Poppy placed their wands as they had once before and, again on the count of three, began the transfusion.

"Ahh!" cried out Chad in shock as his eyes bulged in their sockets. Despite the warning, he was surprised at the absolute intensity of the moment of contact. Along with Harry, he collapsed to the mats. Harry stopped at his knees, like before, but Chad wasn't as young as Remus and almost splayed out before Remus caught hold of him and held him in position. The convulsions continued but there were no further cries.

Harry, although also in great pain, had experienced it before and was somewhat more prepared. His body shook involuntarily but his face, despite only showing the whites of his eyeballs, revealed great concentration. With unwavering determination, he fought against the lycanthropic cells. The deep red tone of his skin proved the intensity of the battle. Chad, while having Remus supporting him, still slumped much further than Harry. The veins of his neck threatened to burst from the pressure. His breathing came erratically but forcefully; sucking in and expelling great quantities of air like a diver coming up after a long submergence.

The main participants of this drama were otherwise occupied or they might have noticed the reactions that the other werewolves, particularly the aged Amaris, were having. It was fortunate that she was already seated or she would have most assuredly dropped to the floor in shock. Her mouth hung open and her face was as pale as the moon. She was both petrified and entranced. The one thought that ran through her mind, over and over, was 'Will I survive the cure?'. There was only one way to find out, of course.

Meanwhile, the battle being waged on the mats was going full force. Harry was shaking, now, but not from any chill. The effort to destroy the targeted blood cells was being won but it wasn't any easier than last time. Chad was fading in and out of consciousness, a small trickle of blood dripping down from each ear. He was just along for the ride and unable to contribute to the struggle.

Finally, after five minutes had passed, the tension engulfing Harry's body began to ease. His breathing became more regular and the shaking stopped. With a few deep breaths, he opened his eyes and nodded to Poppy and Hermione. They coordinated the removal of their wands and it was finally over. Poppy cast her wand first over Harry and then over Chad.

"Open his mouth," she commanded, addressing Remus. Remus complied and Poppy poured a portion of a potion down his throat.

Coughing, Chad managed to open his eyes and look up. At first he was confused, but he came around quickly and asked, "Is it over?" His voice was rasping from the potion and he was still weak from the exertion of the cure.

"Yes," said Poppy. "Open up and drink the rest of this." Chad reached up to take the flask and drained it.

"That's good," said Poppy. "You have to finish off two more of those in the next five minutes. Here you go." She handed him the next flask. She had learned from Remus that a massive dose of iron administered as soon as possible was needed for a speedier recovery.

"Am I cured?" asked Chad, before taking another sip. He looked at her with the longing known only to the cursed.

"Of course," said Poppy, smiling. "Now drink that up. I'll get the next one." She stood up as Chad, still sitting on the floor, began to cry, as Remus had done, uncontrollably.

"Come along now," said Remus, gently helping Chad with the potion. "She's not kidding. I was weak as a kitten for days. Drink that up and you'll be feeling better in no time." Chad nodded and drained the second flask despite the tears.

The others came over, examining Chad as if he were a man from Mars. Hermione and Minerva backed away as they gathered around. Red headed Bortan Lowell knelt down and put his arms around Chad, joining him with his own tears. Candra Rolding did the same on the other side. One by one, they instinctively joined into the group hug; reveling in Chad's moment, knowing that they would all soon share the same. Remus was one of them and thus understood the nature of the support group. Only those that had walked in the shoes of a werewolf could understand what it meant to be free, at last.

Well, there was one other. Harry, alone and unhelped, rose to his feet, staggering slightly. Hermione was brought out of her distraction and rushed over to hug him fiercely. "Oh, Harry," she cried, and kissed him passionately. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand, now. I understand." She kissed him again. "I love you."

"That's nice," said Harry. "Let's go to bed." At Hermione's shocked and somewhat scandalized look, considering there were strangers nearby, he added, "I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"Oh," said Hermione.

"Thank you, Master," said Chad, taking Harry's hand. "Thank you. Thank you." He was still on his knees but seemed to be recovering faster than Remus had done. He held the third flask in his other hand.

"You're welcome," said Harry. "I should be okay to do the next one by the morning. Who was the second to arrive?" He scanned the faces of the shocked remaining werewolves.

"That would be me," said Ian. He paused a moment before asking, "I... I'm not sure..." He took a moment to compose himself before stating, "That seemed to be very hard on you. I mean, ah, are you sure you'll be ready to do it again so soon?" He had a concerned look on his face that was mirrored by the rest of the group. After witnessing the spectacle, they all wondered whether Harry would be willing, or even able, to repeat the feat with the rest of them.

"I recover pretty fast," said Harry with a laugh. "Don't worry about it. Compared to being on fire, this just tickled." He chuckled at the confused looks he saw but failed to notice the shocked expression that Minerva sported, having just been given an accurate indication of the true price Harry had paid for her rescue.

"Drink that up," said Poppy to Chad. "With any luck at all, you'll be fit to leave on Friday but only if you _do as I say_." She said the last four words with particular emphasis.

"Yes, ma'am," said Chad, obediently beginning his third potion.

Poppy started to address the other werewolves but was distracted. "Are you feeling alright, Minerva?" she asked. She stepped over to take a closer look at the ashen faced headmistress.

"Me?" asked Minerva, distracted. "Oh, I'm fine, Poppy. Just a bit shaken up, I guess." She didn't mention what it was that had disturbed her.

"That's understandable," said Poppy. "It's pretty disturbing to watch this sort of thing." Returning her attention to her latest patient, she said, "Mr. Phellan needs some rest, now, more than anything else. The rest of you should probably get to bed, too. Tomorrow will be another big day." She began to prepare a bed for her newest patient.

The uncured werewolves looked at each other. Aaron Woolsey, a shortish man with black sideburns that were beginning to gray, said, "I suppose there might be enough rooms at The Three Broomsticks." They had come to be cured and hadn't taken into account the possibility that they might have to wait days for the opportunity.

"Could we double up?" asked Magena Jewel. "I didn't bring much money." In truth, she had brought all that she had. It would, at best, pay for two nights in a decent room.

"That won't be necessary," said Harry. "I have facilities for dozens, if necessary. Let's see; none of you are married, are you?" There was a general burst of laughter.

"Who'd be crazy enough to marry a werewolf?" asked Candra Rolding. She was, by far, the only witch in the group that was still young and pretty enough to have a chance of attracting a husband in the normal way.

"I've only met one person _that_ nutters," said Remus, smiling. When they all looked at him for elaboration, he said, "My fiancée, Tonks, accepted my proposal a few months ago."

"She agreed to marry you _before_ Harry cured you?" asked Magena. "My, she _is_ nutters.""Actually," said Harry, "the people that know them both think it's Remus that's crazy." There was another round of laughter with Remus good-naturedly joining in. "Now, to get back on track, I have some dormitories that are basically a room with a bed. They'd do in a pinch. Since you won't be here for long, though, we also have a couple of nice flats. We could put the men up in one and the ladies in the other, if that would be okay with everyone."

It was. In short order, Hermione had given the attending elves proper instructions. With hugs all around, they were transported to their flats.

Harry managed to hang around until they had all left, despite his stated desire to get some rest. Hermione wondered at this but remained silent after he had brushed off three openings she had provided conversationally for him to declare that he was off to bed. Minerva noticed this and waited, as well. Finally, when the room was werewolf free, he opened up about his concerns.

Harry approached the latest ex-werewolf and sat on the edge of the bed opposite him. "Chad," he said, gravely, "you're about average, as far as the ages of the people in this group are concerned. How hard was it for you? I mean, how did you feel during the transfusion?"

Chad looked at Harry for a bit before thinking about the question. "You're worried that a few of us won't make it, aren't you?" He realized that Harry didn't really need his stated question answered but the underlying one.

"Yes," said Harry. "Ararna, Amaris and Magena are all quite old. Even Aaron isn't all that young. Do you think they can take the strain?"

"To tell you the truth, I doubt it." Chad lay back, thinking about each of the older werewolves. "Amaris, especially, won't stand a chance."

"I had that suspicion from the moment I saw her," confided Remus. "I'm not sure what to do about it. As you've no doubt figured out, losing hope is much worse than never having it."

"Do you want to run that by me, again?" asked Harry. He was tired and didn't want to work too strenuously on such metaphysical conundrums.

"Greyback," said Poppy. "From what I understand, you promised to cure him. He knew you could do it and had hope."

"That's right," said Remus. "To a werewolf, being rid of the monthly torment is their greatest, and until recently, most unrealistic dream. Greyback put everything into his reports. He wanted it to be enough and he eventually must have gathered that he had met his end of the bargain. Believe me; he could taste the cure. He could even hope that he'd suffered his last transformation."

"And then Harry 'died'," said Minerva.

"Exactly," said Remus. "His hope to be normal, again, died with you. I'm no supporter of Greyback, but I wouldn't wish that sort of a letdown on my worst enemy."

"It nearly killed him," agreed Harry. "So you're saying that Amaris might be dead, either way?"

"She might," said Poppy, "but I haven't been a nurse this long without having a few tricks up my sleeves. There are a few things we could do. The first thing that comes to mind is also the simplest solution. A youth potion is very hard on your nervous system and only last a short while but there would be a much lower chance of death than without it. I think that the older ones would have a decent chance if we gave them one before the attempt."

"Brilliant," said Hermione, beaming at the nurse. "I'll bet that's the ticket. You've really earned your pay tonight, Poppy."

"Not yet," said Poppy. "I still have one thing left to do." She looked at Harry and ordered, "Get To Bed."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry and the group broke up for the night. Remus used Poppy's icon to return to the fortress. Minerva could have done the same to travel to her office but chose to walk with the Potters instead.

After they had begun walking down a deserted hallway, Minerva tugged on Harry's sleeve and indicated that they should have a seat on one of the available benches. When all three of them were comfortable, she told them what was on her mind.

"Harry," she began, "I just wanted to, well, I don't know. What you said in there, about burning being much more painful than curing lycanthropy. I just don't know what to say."

"Why would you need to say anything?" asked Harry.

"Well," answered Minerva, "what you just did was horrible to watch and seemed to be nearly unbearable for Chad to endure, even once. It doesn't seem to be any easier on you than him yet you're willing to suffer that pain over and over."

"That's the price of helping them," said Harry. "I've done it once and lived so when the pain gets to be out of control, I just tell myself that it won't kill me and move on."

"Harry," said Minerva, trying to get her point out, "I wouldn't have expected you to suffer even that much pain to cure me. How could you have allowed yourself to be burned, which, in retrospect, I should have known was much worse than you let on? I don't think anyone else could summon the willpower to have done so much for another."

Harry had an image pop into his head of a night he spent in a graveyard. There was a good example to be had which might help explain it to Minerva. "Sometimes you just do what you have to do, Minerva," said Harry. "When Peter helped bring back Voldemort, he had to cut off his own right hand. I'm not sure I could do that under any circumstances."

"It does defy belief, doesn't it," agreed Minerva.

"Yes," said Harry. "Now, without going into dark magic as Peter did, if you could have saved Grampa before he died but you would have had to cut off your own left pinky to do so, would you have done it or would you have let him die?"

Minerva instinctively examined her left hand. Unsure of why Harry asked this, she said, "I might have. I think if I had time to think it through, I probably would have done so. I don't see where that's relevant, though."

Harry held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. "I still have my left pinky," he said, smiling. "You see, I didn't do as much as you would have, if you had needed to."

Minerva looked down, still unsure of what to think.

Hermione said, "If it makes you feel any better, Minerva, Harry may have merged with Fawkes just to save you but he's helped so many others since then that you can't really hold yourself solely responsible, anymore."

"I supposed not," she said. "At the time I didn't fully understand the cost. I still don't, but I do appreciate that you were willing to pay it." She gestured back towards the hospital wing and added, "I'm sure he does, too."

Without further comment, the three of them rose and continued on their way.

* * *

Just after Midnight

November 6th, 1997

Pop.

"Harry Potter," said Jumper, "there is being a Death Eater at Hogwarts."

"Wha...?" asked Harry. He had been very deep in sleep.

"Bloody hell," muttered Hermione. "Why can't they stop by during the day?" She cleared her head and asked, "How many are there?'

"There is being one Death Eater at the gates, Mistress Hermione," replied Jumper.

Hermione looked at Harry. He had fallen back asleep. Lowering her voice, she said, "Harry's had a hard night and has another cure to do in the morning, Jumper. Do you think your team could capture him?" If the truth were known, she had had a long day, too.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," said Jumper, humbly. "We is being able to be being capturing this Death Eater."

"Fine," said Hermione. "Take his wand and put him in a cell in the northern fortress. We'll interview him in the morning."

"Yes, Mistress," said Jumper and popped off. Hermione slumped back down into place and tried to fall asleep. After a few minutes of fidgeting, she realized the problem and pulled Harry's right hand over to the slot in her nightgown. He instinctively slid it into its accustomed position and they were soon both quite comfortably asleep.

* * *

Forty minutes later...

Knock. Knock. Knock. It had been quite a while since anyone had knocked on the door of the Head's Suite. As it was also in the middle of the night, the rarity was enhanced. The excitement level of such an infrequent occurrence wasn't sufficient to rouse the exhausted couple engaged in professional level somnolence so the knocker had to resort to other methods.

"Administratium Primus," intoned the voice from the other side of the door. A slight push allowed the headmistress to enter the small sitting room. She paused a moment to detect any sounds which might indicate that the Potters were otherwise engaged. Hearing none, she approached their open bedroom door.

Pop. "Master and Mistress are being sleeping," said Winky with the beginnings of a yawn that she was able to suppress. "Headmistress should be being coming back later." She stood between McGonagall and the bedroom.

"I'm afraid that I must disturb them," said McGonagall. "There is some urgent business that we need to discuss."

"Master is being very tired," argued Winky. "Mistress is being saying so." She thought for a second and offered a compromise. "Winky is being waking Mistress, Headmistress. Mistress is being deciding if Master is being needing to be waking."

"You do that," agreed Minerva. She wasn't exactly awake yet, either, and didn't need to deal with a drowsy Harry.

Winky went into the bedroom and gently prodded Hermione. "Mistress," she whispered. "Mistress is being having company." She nudged Hermione, again.

"What?" asked Hermione, waking slightly. "Winky?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky. "Mistress has a guest."

Hermione sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"It is being nearly one o'clock, Mistress," answered Winky.

"What kind of inconsiderate bloody idiot comes by to visit at this time of night?" asked Hermione, irritably.

"That would be me," said McGonagall. She didn't get mad. She knew that she'd just reacted almost the same as Hermione when Jumper had delivered Hagrid's message, minutes earlier.

"Headmistress!" shouted Hermione, jumping up and throwing on her robe. She then threw the sheets over Harry, still sleeping in just his boxers.

"What!" shouted Harry, alarmed. He saw Hermione standing by the door and then caught the eye of Minerva. "Minerva," he said. "I, ah, is something wrong?"

"Yes," said Minerva. "I've just received a report that some elves, who've been described as wearing red robes, attacked a family and kidnaped the father just outside of the gates of Hogwarts."

"What?" exclaimed Harry. "Our elves?" He'd like to get up and throw on his robe but felt inhibited by the presence of the Headmistress.

"Yes," answered Minerva. "Jumper has verified this story and informed me that he was working under your orders."

"What?" exclaimed Harry, repetitiously.

"They were my orders, I'm afraid," said Hermione, coming to understand the misunderstanding. "I didn't know it was a whole family. Jumper just said that there was a Death Eater at the gates."

"When did this all happen?" asked Harry.

"About an hour ago," answered Hermione. "I knew you were exhausted so I just asked Jumper to take him to the northern fortress until morning."

"I see," said Harry and Minerva, simultaneously. They looked at each other.

"Jumper," said Hermione, using her summoning voice but neglecting to ask politely.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," said Jumper. "What can Jumper be doing for Mistress?"

"You can tell me why you didn't mention that the Death Eater had his family with him," answered Hermione.

"Jumper wasn't knowing, Mistress," answered Jumper. "Only the Death Eater is being showing on the magic map." It was true. Hogwarts was one of the few maps still left on Death Eater Only mode after the dark marks were removed. There were too many students and staff around to be able to distinguish any unknown guests.

Hermione knew better than to ask why he didn't inform her of this fact after he had found out. Elves just don't think that way. He had his orders and carried them out. "Very well, Jumper," said Hermione. "Stick around for a moment, please."

"Yes, Mistress," said Jumper and took two steps back from the group.

"Minerva," asked Hermione. "Where's the rest of the family?"

"They're in the hospital wing, for now," answered Minerva. "Poppy's looking after them."

"I suppose we'd better go get their story," said Hermione. She looked at her husband. "If you're too tired, Harry, just stay here. We'll ..."

"I'm fine," said Harry, quickly. "I don't know why you didn't wake me the first time. I'd have been in on the capture and we wouldn't have had to ruin Minerva's night, as well."

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, somewhat upset at being rebuked for letting him get the rest she thought he had needed. "It just didn't seem like anything that couldn't have waited until morning."

"Just so we're both on the same page," said Harry, "in the future, I'd appreciate it if you'd wake me when Death Eaters are attacking." His tone was definitely a bit condescending.

"They weren't attacking," said Hermione, "and it was just the one, anyway."

"Excuse me," said Minerva, forcefully. "Could we go see the wife and find out what's going on?"

"Oh, sorry," said Harry, brought back to reality. "Sure. Let's go see her." He started to get up but stopped. Looking at his bare legs sticking out from under the sheets, he added, "If you'd give us just a moment, Headmistress."

McGonagall stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. She smiled at the thought that at least she was now even with Harry as far as being caught in just a sheet.

* * *

A Short Time Later in the Hospital Wing

Harry, Hermione, Minerva and Jumper had no more than stepped into the hospital wing when they were accosted by what must have been the mother of the captured family.

"Where's my husband?" The short, stout witch was holding onto her youngest, currently sleeping in her arms, while her two older children kept wandering away, trying to explore interesting corners of the hospital wing only to be summoned back to her side. Despite her multiple areas of attention, she was quite adamant about getting some answers.

"He's safe," said Harry. "He's currently in a cell near the North Pole."

"He'll freeze!" shouted the woman, waking her little girl. "We've got to..."

"He's fine," said Hermione, exasperated. "It's quite warm enough. Did you think we'd keep them outside?"

"How should I know?" asked the woman. "Seth! Leave that alone." She didn't seem to be the type to have time to think things through logically. Poppy rushed over to steady the shelves that the boys had found so facinating.

"He's fine," repeated Hermione. "We'll discuss everything later, but for now we'd just like to know a few things. First of all; what are your names?" She had a quill and parchment at the ready.

The woman, who did have a name, hesitated for a moment, but decided that this first request wasn't unreasonable and answered, "I'm Cathy Diben. My husband is Joe Diben. Our children are Seth, Jerome and Tracy." She indicated the children as she named them. Tracy had fallen asleep, again, but Seth and Jerome remained active, to put it mildly.

"Okay, Cathy," said Hermione. "I assume you and your family have come to us for protection. Is that correct?"

"Protection?" asked Cathy. "I don't know about that. Joe said that Harry Potter might not kill him if he surrendered. He was pretty scared when Potter came back and all those dragons were killing our friends. Came home and told me to grab some cloaks and the kids and we left before I could think."

"Well, you came here," said Minerva, "so Joe must have done some thinking. It was a good choice, by the way. We'll protect you and your children from any reprisals from Voldemort."

"Ahhh!" screamed the woman. All of her children were startled by her shout and the youngest started to cry.

"What?" shouted Harry, standing with his wand drawn.

"We shouldn't say You-Know-Who's name in front of her," warned Hermione. Turning to Cathy, she asked, "Do you prefer You-Know-Who or The Dark Lord?"

"You-Know-Who," replied Cathy, still shaken.

"Fine," said Harry. "Was your husband specifically in any immediate danger from What's-His-Name that he had to leave quickly or was it the attack at Diagon Alley in general that made him leave?"

"I'm not sure," said Cathy. "I don't think You-Know-Who was mad at him. In fact, he got promoted, recently. He's on a special team whose job is to specifically attack Harry Potter whenever they see him." She said this with a tinge of pride in her voice at her husband's 'advancement' in the Death Eaters.

"That's why he still has the Dark Mark," said Hermione to Harry. She had just realized that that was why he had shown up on the map. She must have been pretty tired not to have thought of that before.

"So he's one of the id...," broke off Harry, realizing the man's wife and children were listening. "One of the 'special forces' that we saw in that other bloke's memory."

"That's right," said Hermione. Turning back to Cathy, she said, "You and your children are the first willing Death Eater family we've come across. Let's see; do you know Narcissa Malfoy?"

"We've met," said Cathy. "I don't think she'd remember me, though."

"You weren't planning on making them roommates, were you?" asked Harry.

"I was considering it," answered Hermione.

"Mrs. Malfoy will be leaving to stay with Andromeda after Draco's funeral," said Minerva. "Tonks and Remus stopped by my office before they headed back to London."

"Well," said Hermione, "that flat should be available, then." She started to make a note on her parchment.

"It won't do," said Harry. At Hermione's and Minerva's questioning looks, he said, "Joe won't be staying with his family. He's still a Death Eater and will be treated as one. He should be able to be put in a cell in the main fortress if his arm is all that's being used to identify him. As for Cathy, here, and the children, something else will have to be worked out."

"What's wrong with giving them the flat?" asked Hermione. "I thought they were meant for families."

"Technically, they were meant for families that had been attacked by, or were in hiding from, Voldemort," corrected Harry.

"Ahhh!" shouted Cathy, again. Her nerves were on edge, anyway, from listening to them discussing her family's fate.

"Sorry," said Harry. "But that isn't the problem," continued Harry as if the interruption hadn't occurred. "The children will need to get outside at least a few times a week. That flat isn't set up for that. One of the newer ones would be better but I'm not sure we want to set the precedent of mixing Death Eater families in with the general population."

"Then what should we do with them?" asked Minerva. It _was_ a dilemma.

"Jumper," asked Harry, "do we have any two or three bedroom flats available in the fortress?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper. "There is ..."

"You... you're Harry Potter?" asked Cathy, in alarm. She backed away, shielding her daughter as if expecting Harry to suddenly attack them.

Everyone looked at her in shocked surprise. Joe Diben might have qualified for his 'promotion' by being one of the dullest knives in Voldemort's drawer, but Cathy was more like a spoon.

"You didn't know who I was?" asked Harry. Normally, that would have been an arrogant question but they had been talking to the woman at close range for several minutes. Had she really not noticed to whom she was speaking?

"I, I didn't recognize you," said Cathy, still shocked.

Now it was Harry's turn to be the focus of everyone's attention. He had been woken in the middle of the night and was wearing a bathrobe and slippers. His hair, disheveled on a good day, was positively schizophrenic. He certainly didn't look like the dashing young man in the papers.

"I suppose we should have introduced ourselves," said Hermione. "I'm Harry's wife, Hermione; that's Harry Potter; this is Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and that's Jumper." She wasn't inclined to spend too much time on the subject.

"Fine," said Harry. "For tonight, you'll be taken to a nice flat. Your husband will stay where he is, for now. I'd expect he'll be coming back to Scotland sometime tomorrow. Jumper. See that they're transported to one of the three bedroom flats and see to their needs. We'll figure the rest out in the morning."

The abruptness of Harry's pronouncements caught everyone by surprise. Everyone, that is, except for Jumper.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper. He paused for a few seconds and was then joined by four more of the Hogwarts Free Elves. They would need their rings, of course, to enter any part of the fortress.

"Jumper and these other elves will take you someplace safe," said Harry. "If you need food or anything, just ask."

Cathy Diben was still more afraid of Harry Potter than anything else but it didn't look like they'd all be cooked for breakfast. With a nervous glance at the other main players, she said, "Well, I suppose I should get the children in bed." She didn't feel like she was among friends so she left it at that. Jumper silently directed his fellow elves and the Dibens were all gone in short order.

"I'm surprised," said Harry. "When even the cannon fodder knows that it's time to leave Voldemort, you'd think we'd have more refugees than just this one family."

"Give them time, Harry," said Hermione. "Once they start seeing some families disappearing, others will get the idea."

"I suppose so," agreed Harry. "Well, off to bed." The Potters headed back to bed as well as both of the older witches. Minerva decided to just stay at Hogwarts so as not to wake Rufus with her return. Within a half hour, though, she found that she had the same problem that Hermione had discovered an hour earlier and flooed off to London.

* * *

Three o'clock in the morning, in the large hall of Riddle Manor

"So you thought you could just leave, did you? Just turn in your notice and no hard feelings? We're not a country club, Smithers." Voldemort walked around the terrified family, bound as they were to three granite pillars conjured by the Dark Lord. He was concentrating his gaze most upon Ted Smithers, but glanced from time to time at his wife, Gloria and child, Laura. Ted and Gloria both knew to remain as calm and quiet as possible, but little Laura was only five and was sobbing, loudly.

Voldemort had pursued the two errant families after the rest of his married Death Eaters had all been hastily relocated to his various strongholds. His most loyal followers now supervised their families while the Death Eater members had been summoned for a demonstration. With the Dibens securing admittance to Hogwarts mere moments before the pursuit team had arrived to return them, it fell to Ted Smithers and his family to be the subject of this lesson. Diben would be given punishment of a different kind.

"Your first loyalty is to me," said Voldemort, coldly. "Your second is to those in my Inner Circle. After those obligations are met, you may see to the needs of your families. If you become confused on these points, I will correct you." There was silence in the room as those assembled waited to see what sort of 'correction' would be applied to Smithers.

"I understand, Master," cried Smithers. "I was weak but I understand, now, Master. Please forgive me, Master." He was sobbing, himself, as he begged for the lives of his family.

"I know you understand," stated Voldemort, "but I want to make sure that everyone else also understands the consequences of betraying me." He turned towards the far door and raised his hand. Macnair walked into the room; axe already in hand.

"NO!" screamed Gloria. She struggled fruitlessly with the bindings. "Help us!" she shouted, looking from one Death Eater to another, hoping that someone might have the courage to save them. None did.

"Daddy!" shouted little Laura, brought to hysterics by her mother's reaction.

"Don't hurt my family, Master," begged Ted. He knew he was a dead man but didn't want to see them hurt. "Please, Master. Have mercy."

"You've tried to leave me," snarled Voldemort pitilessly. "You've put your own miserable life and the lives of your pathetic family above your duty to serve me." He stepped back to speak to Macnair.

"It won't happen again, Master," begged Smithers. "I'll be loyal. I'll serve you well."

"Liar," snapped Voldemort. "You'd run off at the first opportunity. You'd disobey me, time and again. Admit it!"

"No, Master!" pleaded Smithers. He had to shout over the cries of his wife and daughter. "I promise. I'll do whatever you say. Please, Master!"

"Prove it!" shouted Voldemort with a manic grin. He had led Smithers to make this rash promise. The Dark Lord raised his wand and released the restraints on Smithers.

"I will, Master," promised Smithers, surprised at the opportunity.

"Take Macnair's axe," commanded Voldemort, "and kill this woman and child." He pointed at Gloria and Laura.

"Kill them?" asked Smithers, a hollow sound in his voice.

"Prove your loyalty," said Voldemort. "Macnair; give Smithers your axe. If he refuses, kill them all."

"Yes, Master," said Macnair, smiling chillingly. He held out his axe.

"Master," said Smithers, "I can't... I...,"

"Macnair," said Voldemort. "Start with the girl. Do it from the ankles up, I think. There's no need to rush things, after all."

"Ted!" shouted Gloria. "Stop him, Ted. Stop him."

"Master!" cried Smithers, his eyesight becoming obscured by his own tears. "Have mercy."

"I have offered you all the mercy you shall receive," said Voldemort. "You have ten seconds to take it or leave it."

"Ted!" called Gloria, "you have to do it. Don't let Laura suffer." She slumped to the end of her bindings in total despair.

"Daddy!" shouted Laura. "I want to go home, Daddy! Take me home."

"Time's up," said Voldemort, smiling cruelly. "Mac..."

"I'll do it," choked out the broken man.

"Then do it," commanded the Dark Lord.

Ted Smithers, his face as white as the Cliffs of Dover, held out his hands and received the axe of Macnair. He turned and took first one step, and then another, towards his daughter. He raised the axe.

"DADDY!"

Author's note: This last section was difficult to write but I think it is something Voldemort would have done to prevent further defections. At least there is a little method to his madness.

For those of you who think the title is familiar, "M" said it to James Bond in "License to Kill" when James tried to resign. Voldemort would have liked that line, I think.

Dad


	86. Chapter 86

Chapter 86 - Heads Up

November 6th, 1997

Kamalia Lingley worked her way up the edge of the road leading to Hogwarts. She wasn't trying to sneak up, per se, and she wasn't 'up to no good', as the expression went, but she had gathered enough experience in her fifty-eight years to err on the side of caution; and that meant staying out of the public view.

At five-thirty in the morning, there wasn't much public to be avoided. This time of year, the darkness was still pretty complete. The moon might have helped a bit. Even a first quarter moon gave some illumination, but there was some homogenous cloud cover so only a vague outline of the world was revealed. Still, for her eyes, it was enough. She was almost there now, and had no desire for delay.

Unknown to her, for now, another outcast watched as she approached. Savan Mingan hadn't been on the lookout for any nocturnal travelers; far from it, but he happened to be looking in the right direction at the right time and saw her as she crossed over the stream on the old stone bridge. Since he wasn't in the least bit sleepy, he amused himself while sitting in the comfortable bench just outside the gates by observing the difficulty she was having while trying to maintain something she had already lost; namely, her secrecy.

When Kamalia reached the last turn of the road before reaching the gates, her instincts kicked in and she stopped. Within a few seconds, she raised her head and looked straight into the eyes of Savan. An imperceptible moment later, she sighed, and with no more attempts at concealment, she walked up and sat down next to him.

"Of all the benches in front of all the castles in all the world, you had to sit on mine," said Savan with his best Humphrey Bogart impersonation. It wasn't very good, but it was his best.

Kamalia smiled, grimly. "Good morning, Savan," she said. She pulled her frayed cloak around herself to fight the chill, now that she had stopped walking. "I never should have told you he was my favorite actor."

Savan chuckled. He had greeted her, on those occasions where their paths had crossed, with some variation of that line. He knew it annoyed her. That was why he did it, of course. He just wanted to extract that small bit of revenge to keep himself satisfied. "I suppose that was a mistake," agreed Savan. He took a closer look at her. Her dark black hair still showed no signs of gray. That could be due more to her magical abilities than any other cause. She had a characteristic that was fairly uncommon with their kind; vanity.

"I suppose you're here for the same reason I am," said Savan, making some small talk.

"Of course," replied Kamalia. "I'm not sure I believe it. It's just so impossible, but if the papers are true, Remus was cured."

"That's what I heard," agreed Savan. "He wouldn't lie about such a thing; that's for sure. The Prophet, on the other hand..."

"Yes," said Kamalia. "It wouldn't be the first time the Ministry tried to round us all up. I saw the pictures, though. It was Remus in the photos and he'd never be party to such a deception."

"No," agreed Savan, again. "I'm hopeful, but not convinced. We'll have to wait until morning. Then we'll know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Kamalia said, "You know, Savan; assuming that it'll all be over soon, well... I just want to say that I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you." She didn't know if she should go further and decided to see how Savan responded. It was an unwritten code among werewolves that you never apologized to anyone for what you were, and that included your victims.

"It happened," said Savan. "It took me a few years of experience to understand it, but I know you never intended to get loose. It was just one of those things. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn't your fault." He had been furious for years that he had been bitten; imagining all sorts of scenarios where the wicked witch had planned it all out in advance. How she had picked him to punish his family and bring ruin to his life. When they had finally met, years later, he was surprised that the scourge of his life was really a petite woman who seemed to truly not want to hurt anyone. They had talked over the years and he had found her story to be similar to his own. She was bitten by an older werewolf who's chains had rusted over the years and not been replaced. For the cost of a good meal, she had her life torn apart, just like him.

Kamalia nodded. Another few moments of silence and she said, "It won't matter for much longer. If Harry Potter agrees to cure us, well..." She didn't need to say it. In the past, daydreams about what you would do if you were no longer cursed could lead only to insanity.

"That's right," said Savan. "Just a while more. With luck, we've seen our last full moon."

Kamalia sat quietly for a bit before saying, "Actually, we'll still see the moon."

"I was hoping you wouldn't catch that," laughed Savan. "It's early; all right? Anyway, you know what I meant."

Kamalia laughed, as well. "I wish the sun would hurry up and rise," she said. "It's so cold." She shivered a bit as she pulled her cloak even tighter.

Without thinking, Savan opened up his cloak and wrapped it around the two of them. Kamalia smiled and snuggled in closer to him. They were too far apart in years to ever become anything more than friends, but she did appreciate the gesture.

About an hour or so later, they were both roused by a whistling sound. Their sensitive ears picked it up before their eyes spotted anything. Savan said, "They're coming in fast. Lots of them. We'd better get out of sight. With a nod, Kamalia joined him in hiding behind some acacia bushes.

Eight black-robed wizards blazed down the valley on their brooms. The uppermost edge of the sun would still not be visible, even from the Astronomy Tower, for another half hour but there was just enough pre-dawn light to see. The four in front, wands out and at the ready, scanned the path ahead for any signs of resistance or, more likely, obstructions such as low hanging branches or unusually located trees or poles. The pair bringing up the rear kept watch for anyone foolish enough to attack such a large group, unlikely as that prospect might be. The two figures in front of them, though, only concentrated on maintaining the proper speed and ever-changing direction to stay within the formation. Under their arms were two round bundles that they had been ordered to deliver to the gates of Hogwarts by their master. Each was wrapped in plain white cloth with a large red ribbon holding it all together. Red from a different source stained the bottoms of the packages. A note from their master had been tied to one of them. They had just come from their mission to collect the contents of the cloths and were now preparing to deliver them, along with the note, as directed.

Approaching the gates, which they knew they could not pass, the frontmost rider raised his wand and incanted "Morsmordre" as the couriers tossed their parcels over the gates. Turning about, they raced back the way they had come; leaving the Dark Mark to signal those inside that a message had been left.

A large dog began to bark. "Come on," whispered Savan, hoarsely. "Let's get the hell out of here." He sprang to his feet and ran towards the village as Kamalia ran for the forest. Each thought the other had the better idea and turned to follow, passing each other in their haste and the dark. Finally, Savan grabbed Kamalia's hand and they both raced off down the road.

"Quiet, Fang!" called Hagrid, coming over to his back door. "Ave yer finished yer business, already?" He opened the door to let his lap dog back inside, but Fang was giving off his bone-shaking barks with increasing gusto. "Quiet, I said. You'll wake ever'one in da castle, ye will." This probably wasn't entirely true since, already past seven o'clock, most of the students and staff had already risen; but the dog didn't know that.

Finally, Hagrid came outside to retrieve his wayward pet and noticed that Fang was looking up into the lightening sky. Looking up himself, he first took an unbelieving second look, just to be sure and then, without another word, he ran off to fetch McGonagall.

Five minutes later

"ALL STUDENTS ARE TO REPORT TO THEIR COMMON ROOMS AT ONCE," intoned the voice of the Headmistress throughout the halls of the castle. "THE HEADS OF HOUSES SHALL TAKE ATTENDANCE AND REPORT ANY MISSING STUDENTS TO THE HEADMISTRESS IMMEDIATELY. THE HEAD BOY AND HEAD GIRL ARE TO PROCEED TO THE MAIN DOORS."

For a moment, no one moved. A good many of them didn't have to anyway, being as they were already dressed and in their common rooms, waiting for their friends before proceeding to breakfast. At first, a few hushed comments could be heard from a few students, here and there. In just a few seconds, however, the chattering escalated to din levels.

"What's going on?" asked Seamus when Harry and Hermione popped out of their suite. Despite the orders, there was no way that the current Head of Gryffindor House was going to be coming through the portrait. Hagrid had enough trouble with walking down the corridors without knocking the paintings off the walls; passing through the Fat Lady's portrait would be as likely as sucking a cannonball through a straw.

"Neville," asked Hermione, holding a parchment in her left hand, "could you please check to see if everyone's here?" She handed him the list of students. "Thanks." She grabbed hold of Harry's arm and the two of them apparated to the entrance hall.

"Sure," said Neville to the air. He then started to try to calm everyone down. "Could I have your attention, please?" he asked politely. There was no response. "It'll just take a moment." He might as well have been invisible.

"SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!" requested Ginny in her demure soprano. At the resulting silence, she gestured for Neville to proceed.

"Thanks, Ginny," said Neville. "Now, when I call your name, say 'here', alright. Carol Allen..."

While Ginny and Neville were taking attendance, Harry and Hermione had arrived at the great doors of Hogwarts. "Where's Minerva?' asked Harry, looking all around. A few of the early arrivals for breakfast quickly rushed off to their common rooms. More than a few, especially the Ravenclaws, had the foresight to take some toast and bacon wrapped in napkins with them. They could be sequestered quite a while before anyone thought of sending up some food.

"She'll be here in a minute," said Hermione. "She probably made the announcement from her office and she can't apparate like you." She also looked around but stopped when she passed over the huge doors.

"Harry," she said, pointing, "the cross-beams are in place."

Harry instinctively looked at the normally unused timbers. A deadbolt system that held one door with a center strip that overlapped the other door was normally sufficient during the night. Whatever had happened, McGonagall wanted to increase the security of the castle. Before they had time to discuss any possibilities, they heard a rhythmic booming sound coming their way. This, in itself, didn't concern them since they could recognize Hagrid's steps when they heard them. They were alarmed, however, when Hagrid came into view, preceded as he was by Headmistress McGonagall. She had better not stop to pick up a knut.

"Harry," said Minerva, in a hushed whisper. "Hermione. The Dark Mark is over the main gates of this school."

"What?" asked Harry in alarm. He had heard, of course, but felt the need to say _something._

"How long has it been there?" asked Hermione.

McGonagall looked up at Hagrid. "I'd say, maybe ten'r fifteen min'ts er so," answered the half-giant. "Least that were when Fang started 'is bellerin' an all."

Hermione looked at Harry and ordered, "Take a look around. See if anyone's about."

"Right," said Harry and apparated at once to the top of the astronomy tower. Doing a quick scan all the way around, he then leaped onto the parapet and, with a last check of the sky above, he jumped off, transforming into a dragon as he fell.

"Jumper," commanded Hermione, brusquely.

"What can Jumper be..." began Jumper.

"Set up your teams to defend the castle," ordered Hermione, interrupting him. "The Free Elves can each lead a small group of the regular squads. Stay well within the magical boundaries of the school grounds. We aren't sure if, when, how many or from where any attack might come so be ready for anything."

Jumper looked first at McGonagall to see if she had anything to add or countermand. After a moment, she gave him a quick nod and he popped off. Hermione quickly strode over to one of the slit windows on the sides of the huge doors and looked out.

Minerva looked as if she wanted to say something but then turned instead to Hagrid. "Hagrid," she said, "the north entrance door is the weakest and most remote. Could you go there for a while, just to be on the safe side?'

"O'course, Headmistress," said Hagrid. He immediately made his way towards the indicated entrance."

Minerva walked over to where Hermione was keeping watch. "I, ah, don't want to make too strong a point of this, Hermione," said McGonagall, "but this is technically my school to defend."

Hermione said, "I can see the Dark Mark. It's not as big as the last one." She turned back inside as if finally realizing what McGonagall had said. "I understand, Headmistress. I don't have any plans to take that responsibility away from you, but in an unknown situation this serious, a few steps needed to be taken. You've secured the castle," at this she pointed to the barred doors for emphasis, "but Harry and the elves are the only ones who can drive off a large force. When he returns, we'll have more information with which to plan."

"Yes," said Minerva, uncertainly. "I, ah, yes. We'll know more when Harry returns. I informed Rufus already. He said he'd gather some aurors and come as soon as possible." She was beginning to understand what Rufus had been muttering about, from time to time, regarding his relative power to resist Voldemort compared to Harry. In an emergency such as this, about all she could do was lock the doors and hope the wards and castle walls would protect them. Harry could send an army home with its metaphorical tail between its legs.

The Defender of Hogwarts circled the castle in ever increasing arcs. He noticed the two packages by the gates on the second pass but wanted to make a thorough search for any Death Eaters before landing. Passing over the Forbidden Forest, he caught sight of a small group of centaurs on the Hogwarts side, presumably discussing the Dark Mark. He was curious about how they would use the stars to explain it all. Actually, he decided that he wasn't. With a final two circuits, he came in for a landing, just inside the gates.

"Jumper," he called.

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered Jumper. He knew what he would be needing. "Jumper and the Hogwarts Free Elves is not being finding any bad wizards."

"Neither did I," said Harry. "About all we have is the Dark Mark and these two packages lying over here." He glanced up at the Dark Mark as he walked over to examine the white wrapped objects. As his view improved, both with the gathering light of dawn and the decrease in distance, he was able to make an accurate guess as to the nature of the parcels.

"Oh, dear Lord," muttered Harry as he stopped to catch his breath and compose himself. From the location of the blood coupled with what was clearly the outline of a face, the object closest to him was almost certainly a head. A glance at the other one confirmed that it was a match to the first. "Jumper. They're heads." He was filled with disbelief at the reality of the situation.

Jumper was also disturbed but pressed on. "Who is they being, Harry Potter?" he asked. He stepped up next to Harry but seemed hesitant to advance further.

"I don't know," answered Harry. "I hope it's not..." He trailed off. It was wrong to think it, but he hoped that the people under the cloths were strangers. They would be known to someone, of course, but he didn't want to suffer the shock of recognition personally.

"There is being a note, Harry Potter," said Jumper, pointing. A small scroll was tied to one of the ribbons.

"Great," said Harry. He took a deep breath and walked over to the severed head. A slight vapor was escaping through the weave of the cloth indicating that the heads were still freshly warm. Pulling his wand, he cut the smaller ribbon which allowed the note to flutter off.

"Accio note," he said, causing the parchment to fly into his hand. He unrolled and read it.

_Harry,_

_I was so glad to see that you'd recovered from your reported expiration. You seemed to be doing well, but you might suffer a relapse if you aren't careful. Sometimes that condition has a way of recurring when you least expect it._

_Now, as to the purpose of this note. It has come to my attention that a former colleague of mine, a Mr. Joe Diben, has decided to remove himself from my company and is now staying at your facilities in Scotland. While I regret his decision, I wish him to know that there are no hard feelings. With the holidays coming up, I felt that he and his lovely family would wish to have his parents join him. After all, Christmas just wouldn't be the same for the children without their grandparents. Please place the presents I've had delivered under the tree for them. I'm sure it will be a pleasant surprise._

_Well, I must be off. Another former employee has also decided to resign. I'll be continuing with the exit interview after I finish this note._

_Yours,_

_The Dark Lord_

Harry rolled the note back up and stared blankly at the heads. After about thirty seconds, he realized that he wasn't accomplishing anything and that two women were waiting for him at the main doors. Not wishing to leave the heads to the mercy of any stray animals that might wander by, he conjured a small bag similar to the ones he had used to carry practice quaffles to the pitch. Levitating the heads into the bag, he zipped it shut. "Keep an eye out for anyone suspicious, Jumper," said Harry. "I'll check with Hermione and Minerva and see what they think about this note."

"Yes, Harry Potter," agreed Jumper. "Perhaps Harry Potter is wanting to be getting rid of the bad cloud?" he asked, pointing at the Dark Mark.

"Oh," said Harry, glancing up. "I forgot." Raising his wand, he intoned, "Finite." The Dark Mark flickered, but returned to normal within a second. Harry rolled his eyes at his fairly naive assumption that the Dark Mark would be that easy to dispose of. "FINITE," he said, louder and with more conviction. He concentrated on maintaining the duration of the spell. Again the Dark Mark flickered, but this time, its shape twisted and spun in on itself until, after about five seconds, it disappeared with a flash and a clap similar to thunder.

"I wonder why he made that spell so hard to get rid of," wondered Harry. The answer, of course, was to intimidate those that came across them. All it did to Harry was annoy him. With a shrug, he picked up the bag and popped back to his wife.

"Please, Master," begged Smithers. "Just kill me." He was strung up by his ankles over the bodies of his family. Blood from numerous wounds dripped down into his eyes and mouth as he swung back and forth. Ignoring his request, Voldemort picked up another piece of bacon and chewed it casually as he read the morning paper.

"Just more of the same," complained Voldemort. "A few articles on some of the more interesting healing that Wonder Boy managed." He turned the page. "Ah, this could be amusing. A list of the dead." He read on silently.

"Master," repeated Smithers. "Have mercy and end it." He was crying, again.

"Stop whining," commanded the Dark Lord. "I'm busy. I said I'd kill you tomorrow." He raised his wand and said "Crucio," but he wasn't putting much effort into it. Smithers screamed in pain and misery. Some of the Death Eaters laughed but more than a few paused their eating for a moment. They dared not leave, though.

Just then, the messengers returned. There were two less than had visited Hogwarts but that was part of the plan. They silently filed in and all, with the exception of Snape, proceeded to gather up some breakfast. Voldemort released Smithers for the moment so his lieutenant could report.

"We have delivered your message, Master," said Snape.

"That's good, Severus," responded Voldemort, pleased. "You've stationed the team to monitor the area for any of my followers?"

"Kill me," begged Smithers.

"As you commanded, Master," responded Snape, giving a contemptuous glance at Smithers. "If Potter attempts to move them, we'll know about it immediately."

"Very well," concluded the Dark Lord. "Let us hope he dispenses with this deception at the North Pole." He added, under his breath, "Not that I wouldn't like to know how he did it." Louder, he continued, "Have you heard any reports of other malcontents among the married men?"

"None," answered Snape. "Of course they've barely had time to unpack."

"Master, please," sobbed Smithers.

"It's your own fault. If you hadn't tried that pathetic attempt to take a swing at me when you were finished with your family, you'd have been dead already," said Voldemort. At Smither's continued moans, he picked up his wand and said, "Avada Kedavra." The green beam hit Smithers and he slumped limp on his rope. "Happy now?"

"That reminds me," said Snape. "Diben's wife's mother wasn't at home. Would you like for me to assign a couple of men to wait for her return?"

Voldemort contemplated this and said, "No. From what I've heard, killing your mother-in-law wouldn't be much of a punishment for most husbands." Glancing at Smithers and his family, he ordered, "Have someone clean up this mess." He then returned his attention to his breakfast.

"This way, gentlemen." The Minister of Magic led a squad of six aurors out of Minerva McGonagall's private sitting room. They had used that point of entry since he had permanent permission to use that floo. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Jack Dawlish knew why, of course, but they let the other four members of their group guess. Once they had passed the Gargoyle and entered the main hallway, it was just a short, but brisk, walk to the main entrance.

"Minerva," said Rufus, giving her a comforting hug when he reached her. "Hello, Hermione." He nodded to Ron and Honey who had also just arrived. To them all, he reported, "I brought everyone who was about, but Percy's flooing a few more aurors. They'll be able to come if we need them."

"That's good," said Minerva. "We aren't sure exactly why the Dark Mark was cast. I haven't heard any reports of missing students. Still, it's best to be safe."

"Exactly," agreed Rufus. Looking to Hermione, he asked, "I'm surprised Harry isn't here. Was he caught in the bath?"

"He's out checking for Death Eaters, Minister," replied Hermione. "He should be back in a minute or..."

Boom! A loud thunderclap was heard that rattled the windows. It seemed to rattle most of those in the entrance hall, as well. Hermione ran over to the window and looked out. "It's nothing," she said. "The Dark Mark's gone. Harry's by the gate and is picking up some sort of..."

Pop! A wand clattered to the floor as one of the younger aurors, already on edge from the unexplained noise, dropped his wand at the sight and sound of Harry Potter apparating almost right next to him.

"Here you go," said Harry, picking it up and returning it to the man. "Hello, Rufus. Hey, Kingsley. Hi, um, ah, John?" He had momentarily forgotten Dawlish's first name.

"I go by Jack," said Dawlish.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "So, Minister. What brings you here?"

Rufus rolled his eyes. "Oh, nothing," he said. "I just thought that I'd take some of my men out for breakfast."

"You're being too subtle," said Hermione. "He probably believed you, just now." At Harry's confused look, she knew she was correct. "They came because the Dark Mark was cast over the gates of the school, Harry. That's usually a bad thing."

"Oh," said Harry. "I dispelled it, already. You probably heard it."

"Yes, we did," said Hermione. "Did you find any Death Eaters?"

"No," said Harry. Holding up the bag, he then amended, "at least I don't think so. I don't know if these people were Death Eaters or just their son was."

"People?" asked Honey and Ron, together.

"Yes," said Harry. "You probably haven't heard, yet, but we had a Death Eater and his family surrender last night. Apparently Voldemort knew they came here and wanted to punish them. These are the heads of ..."

"Bloody hell, Harry," said Minerva. She sagged noticeably and Rufus helped her to a nearby bench. A few of the aurors didn't seem too at ease with the thought, either.

"Really, Harry," said Hermione. "What made you decide to bring the heads back with you?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "I didn't think it was a good idea to just leave them there. An animal might have stopped by and taken them."

"There are heads in there?" asked a pale faced Honey. She had just caught up to the conversation and was staring at the bag in shock.

"Yes," answered Harry, again. "I didn't really know what else to do, at the time."

Hermione considered this. "I suppose," she agreed slowly. "Next time, just put them in a box, or something."

"Next time?" asked a still shaken Minerva. "I bloody well hope there won't be a 'next time.'" She bent forward with her eyes closed and her face in her hands.

"There probably won't be," said Hermione. "I'm pretty sure that what happened to Diben's parents will get around on the Death Eater grapevine. I doubt that many of the others will take that sort of a risk."

"Do you have need of those, ah, heads?" asked Rufus. He had a hesitant look to his face but needed to act.

"Not really," said Harry. He looked at Ron and Hermione to make sure they didn't want them for some reason.

"Good," said Rufus. "Henry. Please take them back to the Ministry. We'll decide what to do with them later."

"Yes, Minister," said a decidedly uninspired Henry who, nonetheless, picked up the bag and turned to leave.

"Thank you, Rufus," said Minerva.

"Excuse me," said Henry. "I'm not sure I can return the way I came." He was right.

"I'll give you a lift," said Harry. He offered his arm to the young man.

"It's alright, Henry," said Rufus. "Harry can apparate in Hogwarts."

Henry hesitantly took Harry's arm. With a 'Hold on" from Harry, they were off. About ten seconds later, Harry returned.

"Did you take him to my floo?" asked Minerva. She was a bit more at ease now that the heads were gone.

"No," said Harry. "I took him to the Minister's office. I thought it'd be quicker."

"But that's..." began auror Ian Franklin.

"No, it's not," interrupted Rufus, "as I've found out time and again." He gave a sigh. "Now, you say you didn't see any Death Eaters?"

"No," replied Harry. I just made a few passes around the castle and over the forest but I didn't see anyone."

"Perhaps we should take a look around ourselves, Minister," suggested Shacklebolt.

"Take the rest of the men and do that," confirmed Rufus. "I'll see what else I can find out in here."

Shacklebolt took two steps towards the exit before he noticed a problem. "Could we have the doors opened, please?"

Minerva stood and cast a silent spell at the great doors. The cross-bars retracted back into their holders on the walls and the massive oak doors swung out. Shacklebolt led his team out onto the grounds.

"Now that it's less crowded," said Harry, in a softer voice, "there was something of interest. The heads were left as punishment, as we suspected, but there was a note attached to one that was meant for me." He passed the note to Hermione who read it to the group.

"He doesn't sound so bad in writing, does he?" asked Honey. "What sort of presents did he send for the children." She was apparently doing her best to live up to her reputation.

"The heads of their grandparents," said Harry. Ignoring her subsequent surprise, he said, "That's not the important part, though. Voldemort mentioned that he thought that this Diben was staying in Scotland. Hermione had him taken to the northern fortress for the night. That's where all of the latest Death Eaters are as well. We know that the arms would be tracked there and the new blokes actually are there so why would he think this new one was here?"

"I don't know," said Hermione. "We'll have to go talk to Diben after breakfast."

"That's twice, now," said Ron.

"What's twice?" asked Minerva.

"That's twice someone's mentioned breakfast and we're all still just standing here," answered Ron.

"Well, we'd better do something about that," said Rufus. He offered Minerva his arm.

"Jumper," said Harry.

"What can Jumper be doing for Harry Potter?" asked Jumper a second later.

"Have you sighted anyone outside?" asked Harry.

"Only the aurors is being on the grounds of Hogwarts, Harry Potter," answered Jumper.

"Fine," said Harry. "Keep the Hogwarts Free Elves at their posts for the time being but let the other elves return to their duties in the castle."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper and he popped off.

Minerva looked at her watch. "There's still enough time for breakfast. It seems that any danger has already passed so classes won't have to be disrupted. Come along, Rufus. We'll go to my quarters so I can make the announcement and we'll have breakfast there."

"But we just ate at my house," said Rufus, naively. After a second, he said, "Oh, right. I'll check back in with you in an hour, Harry. See what you can find out from this Diben character."

"No problem, Rufus," said Harry. After Rufus and Minerva were out of earshot, he said to his group, "We'll get on that right after breakfast. With a grin from Ron and rolling eyes from Hermione, the foursome entered the Great Hall.

A Short Time Later in the Northern Fortress

"We'll keep it short, for now," said Harry as he sat next to Ron and Hermione. "First of all, your wife and children are in one of our flats. You won't be joining them, of course, but I think some visits will be able to be arranged, for the children's sake."

"Thank you, Master," said Diben.

"I'm not your master," said Harry, automatically. "I'm..." He had to stop and think.

"We're your captors," said Hermione. "Now, Cathy told us that you came to us since you didn't want to be killed by Harry. Is that correct?"

"Yes," said Diben. "I'm not sure if I should have done so, but all those dragons just scared the daylights out of me." He still looked a bit shocked.

"They do have that effect," agreed Ron.

"Right," said Hermione. "Cathy said you were given a new job, or something. Could you tell us about it?"

"I suppose," said Joe. "Basically, one of us was to go with any group that left headquarters. If we came across Harry Potter, we were to take two of these steel balls and place them together."

"Balls?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Joe, reaching into his pockets to show them. Withdrawing one small sphere from each pocket, he said, "You just put them together," demonstrating the action. The moment they touched, he collapsed to the table. Harry could feel the pulse of an anti-apparition shield pass over them, but since they already had contracted the same ward from the Goblins, it didn't make any difference. It mattered to Joe, though.

Harry, Hermione and Ron all sat dumbstruck as the two halves of the stored spell pair rolled to the edge of the table and dropped off, bouncing noisily to the far side of the room.

Author's Note: Just wanted to mention this: if anyone is reviewing anonymously, please register or I can't answer your questions.

Dad


	87. Chapter 87

Chapter 87 - Heads Will Roll

November 6th, 1997

"Let's check down this way," called Shacklebolt. He didn't say anything else lest he tip his hand. After an initial search around the boundaries of Hogwarts, Dawlish's team went to check out near the Forbidden Forest while Shacklebolt and Franklin proceeded down the road to Hogsmeade. Hearing Shacklebolt's call, Dawlish came jogging up with his men while Shacklebolt and Franklin continued to visually scan the area. They had used the map for this type of work before and had learned how to persuade their quarry to remain 'hidden'. It prevented the exertion of a footrace or the danger of a wand fight. When they had all gathered together, Shacklebolt filled them in on his plan.

"There are two of them," he said softly. Reading from the map, he continued, "Their names are Savan Mingan and Kamalia Lingley. They aren't Death Eaters, as far as I can tell. They're about a hundred yards up the road on the left. We'll go with the standard procedure. Franklin and I'll take the point."

"Do you want to make a felony arrest?" asked Dawlish. Despite his experience, he glanced down the road in the indicated direction.

"Not unless we have to," said Shacklebolt. "I'd say we give them a chance to come quietly. For all we know, they might not have anything to do with either the Mark or the heads. Then again, be careful. There's no good reason for anyone to be hiding in the trees this time of year."

"So are we back to stunning first and asking questions later?' asked Jack. He had always chided Kingsley for his habit of seeing both sides of everything.

Shacklebolt sighed. "I'll tell you what, Jack; if you see a wand in their hand, stun them."

"Thanks," said Jack. He raised his hand to gesture that Kingsley should start down the road.

They hadn't gone fifty feet, though, before the unexpected sight of a man and a woman, both holding their empty hands out from the sides of their bodies, came walking towards them. Both had opened their cloaks to show that they had no hidden weapons. It was as if they really didn't want to be stunned.

"Hello," shouted Savan after some of the distance had been shortened. "There's no need for an arrest, felony or otherwise."

"I'm actually not sure what that would be, but it sounds unpleasant," added Kamalia.

Shacklebolt and Dawlish both had their wands out but they could tell at a glance that there was nothing to fear from this couple. They lowered their wands but kept them in their hands. "Good morning," said Shacklebolt. "There's been an incident at the castle and we're investigating. Did you notice anything while you were, ah, otherwise engaged."

Savan and Kamalia looked at Shacklebolt for a second before turning in unison to each other. "Otherwise engaged?" asked Kamalia, an incredulous tinge to her voice. "With him?" They both laughed.

"Perhaps your reasons for hiding in the trees together are not as obvious as we might have thought," said Dawlish, "but the question that Inspector Shacklebolt asked is quite important. Did you see or hear anything this morning?"

Savan looked at Kamalia and, with a shrug from her, he said, "We were right in the thick of it. Kamalia and I were sitting on the bench in front of the main gates of Hogwarts when we heard some brooms approaching at high speed."

"About when was this?" asked Kingsley, putting his wand away and starting to pull out a parchment to take notes before noticing Franklin had beat him to it.

"Just a bit before dawn," said Kamalia. "I'm not sure exactly."

"About a half hour or so ago?" asked Kingsley.

"Yes," said Savan. "Maybe a bit less. We haven't been hiding for long."

"Why were you hiding at all?" asked Dawlish.

"Unknown riders coming in on brooms at that time of morning," said Savan. "It seemed prudent to stay out of sight."

"I understand," said Shacklebolt. "So you ran down the road before they arrived. Did you see anything?"

"We didn't run," said Kamalia. "We hid behind some bushes."

"Oh," said Shacklebolt. "Tell me what happened."

"Eight or so men on brooms came up within seconds," said Savan. "They looked like Death Eaters but we only saw them from the back. One of them points his wand in the air and shouts 'mors mordra' while two others throw some white bags over the gates. The Dark Mark appeared overhead. I guess that proves they were Death Eaters. Anyway, then they took off back down the valley to the south."

"They left?" asked Dawlish.

"Yes," said Kamalia. "They only stopped for a second."

"Then why did you run?" asked Kingsley.

"We panicked, I guess," said Savan. "We heard this dog barking and the Dark Mark was cast so we just ran for it."

"I see," said Dawlish. "You were both sitting on a bench in front of the gates, you say?"

"Yes," said Kamalia. "We met there an hour or so ago."

"You both just happed to meet at such an odd location in the middle of the night?" asked Shacklebolt. "Why was that, exactly?"

Savan and Kamalia both looked at each other, again. Neither wanted to reveal their intentions.

"If you'd prefer," said Dawlish, "we could talk someplace more private; perhaps at the Ministry."

"No," said Savan and Kamalia, suddenly and simultaneously. It had been a long journey for both of them to make it to northern Scotland. They didn't want to start over from London.

"I must inform you," said Shacklebolt, "that this is more than a case of the casting of the Dark Mark. It is entirely possible that we are at the start of a murder investigation." He could tell that they knew nothing of the murders but he didn't want them to stall anymore, either.

"Oh, my," said Kamalia. "Well, you'll find out soon enough. We're both werewolves. We came here to see if..."

"To see if Harry Potter would cure you like he did Remus Lupin," finished Shacklebolt. "You arrived in the night and were waiting until a fit hour to try to enter the school."

"Exactly," said Savan, relieved. "I arrived around three o'clock and Kamalia came about two hours later."

"I'd expect that a lot of your kind will be making that same trip," said Dawlish. "Potter might not be willing to cure you, though. Ever thought of that?" Most of his dealings with werewolves were less than civil. From his experience, they were mostly petty thieves and beggars.

"Yes," said Savan. "He might, though. You never know until you ask."

"I suppose not," agreed Dawlish, noncommittally.

"You're in luck," said Shacklebolt. "As much as it pains Ruf... I mean the Minister of Magic, this is Harry Potter's pitch. Let's go up to the castle and I'll introduce you to both of them. I'm sure they'll have some questions of their own."

"The Minister of Magic is here, already?" asked Kamalia. "I'd have expected he'd let the aurors check everything out before committing himself." She followed along as the rest started up the hill.

"He should have," said Dawlish, bringing up the rear. "Unfortunately, he was an auror, himself, for too long. He can't help himself."

"There are other reasons, too," said Shacklebolt. "Let's just say that he's keeping an eye on Hogwarts _personally_."

Dawlish laughed but gave no clues as to why.

* * *

In the Northern Fortress

"Harry Potter," said Jumper. "Mistress is being wanting to be seeing you in her office." There was no reply. Although he could clearly see that he wasn't interrupting, Jumper hesitated before repeating the request. After another five seconds of silence, he tried again. "Harry Potter. You is being needing to be seeing Mistress."

Slowly, Harry turned his head to Jumper. He didn't say anything, but nodded slightly. He then turned back to examine his wife and best friend. Both had the same dumb look on their faces as he did. Shaking his head, he said, "Come on. Let's see what else has been buggered up." He rose from his chair.

Hermione, sensing the movement, was brought out of her shock to the point of finally being able to scream.

"What?" exclaimed Ron, startled by the legendary shriek. He tried to jump up, but forgetting momentarily that that was impossible, he only managed to fall off the back of his carpet-draped bench.

"What is being happening to this wizard, Harry Potter?" asked Jumper, noticing that the prisoner he had captured just a few hours earlier was not merely resting.

"Bloody hell if I know," blurted out Harry. He had a bit more shock and panic to get through before he could return to rational thought.

"He just put these two marbles together and... and... dropped..." Hermione still couldn't believe it.

"Marbles, Mistress Hermione?" asked Jumper. As far as he could tell, he was the only one in the room who hadn't lost his.

"Yes," said Harry. "They're over against that wall." He pointed towards the south end of the room.

Jumper went to retrieve the marbles but hadn't taken three steps before Harry and Hermione both shouted, "STOP!"

"Don't touch them, Jumper," ordered Hermione. "They just killed this man." She indicated Joe. Jumper stepped back from the spheres in alarm, unsure of how to deal with them safely.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," said Ron, lying flat on his back. He waved both of his arms, summoning assistance.

"Oh," said Harry. "Sure. Give me a hand, Jumper." Harry raised Ron up manually while Jumper used magic to place the carpet back underneath him. In a few seconds, he was hovering back at a normal height.

"Thanks," said Ron. He looked at Diben. "We'd better go back. Something might have come up with those other Death Eaters. This bloke can wait."

"He sure won't be going anywhere," agreed Harry. "Jumper. Can you put him... let's see. Would it be best to just put him outside, for now?" He thought cold storage might be the best and you didn't get much colder than the North Pole in the winter.

"That won't be necessary," said Hermione. She cast a spell and Diben floated above the table. With some deft wand movements and a little physical assistance from Harry, they managed to move him over to the corner and lay him flat. Hermione cast the same stasis spell they used on the arms and said, "He'll be fine, now. Let's go see Minerva. We'll try to figure this out later."

Silently agreeing, they all took turns touching their rings to the portkey icon and left Joe to slowly cool down.

* * *

When they had all arrived in Minerva's office, the first thing that became apparent was exactly how crowded it was. Minerva and Rufus, along with the remaining five aurors, would have been a comfortable number. Savan and Kamalia were able to find a corner without much more difficulty. Due to the nature of their newest guests, Tonks and Remus had also been called; but the addition of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Jumper made it somewhat too cozy.

"Hang on," said McGonagall, rising from her chair to assess the situation. "I think that if you join me back here, Rufus, and Harry and Hermione sit over on the side chairs, then... No, wait; that isn't..."

"Minerva," said Harry. "I had an idea the last time this came up. What you need is a conference room. Are any of these closets empty?" He indicated a set of three doors on the inside wall opposite the window.

"The one on the right currently only has a spare set of traveling robes, Harry," said Minerva, perceiving his intention. "I can put them on the rack just inside my parlor." She shuffled through the crowd to where Harry was already holding out the garments.

"Thanks," said Harry, handing them to her. Without further ado, he stepped into the closet and closed the door.

"I've heard of people coming out of the closet," said Savan, "but not so much going in."

Kamalia and Hermione both groaned but Hermione quickly added, "You'll have to tell that one to Harry when he's finished. He collects puns."

"Finished?" asked Shacklebolt. "What's he doing in there?"

"Probably..." began Hermione, but stopped when the closet door opened and Harry stepped out.

"If everyone could step in here," he said, holding the door open, "we'll get started."

Ron, Hermione and Jumper were closest and went through the door without hesitation. The two youngest aurors followed next with Tonks and Remus just behind. The rest queued up with Rufus and Minerva bringing up the rear. The 'closet' redefined the term 'walk-in' by several factors. The walls had been spread out so that they found themselves in a room about fifteen feet wide and twenty-five feet long. Harry had enchanted the walls to glow softly, giving the room an overall ambient lighting suitable for conversation. His summonable sofa and two overstuffed chairs were in position as well as six of his spare dining room chairs. Ron's bench, added to the list of items that could be called at need, was next to one of the stuffed chairs and a smattering of small tables were interspersed throughout.

"...seven, eight, nine," said Harry, counting. He looked around one last time, finally placing a hand on his own chest as he said, "fifteen." He looked at the furniture and summoned four more chairs. "There," he said, "I think that's enough." He claimed the comfiest chair for his own as everyone else, perhaps a little rattled by the demonstration of powerful magic, quickly found a seat for themselves; rearranging the dining room chairs a bit for better communication.

"Jumper," said McGonagall, addressing the elf who was sitting somewhat stiffly in his chair, still unused to being treated as an equal but obviously included in the count by Harry. "Please have some refreshments sent up. I don't believe our guests have had breakfast, yet." Savan and Kamalia, perhaps due to their status as 'the guests', were shunted to the sofa.

"Yes, Mistress," said Jumper, rising immediately. Jumper decided that he would have to wear two hats at this meeting. Using _The Voice _to instruct the kitchen elves, he then sat back down to discuss the more pressing concerns from this morning.

"Harry," said McGonagall without further delay, "This is Kamalia Lingley and Savan Mingan. They witnessed the incident from earlier this morning."

"How do you do," said Harry, rising to properly greet them both. "Allow me to introduce Hermione Potter; my wife, and Ron Weasley; my best friend." At the mention of their names, Hermione and Ron joined him in offering hand shakes.

"Um, hello," said Kamalia, out of practice when it came to formal introductions. "We're... we're both very happy to finally meet you, Mr. Potter." She hesitantly allowed him to take her hand and looked strangely at the fingers he had touched when she withdrew it.

"Yes," agreed Savan, "we certainly are. Neither of us knew what, well, we just..." Words had abandoned him, it seemed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. It's just been such a strange day."

"The name's Harry," said Harry. "Yes, it has, and you don't know the half of it." He then indicated that everyone should take their seats. During the brief introductions, a small buffet of assorted breakfast staples and treats had appeared next to the couch that Savan and Kamalia shared.

"Please," said McGonagall, "feel free to help yourselves. You haven't had breakfast and this might be a long conversation." She gave them both a moment to view the offerings before getting back to business. "Now, if you could begin at the beginning. I understand you both came to see Harry." She indicated that they should take it from there.

Savan and Kamalia both sat down again before looking at each other, presumably to determine the initial spokesperson. With a nod and a gesture, Kamalia took the lead. "Well," she began, "I suppose that it's true that we both came to see Mr. Potter. I read Remus' comments in the paper about how he was cured of lycanthropy and, well, I pretty much set out immediately. Savan beat me here so I guess he was thinking along the same lines. We both arrived before dawn so we were waiting on the bench outside the gates." She then went on to describe what they first heard, and then saw from behind the acacia bushes. At that point, she turned to Savan to see if he thought of anything she had missed.

It turned out that he had missed most of her summary. Werewolves aren't often afforded the luxury of such a cornucopia for any of their meals and he was certainly making the most of it. With greasy and jam-covered fingers, he looked up when he noticed the pause and saw that perhaps it might be his turn to speak.

"Soffy," he said, his mouth still full of a particularly enjoyable pastry. He took a quick drink of coffee before saying, "Sorry. Well, we were pretty startled, to say the least, and decided to make a run for it. About half way to Hogsmeade, _someone_," at this point he glanced meaningfully at Kamalia, "had to stop for a breather." Kamalia hadn't noticed the slight, being famished, herself, and engaged with buttering her blueberry muffin. "It wasn't long before we saw an enormous dragon; I suppose that was Mr. Potter. Anyway, he comes flying down and begins making circles around Hogwarts. Kamalia and I still didn't know if being seen was a good idea so we headed into the trees near the road. By the time those other blokes came down the road, we were a bit more rational. When we heard them talking about 'felony arrests' and all, it seemed that it would be a good time to reveal ourselves."

"Did you recognize any of the Death Eaters?" asked Rufus. He had a small cookie but was eyeing the more complete platter next to the new couple.

"No," answered Savan. He turned to Kamalia who also shook her head.

"Would you be willing to let us have your memories of the incident?" asked Hermione.

"Of course, if I can," answered Savan, "but I've never done that."

"It's easy enough," said Kamalia. "I can show you."

"Fine," said Harry. "That should do us the most good. Now, I suppose you're both wondering about being cured." At this, both Savan and Kamalia stopped their eating and gazed intently at Harry, a different kind of hunger in their eyes. "The important answer is 'yes'; I'll cure you both."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," said Kamalia, tears rolling down her cheeks. She put her hands to her face as Savan, acting instinctively, wrapped his arm around her.

"I have to agree," said Savan. "Thank you. I... I... Thank you." He, too, soon had damp cheeks.

"The bad news," said Hermione, instantly garnering their attention and activating their apprehension, "is that you aren't first in line. There are a few others who arrived yesterday. Since there wasn't a fair way to determine the order, we're going with 'first come, first served'. You're... let's see ." She gave it some thought. "You're ninth and tenth." Both of the werewolves seemed to show some relief that they weren't fiftieth in line. "Harry can only do two per day since it's quite difficult. He cured Chad last night so you'll be coming up next Sunday night and Monday morning."

"Did you include Fenrir?" asked Harry. "He'll be next whenever he's well enough."

"You're curing Greyback?" asked about five voices, dissimilar in pitch and timbre but identical in their incredulity.

"Yes," said Harry. "He's provided more information than any other Death Eater and cooperated when asked for clarification or further information. That was the deal we made. He's kept his end of the bargain and I'll be keeping mine." His tone indicated that he'd brook no dissent on this point.

"I guess that will put you both on Monday, then," said Hermione. "One in the morning and the other in the evening." She had noticed their state of clothing, as well as their ravenous appetite and offered, "We have some flats available while you're waiting. I assume you'd like to stay together."

Savan and Kamalia, the former with his arm still around the latter, both looked at her in confused silence. After exactly two and a quarter seconds, they turned to each other and split apart in shock.

"Together?" asked Kamalia, finding her tongue first. "Together? Me and this twit?"

"Not hardly," agreed Savan. "My God; she must be over sixty..."

"Fifty-eight," came back Kamalia before having the sense to fudge the number.

"Alright," amended Savan, "She's fifty-eight years older than ..."

"I am bloody well _not_ fifty-eight years older than you," snapped Kamalia. "I'm fifty-eight years old, _total_, if it's any of your concern."

"My mistake," said Hermione, smiling. "In that case, we have a dormitory for the men and one for the women. It isn't much, but you won't be here all that long."

"Fine," said Savan. He sat back in the sofa, embarrassed by the misunderstanding.

"Yes," said Kamalia. "Thank you." She, too, was embarrassed, but also pleased that she could still be mistaken for the lover of a man as young as Savan. If she were honest with herself, she wouldn't mind too much if it wasn't a mistake.

"Thank you for your cooperation," said Harry. He looked at his watch. "It's almost nine o'clock. We'll let you get settled in with your new roommates for a bit before we come to get your memories. Most of us here have a few more things to discuss that are a bit more secret and Hermione has to get to class. Jumper." He looked at the elf.

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered Jumper.

"Could you please arrange transportation for Mr., ah," he looked at Hermione's notes, "Mr. Mingan and Miss Lingley, please? They'll be staying with the others that arrived yesterday."

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered Jumper, again. He didn't speak or move, but within five seconds, two elves arrived.

"We'll still be able..." began Savan, before trailing off.

"Yes, Mr. Mingan?" asked McGonagall. "You have a question?"

"I, ah, was wondering," asked Savan, "if we'd still be able to see each other. You know; to talk." He turned towards Kamalia slightly when he asked. She smiled brilliantly at him and took a step closer.

"There are doors on the dormitories," explained Hermione. "You can visit any time you want."

"That's good," said Kamalia. She took Savan's hand without objection. They were lead out to the main office, and with all four of them making proper physical contact, they simultaneously portkeyed off.

* * *

"Now, I don't mean to correct you, but I believe all three of us have class," said Hermione, indicating both Ron and Harry, "not just me."

"We need to discuss everything that's happened," explained Harry, "as well as view the memories from those two."

"And also what happened to Joe," added Ron.

"And what to do with his family," added Minerva. "Surely, the children shouldn't be held accountable for the actions of their father."

"I think that all qualifies as more important than class, just this once," said Hermione.

"You'll get no argument from me," said Harry. "I'm just surprised you'd be willing to miss double Potions."

"Double Potions?" asked Hermione. "That's right; it's Thursday." Quickly turning around, she took two steps towards the door while calling back, "Take good notes, Harry." She stopped and turned back, apparently thinking better of her choice. "What am I thinking. This is an important meeting with the potential for a lot of information." Addressing the metamorphmagus, she said, "Take good notes, _Tonks_. I'll check with you later." She gave Harry a quick kiss and left.

"I do believe I've just been insulted," said Harry, faking an affronted demeanor.

"I do believe she knows you only too well," said McGonagall. Everyone laughed as they returned to business.

"So," said Rufus. "This new Death Eater that brought his family to you for protection. Did he have much to say?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment, each trying his best to resist saying something funny but totally inappropriate, before Ron said, "He was part of a special team. His job, as well as the others like him, I suppose, was to accompany other Death Eater groups when they were out and about. If they came across Harry, they were supposed to put these two metal balls together." He looked at Harry before adding, "I'm not sure what they're supposed to do. Harry was sitting three feet away and it didn't hurt him at all."

"You let him actually fulfill his orders?" asked Shacklebolt. He looked as shocked as he felt.

"It all happened pretty quick," said Harry. "He told us his job and mentioned the balls. When we asked about the balls, he brought them out of his pockets to show us. It all happened so quick, we couldn't stop him."

"But nothing happened, you say?" asked Dawlish.

"Something happened, all right," said Ron, still a bit shocked. "That bloke hit the table like Hagrid falling through a sky light the moment he touched those bloody balls together."

"He hit the..." said Rufus. "Are you saying he's dead?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I could feel the goblin anti-apparition ward being cast, as well, but it didn't matter since we already had it in place."

"It's obvious he didn't know that aspect of his job," said Remus. "In an unsecured area, though, it might prove effective. If Harry stumbled on a group of Death Eaters, they have one man die preventing your escape while the rest do their best to kill you. Ruthless, but brilliant."

"Brilliant?" asked Tonks. "It's the Death Eaters that'd be wanting to escape." There were general murmurs of agreement on this.

"You never know," said Harry. "It all depends on the circumstances. Eventually, someone might get lucky." He wasn't as practiced at false modesty as was Hermione, having much less diverse a list of abilities to be falsely modest about.

"That's true," said Franklin. "It only takes one lucky shot. Look at David and Goliath." Several people nodded in agreement. Ron and Harry were not among that group.

"David and who?" asked Harry.

"David and Goliath," repeated Franklin. "You know; David slew the giant Goliath with a stone from his sling."

"A sling?" asked Harry. "Like you'd have with a broken arm?" He didn't see how that would work at all.

"No," said Shacklebolt. "A sling is a piece of leather with two cords on it. You put the rock in the leather and swing it around. Then you let go of one of the cords and the rock goes flying."

"How do you control where it goes?" asked Ron, intrigued by the idea.

"I'm not sure," said Kingsley. "I'd expect that practice would help."

"I suppose," said Harry. "Still, I wouldn't want to go against a giant with just a rock and a piece of leather. At least not a rock small enough to swing around."

"It does sound like it'd only get them mad," agreed Rufus. "I had a similar experience in Canada, once. There was this huge bull moose, you see, and I'd mislaid my wand. Well, it was on about something and all I could find were some chunks of an old asphalt road. Anyway..."

Five minutes later...

"...so it's unlikely that we'll have many more Death Eater families." Hermione was more than a bit upset by having been summoned back to the new conference room by McGonagall. The older witch had decided that Hermione's expertise and experience would be necessary to keep the wheels from falling off the conversation, again. Minerva might be able to keep Rufus on target, but not when he had Harry and Ron, and to a lesser extent, his old auror friends surrounding him.

"That sounds unfortunate, but reasonable," agreed Rufus.

"Fine," said Hermione. "Let's get the memories from the new werewolves and have a look. Harry. Go get the pensieve. I'll grab a couple of bottles from the office and see Mingan and Lingley. You lot," at this, she pointed at the Aurors, along with Rufus, "have until we get back to finish off the food. After that, I'm sending what's left back to the kitchens."

"Yes, ma'am," said Rufus. He dutifully led his men, along with Tonks and Remus, over to the buffet tables. They had previously been surreptitiously circling them since most of them hadn't already had breakfast.

Harry and Hermione went into Minerva's main office to use the portkey icons installed there. Since they were heading to the office of the Fortress to start, they just held hands and Harry activated the charm.

* * *

When Hermione walked up to the dormitories for werewolves, she wasn't entirely surprised to find that all of them, for the most part, were in the common area of the men's section. Amaris was missing from the gathering, as was Ararna, but their advanced age would suggest that they were merely occupied with their post-breakfast naps. They had gathered around Savan and Kamalia who, despite their mutual protests to the contrary, were sitting close together; engaged in what appeared to be a discourse on the morning's events.

"...ister of Magic was there, as well," finished Savan as Hermione entered the room. He looked up and said, "Hermione. I thought you had class."

"Not so much since I married Harry," said Hermione, using another recondite pun. "I'm afraid I had to come rescue Minerva since she was outnumbered about ten to one."

"Outnumbered?" asked Kamalia.

"By idiots," replied Hermione. "They were talking about throwing rocks at moose in Canada by the time I got back, if you can believe it. We're back on track, again, though. I've come to get those memories we were discussing, if you don't mind." She held out the vials.

"Coming up," said Kamalia, rising to her feet. She took a vial from Hermione and went over to a nearby table, uncorking it as she walked. Savan followed behind, slowly repeating her actions.

"Now watch how I do it, Savan," ordered Kamalia. "You just have to bring up the memory in a general way to start." She concentrated and within a few seconds, she seemed satisfied. "The next part involves one of two nonverbal spells. One will copy the memory onto a thread of consciousness and the other will actually remove it from your own mind; sort of like a self-imposed obliviate. In either case, you put just a little pressure on the thread as it comes out and it'll attach itself to the end of your wand. Don't pull too hard, though. When you reach the end of the memory, you give a nonverbal Finite spell and you'll have a long string of thought hanging there. Just put it in the bottle and flick it off your wand tip. Piece of cake."

"So what's the spell to copy the memory?" asked Savan.

"Effingo Memoria," answered Kamalia. "When you do that, your mind will take the memory you're thinking of and make it super-organized. You'll be able to very accurately determine what part of the memory you want to see. Cast the spell Inceptus when you reach the start. With a bit of concentration, you can go quickly to the end and cast the Finite."

"It sounds simple enough," said Savan. "Go ahead and I'll watch." He wasn't the only one interested, it seemed. The other werewolves had gathered around. Included among them was Chad. He was still weak from the cure but not nearly as much so as Remus had been.

Following her own instructions, Kamalia closed her eyes and, with a moments concentration, began to pull a long, silvery thread from the side of her head. Within forty seconds, she opened her eyes and the thread fell limp from the end of her wand. She smiled and deftly let it fall in the vial. Stoppering it, she handed it to Hermione.

"I decided to start from just before we heard the brooms to when we heard those auror blokes talking," explained Kamalia.

"Thanks," said Hermione. "That should cover everything, then." She turned to Savan and said, "Your turn." Kamalia's explanation of how to used the spells, while not as detailed as Hermione would have liked, were sufficient to get the job done so she left well enough alone.

It took Savan a bit longer, perhaps due to his inexperience, but before long, he had his thread in the second vial.

"Thanks, again," said Hermione. "Now, Ian." She turned to face Ian Channing, a youngish, moderately tall wizard, though neither as young as Savan nor tall as Chad. "Because of the circumstances from this morning, Harry will have to wait until lunchtime to cure you. I'm sure you'll understand."

Ian was disappointed but it wasn't a long delay, so he said, "Of course."

"Candra," continued Hermione, looking for the forty-something witch with the flaming red hair. "You'll still be on schedule for around seven o'clock tonight." Candra, although facing a longer wait than Ian, was nevertheless glad that there would be no delays.

"You lot," said Hermione, indicating Savan and Kamalia, both still sitting before her, "need to observe at least one of these others being cured. I think that neither of you will have any difficulty but I want you to know what you're getting yourself into."

Savan and Kamalia could both feel the unease from the other werewolves as she said this. They all turned very grave at the reminder. More than one glanced at Magena, the ancient near-midget witch who hadn't seemed too happy even watching Chad's cure. Hermione noticed and decided to spend just a few more seconds to bring them all some hope.

"Poppy's pretty sure that a one-time use of a youth potion, although somewhat risky in it's own right, would temporarily allow those of you that are, uh..."

"I think the word you're searching for is 'old', my dear," interrupted the aforementioned witch. Everyone chuckled.

"Yes," agreed Hermione. "She thinks it would give you a good chance of surviving the somewhat arduous process."

"I'd recommend it," said Chad. "I'm not yet sixty and quite fit, I thought, but I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that the stress nearly killed, or at least seriously harmed me."

"I'm sure we'll have it all figured out when the time comes," said Hermione. "I have to be getting back. I'll see you at noon, Ian." With a brief spattering of farewells, she left and returned to the office. From there, she portkeyed back to the Headmistress's office.

* * *

"Bloody hell," said Hermione. She was standing in the doorway of Minerva's newest walk-in closet. No one was in sight. "I don't bloody believe this. I could be in Potions _learning_ something right now." She was about to leave when something, as well as someone, caught her eye. Setting on a small, sturdy table was Harry's pensieve. Standing on tiptoes, peering inside was Jumper.

"Harry Potter is showing his friends his magic bowl, Mistress," said Jumper.

"Is he," stated Hermione. Approaching it, she noticed that the surface of the liquid was; well, what _was_ it doing? Vibrating, she decided. Peering down into its depths, she saw a large group of people standing on what was quite obviously the back of Dragon Harry. They were moving very fast, indeed. "That lot goes off on more tangents that a trigonometry professor." With a grim expression, she lowered her face to touch the surface and was sucked in just like the rest.

"I still can't believe we aren't being blown off," said Tonks, straining to see.

"It's my memory," explained Harry, "so no matter what, you'll stay with it." He also was squinting forward into the gale winds, but his expression was of one used to such speeds.

Hermione, standing behind the group, adjusted her position to see between Rufus and Minerva. Ron was on his carpet near the front, instinctively grabbing for the untouchable scarf that was flapping wildly in the wind over the head of Winky. Up in the distance was Diagon Alley, nestled among the streets of London. They were approaching quite fast yet she could tell that they were still accelerating. The stirring strains of 'The Sea Hawk' added to the thrill of the attack. When she forced herself to keep her eyes open, she saw the shape of someone running towards a group of people. A dazzling flash of light was seen and then some quick flames. The running person was a witch, she now knew. She could make out the form of the girl she had saved as they ran into Gringotts. It was all coming up quite fast, now. Voldemort had raised his wand and was fighting an unseen foe. Actually, he was just too small to see. Jumper traded a half dozen volleys with Voldemort before the Dark Lord, seeing Harry's approach, ran for his life. As they swept away his bodyguards, everyone turned to watch the aftermath. At first, they saw nothing but the established buildings of Diagon Alley. As Dragon Harry quickly turned his head as he rose, his memory once again superimposed itself on the street behind them. There were several cheers as they saw Voldemort being flung backwards in the maelstrom of glass. Hermione's was among them. In the distance but coming up fast was the rest of the herd.

"Hermione," said Harry, walking, with difficulty, over to see her. He had to leave it at that as his alter ego began his strafing runs. They could not be dislodged from Dragon Harry but that didn't mean they couldn't _feel_ like they were about to be thrown off. The initial high speed, straight as an arrow assault was fairly easy to handle. Now, however, they were twisting every which way; blasting Death Eaters on each turn.

"Aaaiiiiiii!" screamed Hermione as Dragon Harry performed a perfectly executed inverted immelmann ending with a barrel roll that preceded a frantic skimming of the alley. This had the effect of terrorizing the 'riders' to the point of almost soiling themselves. They could not fall from Dragon Harry and they could not be hurt by the cobblestones a mere three inches 'over' their heads, but there's no way you could convince any of them of that.

"Aaaiiiiiii!" repeated Hermione. She had latched onto Harry and was seemingly trying to get inside his robes, and not for the usual reasons.

"Don't worry," said Harry, ridiculous as that advice was. "We'll be heading up any..." With a whiplash that would draw wire from a train track, they headed straight up.

"Aaaiiiiiii!" shouted Hermione for the third time. Harry, resigned to the fact that he was married to a timid woman, reluctantly ended the pensieve experience and everyone was suddenly, yet gently, ejected from the bowl. The general response seemed to be stepping sideways, or in the case of Tonks; backwards, several clumsy steps before obeying the law of gravity and embracing a wall or the floor; whichever came first. Ron's trajectory had carried him out of the room, but the sound of broken glass a moment later indicated that he had still paid the piper like the rest of them.

"Thank God!" gasped Minerva, lying prone on the floor. She decided at the last second not to kiss it but held that option open for later.

Harry, alone of all of them, seemed to have weathered the frenetic demonstration without consequence. "I thought you liked flying?" he asked, disingenuously.

"That wasn't flying," argued Shacklebolt. "That was a cardiac stress test." He had struggled into the first chair he could find, as did most of his comrades.

"Stop whining," ordered Rufus. He was assisting Minerva with rising. "Why I haven't felt so exhilarated since; well, last night to be honest, but..."

"Rufus," snapped Minerva as virtually everyone else in the room burst out in laughter at the unexpected indiscretion.

"What..." asked Hermione. She stopped to catch her breath, yet again. "What in the world possessed you people to let Harry take you along on that particular memory?"

"Harry thought it would be fun," said Ron, floating back over to set down on his bench. He had to right it first, due to Franklin's inability to hurdle it moments earlier.

"Harry _still_ thinks it's fun," said Hermione, "but the rest of you should have enough common sense to know better."

"It started out alright," said Remus. "Even you seemed to enjoy the flight in. I'll have to agree that I could have missed the rest of it. Anyway, we seemed to have survived. Have you brought the memories that we're interested in?"

Hermione wasn't entirely satisfied with cutting off the discussion so quickly but decided to get back to business. "Yes," she said. She pulled the bottles out of her pocket and set them on the table next to the pensieve. As the locus of the ejection, it had suffered no disturbance and remained upright.

"Fine," said Harry. He dipped his wand in the pensieve and dispelled the memory still playing itself out. As he had the original in his head, he had no need of the copy. He looked at the first memory labeled, 'Savan Mingan at the Gates of Hogwarts. November 6th, 1997'. Hermione, despite her displeasure at being involved instead of in class, had nevertheless remained at her usual level of competency when retrieving the memories. He poured the memory into the basin.

"Do we need everyone?" asked Hermione. She was a bit surprised that they had all been able to fit during the last pseudo adventure.

"No," said Harry. "A couple of Rufus' friends hadn't been in a pensieve before so that was just a demonstration. I think the three of us plus Rufus and Minerva, maybe Remus since he was a werewolf; Tonks, too, I suppose, along with an auror or two in case they might recognize one of them that we don't." He was trying to think if he had missed any contingencies.

"So everyone, then?" asked Hermione.

"I suppose," said Harry, shrugging. "Ladies first," he said, stepping aside for Hermione and Tonks.

* * *

Within a few seconds, they were all crowded around the cuddling couple. Hermione, remembering how this pair had tried to deny any sort of romantic feelings for each other, tried to reconcile that fact with the image before her. She couldn't.

"Bloody hell," said Ron in an awestruck voice. "Will you look at that." He held out his hand towards the woods.

Harry, along with most of the others, gazed out in the indicated directions. At first, he didn't see anything unusual. There were some early birds fluttering around singing their little heads off; a few rabbits running across a clearing; some field mice sticking their heads up out of their burrows. Wait. That was it.

"Why is everything so... clear?" asked Tonks, voicing the question in all of their minds. All of them, of course, except for Remus.

"We're in the memory of a werewolf," explained Remus. "The eyes of a wolf take in everything. It's one of several advantages, actually, of having that particular curse. Not that I miss it enough to want to be re-bitten, but it did take a little getting used to once it was gone."

"Is this...?" began Hermione but they all turned at once and faced down the valley. Even with their wolf eyes, they couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Their wolf ears, however, were working in spades.

"Damn, that's annoying," said Tonks. She had her hands over her ears to dull the high pitched whistling.

"They're coming in fast," said Savan from behind them. "Lots of them. We'd better get out of sight." The large group watched as Kamalia, with a nod to Savan, joined him in hiding behind some acacia bushes.

"Here they come," said Franklin, pointing down the valley. He instinctively started to find some cover for himself before realizing what he was doing.

"Keep your eyes open," ordered Rufus. "See if you can recognize any of them."

As the flyers zipped up the valley, they did something very strange. Although quite sharp and detailed for most of the trip, they occasionally turned into nothing more than blurs. This confused most of them until Hermione, remembering that they were in a bowl and not standing in front of Hogwarts, looked back at Savan. For the most part, he watched intently, as did Kamalia. Every so often, though, he glanced down at her. She was holding tightly onto his arm as the men approached. Hermione came to the conclusion that the Death Eaters would go out of focus occasionally in her memory, as well.

When they reached the gates, the lead rider raised his wand and called out "Morsmordre." The Dark Mark appeared overhead as the two white packages were flung over the gates. Tonks, who happened to be standing the closest to the impact point, winced as they hit.

"It's Snape," said Harry with disgust. "I recognize his voice." Indeed, despite the darkness, skull faceplates and full robes, the caster of the Dark Mark could have been none other than Harry's old nemesis, Severus Snape.

Twirling his wand over his head to gather his troops, he led the charge back the way they had come.

The thundering booming of Fang was heard moments later, followed by Hagrid's initial questions.

"Come on," whispered Savan, hoarsely. "Let's get the hell out of here." They then performed their mutually exclusive escape before Savan took things, namely Kamalia's hand, by the hand and they both scurried off down the road.

"Okay," said Rufus, taking control, "did anyone see anything else that might help identify any of them?"

"I think I saw," began Dawlish, having to pause at the sound of additional barks from Fang followed by the shouts of Hagrid. "I think one of them throwing the heads had a tattoo of some kind on his wrist."

"It wouldn't be the Dark Mark, would it?" asked Ron, slightly skeptically.

"No," said Dawlish, equally condescendingly. "It was too near the hand. I just caught a glimpse but it seemed to have wings." He, along with everyone else then turned back at the thumping sounds of Hagrid rushing to the castle. Oddly, there was no sign of Hagrid; just his sounds.

"This is weird," said Harry. "They're halfway to Hogsmeade but they can hear well enough to make it sound just like Hagrid heading to Hogwarts."

"I know," said Tonks. "I tell you, I'll miss this eyesight, too."

"Was there anything else we need to watch for next time?" asked Hermione. She was recalled, after all, to keep them all on track.

"If we could pick off a serial number from the brooms," suggested Franklin, "that might lead us to its owner."

"Good suggestion," said Harry. "I'll restart the memory and everyone try to pick out the details we've discussed." With a wave of his wand, the world suddenly darkened a bit and Savan was once again sitting with Kamalia in his arms.

* * *

Within the hour, they had reviewed Kamalia's memory, as well as Savan's, several more times. Only partial numbers could be recognized from the brooms but the tatoo was positively identified as that of a thestral. With no further information to be gained, and with a gesture from Harry, they left the pensieve in the same manner as before but with a much better aftermath.

"Jumper," asked Harry when everyone had exited safely, "do any of the sentry elves have any further sightings or unusual reports?"

"No, Harry Potter," replied Jumper. "No one who isn't supposed to be being near Hogwarts is being near Hogwarts, Harry Potter."

"Very well," said Harry. "Recall your elves. I'd like at least one observer on the Astronomy tower at all times from now on. Have a suitable shelter built, of course. Were you watching from outside the pensieve?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered Jumper.

"They came in quick and in force," stated Harry. "If that happens again; and it might; I want them captured or killed. Don't waste time waiting for me. Just get your team out there as fast as possible." He knew that with _The Voice_, they could attack with a small army in a matter of seconds.

"Yes, Harry Potter," agreed Jumper. "No one is being throwing heads at Hogwarts anymore." He had not cared for the 'message' that was sent this morning any more than Harry had. Having his orders, he popped off.

"Rufus," said Harry. "Your men should be able to match at least a couple of those partial serial numbers. I'm not sure if the tattoo will be much help but it was obviously done in a magical tattoo parlor so that should help speed up the search. If there's anything unusual about the heads, let us know, of course."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Rufus, blankly. He then chuckled at his inside joke.

"I'm sorry, Rufus," said Harry. "It's just been a full morning and we aren't even done. We have to talk to Diben's wife, yet. I still don't know what to say to her. And then I'm scheduled to cure a werewolf. That was supposed to have happened already, in fact."

"I told him you'd do him around noon," said Hermione. "I forgot about talking to Cathy. I guess I won't be making any of my classes, this morning."

"I think that Luna should join us when we talk to Cathy," suggested Minerva. "She's pretty good at helping people through times like this." She had observed that even the imperious Narcissa Malfoy had finally been won over by the odd, young witch.

"Us?" asked Hermione.

"Well," said Minerva, "as Harry's already taken command of the defense of the school, I felt that the least I could do is try comfort the families of those he's vanquished."

"Would you rather be looking through the files at the Nimbus offices?" asked Rufus. "Not that I'll be doing that, either. That's what junior members are for." He glanced at the younger members of Kingsley's and Jack's teams.

"Speaking of odd jobs, Minister," said Shacklebolt, "did you want a news blackout on the heads? Everyone who knows about them is still in this room."

"Yes," said Rufus, thinking. "I suppose that would be the best, for now. It might save more than one appetite from being ruined while reading the Daily Prophet over breakfast."

"I'm not sure they know what was in the sheets," said Hermione, "but I'll mention to Savan and Kamalia to keep that to themselves, anyway."

"Fine," said Rufus. "Be sure you mention that to Frank Sojourn, as well, when you take them to St. Mungo's for analysis, Jack."

"_I _get to take them?" asked Dawlish, queasily.

"Yes," said Rufus. "Tell him that if word leaks out, heads will roll." Harry laughed out loud before he could stop himself . Ron joined in, but managed to keep his cackle a bit quieter.

"Am I going to have to separate you two?" asked Minerva of Harry and Rufus, speaking with her hands on her hips as if she were talking to a couple of brash first years.

"No, ma'am," said Rufus and Harry, simultaneously. They looked at each other and both burst out with another, more annoying round.

"I give up," said Minerva, turning to leave the room.

"I find that a quick whack on the head helps," suggested Hermione, following her.

"That keeps Harry in line?" asked a cynical Minerva.

"No," said Hermione. "I meant it helps me to feel better about it." Both witches laughed as the rest of the room slowly emptied out.

Author's Note: I hope everything makes sense. I'm posting this late at night, as usual, so a lot might get by me.

Dad


	88. Chapter 88

Chapter 88 - Prime Target

November 6th, 1997

Just past noon in one of the underground flats

"I'm glad you didn't bring any men," said Cathy. "We just started a minute or so ago and it's a bit hard to stop." Her youngest was getting her lunch while her mother talked. At eight months, she was still breast-feeding, of course, but had the occasional spoon of strained carrots. Harry had actually planned on coming but was exhausted from the exertion of curing Ian Channing and was engaged in a quick nap.

"Are your other children receiving the proper nutrition, as well?" asked Minerva. Hogwarts elves, although very practiced in the culinary arts, didn't have much experience preparing meals for children as young as Cathy's.

"No," said Cathy, surprised. "I weaned them both off when they were around two."

"I believe the Headmistress was referring to their needs _now_," said Hermione. "Are we supplying the types of food they're used to?"

"They haven't been complaining," replied Cathy. "I usually do the cooking, though. Jerome, of course, has to have his toast trimmed or he won't eat it. Seth told him that eating the crust would make his hair curly. That seemed to terrorize him, for some reason."

"I'm glad they're adjusting," said Hermione. "Have you been receiving everything else you need? With three young children, I'm sure we've forgotten _something_."

"Diapers," said Cathy. "I only had time to grab a couple. The elves are good about washing them quickly, but Tracy has a pretty high output. By the time they bring one back, we're ready to use it."

Hermione made a note. While she did this, Luna asked, "So where are your other children?" They hadn't been seen or heard, but Minerva and Hermione, both of which had already seen and heard both of the boisterous boys, weren't complaining.

"I've got them trained to take a nap while I'm tending to Tracy. They're still young enough to need the rest, anyway, and it makes it nicer for their sister and mum." She transferred Tracy from the left one to the right.

"It's nice that you have such a large family," said Luna. "I'm an only child and sometimes I wish I had a brother or sister."

"It's a mixed blessing," said Cathy. "I love my children, of course, but they can be a handful. Still, Joe and I are planning on at least one more." Insert uncomfortable silence here.

"About that," began Hermione.

"Could I hold your baby for a bit?" interrupted Luna. She had assumed, quite correctly, that holding a baby in your arms, suckling no less, while being told that your husband and the father of your children is dead, might not be in the baby's best interest.

"What?" asked Cathy, distracted by the unusual request. "Oh, well, I don't know. She seems to be done, I guess. Have you ever held a baby before?"

"Well, no," said Luna, honestly. "Now that you mention it, the opportunity hasn't come up before." It occurred to her that it was quite odd that she'd managed to live through the first sixteen years of her life without having had that experience.

"Let me show you, then," said Cathy. She had learned by her third child that any offer from even a remotely competent person to take care of one of them, however briefly, should not be wasted. With a turn in her chair as Luna came around the table, she showed the young girl how to cradle the head of the baby girl in the crook of her elbow while holding the body securely with both arms. Luna was a natural.

"Oh, this is nice," she said. "I was so looking forward to this with my first child." She tried to maintain the smile she had when she first held the baby but her outward expression was belied by the pair of tears that were slowly making their way down to her chin.

"You say that like it will never happen," said Cathy. "Surely you're still much too young to be worrying about having children."

"Oh, I know," said Luna, slipping back a bit into her detached state. "I'm just sad that Draco won't be the father, anymore."

"Draco," asked Cathy. "Draco Malfoy? We heard that he was either dead or captured."

"He was captured by Harry," explained Luna. "He changed, though, and tried to atone for his past. Headmistress McGonagall," she indicated Minerva, "let him come back to Hogwarts under a false name. I was his girlfriend."

"And now you've broken up," stated Cathy, smiling understandingly.

"Oh, no," said Luna, rocking Tracy gently in her arms. "He was killed at Harry's funeral. He saved my life, as well as many others, but the Death Eaters killed him, in the end."

Cathy didn't know what to say. Joe hadn't talked much about that day except to say how terrified he had been of the dragons. He certainly wouldn't have had anything to do with killing a boy young enough to be this girl's boyfriend. "I... I'm sorry that your boyfriend was killed," she said, finally. "I..." She really didn't have anything else to add and went silent.

When Luna also remained silent, rocking back and forth with Tracy, Hermione decided that the time had come. "I'm afraid that we have some bad news for you, Cathy. You see, there's been an accident."

"An accident?" asked Cathy. "Was Joe hurt?" She was decidedly anxious, at this point.

"Yes," said Hermione. "We were talking to him at our facilities near the North Pole when... well, he ..."

"I told you it wasn't safe up there," said Cathy, springing to her feet. "It's so cold and..."

"It didn't have anything to do with the cold," said Minerva, using her authoritative voice. "Now have a seat and we'll tell you what happened." Cathy had been out of Hogwarts for ten years, but she still had the proper reaction to McGonagall giving her a direct order.

When Cathy had sat back down, Minerva said, "I'm afraid Joe is... dead." She stopped there; waiting.

Cathy sat dumbfounded. After a few seconds, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"There was an accident," began Hermione. "He was showing.."

"Joe's dead?" asked Cathy, still in disbelief. Her tears had started but her body hadn't caught up, yet.

"Yes," confirmed Hermione. "He was showing us these.."

"What happened?" asked Cathy, bringing the logically minded Hermione to think 'If you'd shut up, I'd tell you.' That, of course, wouldn't be quite as compassionate as she'd like.

"We were talking to him," said Hermione. "We'd asked about the new job you'd mentioned and he demonstrated it for us." She looked closely at Cathy and asked, "Do you know what a stored spell is?" She waited for an answer.

"Uh, huh," mumbled Cathy. "It's a way to put a spell, or a bunch of spells into an object to use later."

"Well," continued Hermione, "Vo... The Dark Lord made up a lot of them, apparently, and gave sets of them to people like Joe. They cast an incredibly powerful anti-apparation ward when activated. The only problem with this spell is that it uses up the life of the caster to cast the spell. Joe put these two steel balls together and..." She motioned putting her hands, holding imaginary balls, together. "Well, it was quick and seemed painless."

Cathy sat quietly. She looked like she was waiting for the rest of the story. After a few seconds, Minerva asked, "Do you understand, Cathy?"

"No!" shouted Cathy, causing Tracy to react to her mother's distress. "I don't! Why would the Dark Lord give something so dangerous to Joe?" She backed away from them all, perhaps afraid she'd be the next one to have an 'accident'.

"He wants Harry dead," stated Hermione. "You see..."

"Then why wouldn't he give Harry Potter these steel balls?" asked Cathy. She was still sure that these people had somehow killed Joe and were trying to blame either the Dark Lord or Joe, himself, for it.

Hermione, distracted for a moment by the thought that such an obvious trap would have a fifty-fifty chance of working on her husband, said, "The plan was for your husband to use this spell and give his life to make it harder for Harry to escape while the rest of the group he was with would try to kill him."

"But Joe has a wife and children," countered Cathy. "The Dark Lord wouldn't make him do something that would kill him." Clearly, she hadn't read Voldemort's brochures.

"The Dark Lord doesn't care about Joe's family," said Hermione. "In fact..." She paused; wondering if now was the time to bring up the next part.

"What?" asked Cathy, suddenly more fearful than upset. "You don't think the Dark Lord would try to hurt our children, do you?" She rose suddenly and went to retrieve Tracy who was sleeping contentedly in the arms and lap of Luna. As a baby, she still went on her instincts and, as such, knew she was safe with Luna. Of course, her mother fit in that same category and she barely stirred during the transfer.

"Not your children," said Minerva. "They're safe here, in any event. No, the other bad news concerns your husband's parents. I'm afraid they're dead, too."

"What?" asked Cathy, yet again. "Jake and Millie?" She was starting to get that panicked look that naturally came along for the ride with multiple pieces of bad news.

"Yes," confirmed Hermione. "Their, ah... We learned of their deaths this morning. A note was sent that left no doubt that their murders were punishment for Joe's desertion." She had almost told her about the delivery of the note but had caught herself, thankfully, at the last second.

"This..." began Cathy. "This is all... so unbelievable. I knew that Joe wanted to move up in the ranks but he wasn't all that important to the Dark Lord. Why would he go to so much effort just because Joe wanted out?"

"To give the rest an example," said Minerva. "Some others, with or without wives and children, might be tempted to follow in Joe's footprints. Even though Joe escaped, Voldemort," she had to pause a moment as Cathy stiffened and gave out a slight whimper at the mention of Voldemort's name, "was still able to punish him by the horrific murder of his parents. He sent eight men to do this so word will spread among the Death Eaters. Anyone who has any sort of family won't consider leaving him, anymore."

"Oh, Joe," she moaned. "Joe; we should have stayed home." The reality had, as it had done with Hermione, taken time to soak in, but she now was forced to confront the fact that her husband, who she loved very much, was dead. She put her head against her daughter's and began to cry, softly. Tracy reached up with a surprisingly compassionate expression and put her hand on her mother's tear-soaked cheek. The sight of this brought the other three women in the room to the conclusion that Cathy's greatest source of comfort was already in her arms.

* * *

Around six-thirty that night

Harry and Hermione approached the men's werewolf dormitory. They were informed by Jumper that it was almost at capacity. There were now eighteen residents of this section. The number of women had also increased during the day to thirteen. They had one more empty dorm for each gender in reserve but the growing population would have to be addressed sooner, rather than later. Hermione had anticipated this from the start and was actually surprised that they weren't filling up faster. For the moment, though, a more immediate concern was at the forefront of her thoughts.

"I spoke to Professor Triffle between classes," said Hermione. "He's agreed to let some of the NEWT students brew the wolfsbane potion for extra credit. I'm not sure exactly how many werewolves there are in Great Britain but it's unlikely you'll get through them all before mid-December. I'm hopeful that most will be done by then so this will be the only big push."

"Is it safe for so many of them to be together?" asked Harry. "I mean when they change. Even with the potion, there might be problems."

"Who can say?" asked Hermione, rhetorically. "It's unusual for so many to be together in the first place. I suppose we could just ask what they think." They reached the main door and, although it was ajar, knocked twice before entering the common area.

"Harry Potter!" shouted one of the new arrivals when he saw who had knocked. "I'm so very happy to meet you, Mr. Potter." He looked it, too. The other recent guests also gathered around with many words of greeting and thanks.

"I'm very happy to meet you all," said Harry after they had calmed down a bit. "Now, as I'm sure you've heard, we're doing everyone in order. It's Candra's turn tonight, but I'm going to slip in someone else tomorrow. Ararna will be cured in the morning, as scheduled, but the rest will move back one position. My wife, Hermione," he gestured to his wife, "has some other information and a couple of questions for you."

Hermione then explained the reasons behind only having two cures per day, with nods all around from those that had seen the effort involved, and that some of them, and all of those that would arrive in the days to come, would have to suffer at least one more transformation. The mood drop at this news was attenuated a bit by the information that wolfsbane potion would be provided. The general consensus was that no more than three of them should be confined to any one area during the full moon. The full moon was next Thursday so Harry decided to prepare the lock-down quarters over the weekend.

When they had finished with that business, Hermione said, "Okay, Candra. It's time." Candra Rolding, or Candy as most of her friends called her, stood up and, beaming like a bride preparing to walk down the aisle, walked towards the door, basking in the good wishes of her peers.

"Savan," said Harry. "You, too, Kamalia. It's your turn to witness." They were not present at the curing of Ian, this morning and, after hearing the details from the other, more experienced werewolves, they weren't sure they wanted to see it at all. Hermione had insisted, however, that anyone that wanted to be cured had to see what it was like. Chances were, like the others who were with Chad, once would be enough. Ian had to be slipped in on short notice so only Remus represented his brethren at that procedure.

Reaching one of the kiosks of icons, they transported to the hospital wing.

* * *

"Hello, Harry," said Poppy, bringing out a tray of iron replenishing potions. "Remus said to tell you that Tonks had heard back on some project she was working on and that they'd have to miss this evening's session." She walked over to examine Candy a bit more closely.

"Bloody liar," muttered Hermione. "He just doesn't want to watch." If the truth were known, she didn't want to watch, either, but if Harry could put up with the pain, she could stand with him.

"Step over here, miss," said Poppy. Candy stood in the middle of the pads, breathing deeply in anticipation of the pain she knew would be coming but smiling, nevertheless. "Now, you stand behind her, young man," said Poppy, indicating Savan. At his confused look, she said, "Hermione and I'll be busy. Just make sure that she doesn't hurt her head or anything when she collapses."

Savan stood behind Candy, disconcerted by the use of the phrase 'when she collapses' instead of 'if she collapses'. Kamalia, although not asked to help, took up a position just behind Harry.

Harry, although appreciative of the gesture, didn't want the five foot, two inch tall and borderline elderly Kamalia to injure herself. "I'm going down, too, Kamalia," said Harry, "so don't try to stop me. Just make sure Candra and I don't bang against each other, okay?" He smiled back at her as he held out his arms to Poppy and Hermione.

"I'll try," answered Kamalia, wondering what she was getting into. She found out.

Although only lasting a few minutes, it was nearly all that she could do to remain nearby, just in case she was needed. Candy had fallen to the floor almost immediately. Savan was doing his best to prevent her from hurting herself while not holding her in a way that might be considered inappropriate. Harry, of course, was swaying from side to side while he battled the blood that wanted to take over his body. Shocked at the ferocity of both of their convulsions, Kamala felt her breathing becoming more and more constricted as her terror edged ever upwards. When it was finally over, Savan was holding the semi-unconscious Candy while Poppy enervated her so that she could handle drinking the first potion.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Kamalia, tears pouring down her eyes.

"I'll be fine," said Harry, resting on his knees for a moment longer before allowing Hermione to help him to his feet. "Wow!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "That's not getting any easier." He smiled as he said it but it was enough to tip the balance for Kamalia. Jumping up, she ran out the doors of the infirmary.

Savan watched her leave, concern on his face. Hermione knelt down and, with a gesture, took over the care of Candy. With a nod, he rose and, hesitantly, pursued his... friend.

* * *

It wasn't hard for Savan to find Kamalia. He could track her by scent, if necessary, but she hadn't gone far. Just down the corridor, she had stopped at the first window she came across and had flung it open, letting in the brisk, November cold. Standing on her tip-toes and trembling violently, she was hanging her head out, breathing in the fresh air.

Savan came up behind her and, without having many other options, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back to his chest. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart; the shaking of her body. The moist vapor of her breath, made visible by the incoming breeze, drifted up and mixed with his own and he could sense the pheromones of fear. What he didn't feel was her pulling away. Slowly, over the course of about a minute or two, she calmed down and, with a real shudder at the cold, she turned around in his arms and put her own around him, as far as she could.

"I can't," she cried. "I can't. I can't. I can't." She sobbed onto his shoulder; he was, after all, only three inches taller than her, and let her fears flow with her tears. "I can't do that. I can't... the way she was flopping around. So much pain. Did you see?" She looked into his eyes, now inches from hers.

"It was hard to miss," said Savan, trying desperately to think of something he could say to comfort his obviously panicked friend. He was starting to get cold, himself, and led her to a nearby bench. He sat down first, attempting to guide her next to him but she had a different idea. With a quick turn to the side but without completely releasing him, she impetuously sat on his lap, hugging him close when she had finished.

Surprised, but deciding to stay on topic, Savan said, "You'll be just fine. I'll be with you and we'll get through it, together." Kamalia didn't say anything to this but felt comforted by his offer. For his part, Savan couldn't think of any other words of support so he decided to stick with the basics and just held her closer to him. She instinctively reciprocated, relaxing into his chest even further. For the next few minutes, the two of them, but especially Kamalia, just sat there, relishing the moment.

* * *

Poppy checked the status of her new charge after she'd managed to finish the third flask. Just as before, the immediate application of three iron replenishing potions warded off the bulk of the fallout from curing her lycanthropy. Ian, who was currently reclining in the bed next to Candy's, had recovered to the point that she would probably release him in an hour or so, at least to the point where he could return to his friends. That, too, seemed to be the likely outcome for the morning patients. Slowly, but surely, she was developing her protocols. Tomorrow, a new wrinkle would be added. The aged wizard, Ararna Reule, would be taking a youth potion before his cure. This brought in new variables and potential problems. She was sure, however, that by the time the second week started, they'd have everything figured out. She tried not to think about the damage being done to Harry. He was obviously suffering during the procedure but he seemed to be able to take care of himself. It was a good thing. If he wasn't so resilient, she'd forbid further cures for his health and her sanity.

Harry, for his part, had managed to recover enough within a couple of minutes to consider getting up and heading off to bed. He had an idea pop into his head an hour or so earlier but wasn't sure he had the energy to pursue it, at the moment. Looking around, he noticed that Savan and Kamilia had already left, anyway."Where'd Savan go?" asked Harry. Now that the opportunity appeared to be lost, he was more disappointed in the delay.

"He ran after Kamalia," said Hermione. "She was pretty upset after watching Candra and you."

"I suppose it is a bit shocking to the average person," said Harry, nodding his head. "I wanted to talk with him a moment. Let's see if they stopped somewhere." He rose, as did Hermione.

"What did...?" began Hermione before she was interrupted.

"Mr. Potter," said Ian Channing in his refined and well-educated voice. "I need to thank you." He held out his hand, which Harry readily took. Smiling, Ian added, "I believe that's probably the understatement of the year." They both laughed.

"I'm glad to do it," said Harry. He then thought that 'glad' might not be the correct term but decided to keep that to himself.

"I doubt it," said Ian. "I'm glad you _did_ it, however." He chuckled once more before taking on a more serious expression. "I've been thinking, during the course of the day, and I'd like you to do me one more favor, if you would."

"Sure," said Harry, automatically. "Anything I can do to help, just ask."

"Well, that's the point," said Ian. "As was mentioned last night, I was fortunate enough to be born into money. As you've no doubt noticed, most of my kind..." He paused, smiling again. "Most of the werewolves; a group to which I no longer belong, were not so lucky. The reason some took so long to arrive here was they didn't have enough silver for even the Night Bus."

"We're fully aware of the restrictions placed on werewolves, regarding employment," said Hermione, grimly.

"Exactly," said Ian. "Now, it might take some of them a bit of time to establish a reliable income." He leaned in and lowered his voice before adding, "The older ones like Amaris and Magena won't have that option, of course." He straightened back up and made his proposal. "Basically, Mr. Potter, I'd like to transfer some of my hereditary fortune to you. If you could then provide sufficient funds to each of my former friends as you deem appropriate, depending on their circumstances, I would feel I've repaid at least part of my debt to you."

Harry, who had already had similar thoughts, at least regarding the future former werewolves who would need a pension, said, "I'd be happy to do that, Ian. I assume you wish to remain anonymous?"

"Of course," said Ian. "Who handles your financial matters?"

"A lot of people," said Harry, "but I think Remus would be the man for this. As you might have heard, he's out of town but I'll have him see you before you leave."

"Excellent," said Ian. "If you'll excuse me, I need to see Madam Pomfrey about being released." He left graciously and went to see the nurse.

* * *

"That was nice of Ian," said Hermione as she and Harry headed out the hospital doors. "I had a bit of an irrational dislike of him, probably from the aristocratic nature of his voice, but he's alright."

"Sounds a little like Lucius," agreed Harry. "I suppose you shouldn't judge people by the way they talk."

"I've learned my lesson," said Hermione. She stopped, causing Harry to look back at her. Hermione flicked her head in the direction in front of them and Harry noticed the 'friends' were apparently having quite an intimate moment.

"Ahem," said Hermione, smiling. "Have we decided to..."

"Kamalia," said Harry, rushing forward. "What's the matter?" His voice was full of concern as he sat down on the far side of them, facing her.

Kamilia, perhaps both surprised that they were discovered and that Harry had noted her state of mind, leaned back from Savan's chest and, sniffing a bit from her tear induced runny nose, said, "I'll be alright. I... I'll be fine. It was just so scary; watching you and Candy, flailing around... oh, I'm sorry." When she had said the word 'flailing', she made the unfortunate decision to demonstrate. Savan rubbed his nose and pretended to pull it back straight.

"Well," said Harry, smiling at Savan's reaction to her accident, "I can't tell you that it isn't as bad as it looks because it is. This is why we want everyone to see what they're up against. I _will_ remind you that the full moon is next week. Whether or not you want to see it as a wolf or a woman is up to you."

"I think she'll be ready by the time it's our turn," said Savan. "We have until Monday, after all."

"I think you're right," agreed Kamalia. "I'm just... well, I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Really?" asked Harry. "I'd heard that some women stop aging at twenty-nine."

"And when that stops working; thirty-nine," added Kamalia, laughing. She had tried that herself, for a few years. "I'm not old. I'm just not young, anymore."

"We discussed that, already," said Hermione. "We're going to offer the _really_ old people some youth potion. It's not exactly easy on the body, but it'll offer some help resisting Harry's treatment. Maybe a sip or two would ease your worries."

"It might," said Kamalia, relaxing a bit more now that a reasonable suggestion has been made to help her live through the treatment.

"Fine," said Harry. "Now, before I forget, again, I'd like to ask Savan if he'd be willing to do me a favor."

"Just name it," said Savan, eagerly.

"Well," began Harry...

* * *

Later that night

"There's two more," said Ball. He was watching through the night-vision omnioculars as a gaggle of Death Eaters arrived for a meeting at the home of Artemis Derrick. So far, only Derrick, himself, and Biff Burdin showed up on the magical map. Derrrick; although associated with the Death Eaters, had never received the Dark Mark so he showed up as a normal wizard. Burdin, though, still came through with red lettering. Although no specifics were given, it was passed along that any Death Eaters that showed up on the map were less than top shelf. The other three men in the room, by virtue of not being identified at all, were presumed to be standard issue, competent Death Eaters.

"That might be all," said Caro, a forty-something Auror with a stocky, but not overly so, frame with a slight graying around his temples. He had been a generally jovial member of the Auror Corps until recently. The shock and shame of having his only son, Lamont, join the Death Eaters a few month earlier had sent him into a tailspin that only the personal intervention of his old mentor, Rufus Scrimgeour, had helped him to pull out of. Rufus had multiple reasons for taking the time; most pragmatically that he couldn't afford to lose someone of Mort Caro's caliber now that he was trying to rebuild the Auror Corps back after Fudge had so effectively eviscerated it. The news of some sort of a loyalty spell gave Caro some consolation but his son had been killed while attacking Hogsmeade, so it wasn't possible to know for sure if that was the reason that the formerly loyal and dedicated boy had gone bad.

"They're sitting down," reported Ball. "One of them is talking; I don't recognize him. The others are listening to... Wait! The others are all talking now. They look a bit shocked, if I had to guess."

"Let me have a look," said Caro. He took the omnioculars from Ball and focused them. The five men were indeed seen to be agitated about something. Two had stood up and were pacing back and forth. One of the two stopped and, with dramatic hand gestures, seemed to be trying to get confirmation from the original speaker. The other pacer, perhaps a bit more paranoid than the others, looked around and, without hesitation, he pulled the two shades that the advance team had carefully raised that afternoon while Derrick was out.

Caro put the omnioculars down. "Let's go. My contact said they're planning something big so let's not let them get away. Henry. You're leading us in. Blast that door clean off its hinges. Todd. Throw the stun sticks through the window about two seconds before we hit the house. The rest of us will follow Henry. Don't take any chances; just stun them."

Auror Todd Ball took out his stun sticks. They were weighted to be able to break glass with relative ease. Henry Worth, who's day had started out with a trip to Hogwarts and a return with two heads, was glad to be getting back to the regular run-of-the-mill auror activities that were the reason he had joined up in the first place. Blasting doors at a dead run might be a cheap thrill, but it was still a thrill.

* * *

The fireplace blazed green. It was just after ten o'clock so this was expected. Biff Burdin and Goldie Hanson stepped out into Artemis Derrick's parlor. "Evening, Goldie," said Artemis in greeting.

"Good evening," replied Goldie. "Step forward, Biff." He nudged the other man forward as the fireplace erupted again and two more wizards stumbled out.

"Almost went by, we did," said Peter Pummet, brushing himself off.

"You were standing on my foot," retorted John Jacob, irritably. "Would've been our luck to fall out at the Ministry by mistake."

"You're here, now, and that's all that matters," said Art. He led them over to his table. When they were seated, he began. "You'll all want to know what the big mission is, I'd expect," he said. "Well, I just got back with a meeting with Snape himself. He said it's because I never had the Dark Mark that I was given this assignment. I'll be able to go places that the regular Death Eaters can't. You lot're to help me."

"We know, we know," affirmed Goldie. "Just get on with it. What's the bloody job?"

"We," began Artemis Derrick, importantly, "are to capture if we can, or snuff out if we have to, the Prime Minister of these British Isles."

Goldie and Peter jumped to their feet in shock. "The Prime Minister?" exclaimed Peter, unable, it seemed, to believe his ears.

"That's right," answered Art. "Orders from You-Know-Who himself, I was told."

"You act like it's good news," said Goldie, looking around. He walked over to the shades and, pulling them down, added, "You'd better lay out the robes you'd like to be buried in, before we start."

"Why's he want him dead, anyway?" asked Biff. He wasn't the brains of the operation, by any means, but it was a valid point.

"Snape said it's because he's trying to do away with the House of Lords," answered Art. "It's been rumored that the Dark Lord wanted a seat there for himself. Wouldn't be much point if it didn't exist, now would it?"

"I suppose," said John, tiredly. "It's not our decision for who or why, anyway; just how and when. Now, were there any other specifics or deadlines?"

"The deadline for capturing him is the end of the year," said Art. "If that doesn't work out, we're to make sure he's dead by the first week of the new year."

"Blimey, that don't give us much time, does it?" exclaimed Goldie.

"It'll be enough," said Art. "We'll need to get some information before we can start. Fortunately, the muggles are more than eager to help us out. I'm told that in the Lobby of Parliament, there's a posting of everywhere old Tony's going to be for the next three months. We'll just pick out a good..."

A beeping sound started to emanate from a stuffed beaver sitting next to the fireplace. Everyone turned to look at it. Art jumped to his feet and shouted, "Someone's near. Peter; check the..."

There was a crash as the nearest window broke. Two thin dowel-shaped objects landed on the floor. An instant later and they exploded into a hail of toothpicks as a tremendous BOOM shook the entire house. All five men in the room belatedly put their hands over their ears as the front door flew inwards. It managed to flatten John Jacob without further assistance. Sailing in a moment later was Henry Worth, who, due to his alacrity, tripped over a small table set next to the door to receive keys, gloves and such when Artemis returned from his errands. Mort Caro and the rest of his team, however, were more than capable of hurdling him and, with an astonishing display of speed as well as legerity, they managed to stun the remaining Death Eaters along with Artemis without further trouble.

Within five minutes, they had secured and enervated the new prisoners. With one for each of them, they transported the dark wizards to the Ministry using Derricks own floo.

Unknown to any of them, however, was the fact that step one of Voldemort's latest plan was now successfully completed.


	89. Chapter 89

Chapter 89 - Alas, Poor Dudley

November 7th, 1997

"So, Harry," asked Ginny, examining the paper, "were you standing on a box or something?" Rita Skeeter's article on Hermione had made the front page, of course.

"No," said Harry. "Hermione was sitting down and I was standing behind her, leaning in. For some reason, they decided to make the picture a close up." The photo, displaying a fairly normal Harry from the chest up, featured Hermione grimacing quite a bit but not having the ability, as a mere photo in a newspaper, to speak or rise from her chair. Therefore, it looked quite believable that she was a good foot shorter than her husband.

"I know the reason," said Hermione. "It ties in with the image of you they want to perpetuate; the tall, handsome hero. I'm average in height, for a woman, but you're only three inches taller than me. They want you to be the new Dumbledore and he was taller than Ron, even as an old man. I think this picture reflects what they think you _should _be." She flipped back to the front page; rolled her eyes in disgust and returned to her current story.

"Or," suggested Honey, "they wanted a tighter shot of the two of you and it came out this way by accident."

"With Rita Skeeter," said Hermione, not bothering to pull her head out of her paper a second time, "if there's a choice between a simple explanation and an obtuse, overly complicated and evil conspiracy, believe the conspiracy."

"She wasn't so bad during the interview," countered Harry. He looked at the photo, again. "It's not so terrible. I think any photo of the both of us that makes the front page is a good photo."

Hermione looked at the photo, again. Her image looked back at her and shrugged. Both of them then lightened up a bit. "I suppose," agreed Hermione. With a quickly suppressed smirk, she said, "I think I'm more upset about missing double Potions, yesterday. It was a cross-studies experiment with Herbology and would have been very useful if it had worked."

"What sort of an experiment?" asked Honey.

"Oh," said Hermione, glad that anyone, even Honey, had taken the bait," it was an attempt to make a topical potion combining the properties of poison ivy with a four leaf clover."

"What sort of a result were they looking for?" asked Neville, the resident Herbology expert.

"A rash of good luck," answered Hermione, her smirk returning.

"You bastard!" exclaimed Ginny, hitting Harry on the back of his head. "Look what you've done to her."

There followed a combination of groans at Hermione's joke and laughter at Ginny's reaction. It calmed down fairly quickly until Honey, leaning over next to Ron, asked in a slightly more audible than desired voice, "I don't get it. What did Harry do?"

* * *

As breakfast came to an end, they all made their way out of the Great Hall to head to their first classes. For the seventh years, this meant Defense Against the Dark Arts. An argument could be made that Hermione; who had three days earlier charged Lord Voldemort, Snape and Voldemort's bodyguard, along with a dementor while snatching a girl from under their noses, and Harry; who had then personally routed the Dark Lord and all of his hosts, had little need for the class. Still, Coldiron had a few tricks up his sleeve to share that made the classes generally both interesting and worthwhile. For this reason, they were all a bit less enthusiastic than normal in their response when a former DADA professor who was also a former werewolf, called out to them as they entered the hallway.

"Harry," called Lupin. They all looked at the sound but it took a moment to find him, concealed as he was in an alcove. When he waved, Harry and Hermione walked over, with Ron and Honey floating behind.

"Well, if it isn't our truant ex-werewolf," said Hermione. "I hope you brought a note for missing last night."

"As a matter of fact," said Remus, to Hermione, "I would much rather have been with you, last night, than where I was." Turning to Harry, he said, "I'm afraid I have disturbing news about your cousin."

"Dudley?" asked Harry. He looked at Hermione before turning back and asking, "What's up?" He hoped Dudley wasn't dead. Despite his tormented youth, he wouldn't want to report that news to his aunt and uncle.

"He's in prison," said Remus. "Or maybe in jail. I'm not sure what the difference is. Anyway, this all happened recently and Tonks and I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening tracking down your cousin as well as the details. She's down in Bisley, now; trying to arrange a meeting."

"Why's he in prison?" asked Harry.

"He stole a car, it seems," replied Remus. "Do you have time to discuss it?"

Harry looked at Hermione, again, as well as Ron and Honey. Honey, at least, needed to get to her classroom. "No," said Harry. "We have class, now, and I'm going to try to cure Ararna at ten. We can talk after that."

"I suppose he's not going anywhere," said Remus, surprised at Harry's uncharacteristically logical analysis of the situation. "It's just as well. I also have some good news of a more secret nature. Where shall I meet you?"

"In the hospital wing at ten," said Hermione. "You missed your turn last night so you can fill in for me. I have Runes." With a word of agreement from Remus, they left for class.

* * *

"Hair!" exclaimed Arnie Reule, the formerly bald octogenarian and soon to be ex-werewolf. For the moment, however, he was most excited about the return of some foliage on his head. True, he had plenty before, but this was growing on top, where it belonged, instead of sprouting from his eyebrows, ears and nose.

"You'll have about six hours to enjoy it," said Poppy. "Now, let's not keep Harry and Remus waiting."

With a quick, unsuccessful look around for a mirror, Arnie stepped over to the mats. Proudly throwing back his head and brushing his hair out of his eyes with his hands, he submitted himself to the cure. When they had finished and, although still exhausted from the ordeal, he managed to quip, "I've got to find a woman while it's still there." He was, of course, in no condition for anything beyond a cup of tea, but that didn't curtail his optimism, it seemed.

With Arnie tucked into bed, happy about being cured but still complaining of the injustice of losing his hair twice, and Candy Rolding having been released earlier that morning, Harry and Remus had a reasonable expectation of a secure chat. Harry, now a bit more experienced with his requirements for recovering from curing lycanthropy, was laying back in one of the spare beds while Remus pulled up a chair.

"From what I understand," said Harry, "I snore. If I'm not doing that, assume I'm listening." He was exhausted from his recent exertion and wanted to rest up. He may or may not make lunch but should be sufficiently recovered by Charms. That would only happen if he was totally relaxed for at least a couple of hours.

"Well," began Remus, not accustomed to delivering a monolog, "we had a difficult time even finding your cousin Dudley. He wasn't at his school. He wasn't at his house, at least not recently. We did find a few take-out containers and some beer and wine bottles but they seemed to be at least a couple of weeks old. Tonks then did a standard missing persons search through the Ministry. It's a bit harder when looking for a muggle but after the initial checks, at least we knew he wasn't in any of their hospitals or morgues. A cross check finally found him at Coldingley Prison. It's a medium sized prison for low level offenders in Bisley. That's a town in Surrey so you might be familiar with it." He waited to see if Harry wanted to comment. He didn't. "He was apparently apprehended a short time after he and one of his friends," at this point, Remus consulted a notepad, "Piers Polkiss, stole an auto for some reason. This occurred on October 29th. He had a hearing the next day and was apparently unable to post bail, so he was sent to Coldingley to await trial. He's had a few other brushes with the law as a minor so he could be looking at six months to a year in some sort of detention." Again, he waited to see if Harry would respond.

Harry, who hadn't heard anything surprising, and had even been expecting something of the sort for over two years, still decided that the news was dire enough to say, "I'll have to break it to my relatives. Probably be my fault, somehow. Let me know when the meeting is arranged."

"We're hoping for this weekend," said Remus. "Tonks is working on it, as I mentioned." He put the notepad away. Lowering his voice, he then said, "Now for the good news. It seems that Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he brought Dung into the Order. He heard about an important meeting of some Death Eaters and last night, a team of aurors was able to capture the villains before they did some damage. They're interrogating them, now, but from what Mundungus already knew, some sort of muggle official was the target. I'll keep you informed."

"That's great," said Harry. "Ask Poppy to poke me in the ribs around twelve-thirty, please." He prepared to roll over as Remus stood up. Before completing the motion, he asked, "Remus?"

"Yes, Harry," answered Remus, returning to his chair.

"Now that Hermione's not here," said Harry, in all seriousness, "I just wanted you to know that I don't blame you. You know; for the other werewolves. It's not your fault."

"Thanks, Harry," said Remus. "Get some rest." He watched as Harry finished rolling over to get some sleep. As he walked over to give Poppy his message, Remus reflected on the fact that, intentional or not, he had added another boulder to the group that this young Sisyphus would have to push up the mountain. It might not be for eternity, but with only five werewolves cured, including himself, it might seem like it to Harry by the time he finished them all.

* * *

"This one." Lord Voldemort set the photograph down on the table he had used to view all of the available properties that Richards had shown. Ordinarily, you would be able, at best, to narrow your choices down to three or four before having to view the finalists in person. In this case, however, Richards had struck gold. Just outside the town of Frassine, located in a remote area of Tuscany, was an ancient monastery surrounded by several hundred acres of vines and small woods. Unused for centuries, it was purchased relatively recently by an eccentric wine merchant and restored at great expense. He was unfortunate enough to pass on, through no fault of Voldemort's, and his family decided that they would rather have some of the fortune he had spent on the old abbey. The timing was perfect; the restoration complete. All he had to do was move in.

"Yes, Master," agreed Richards. "That seemed to be the best property, by far. The views of the vineyards are absolutely breathtaking." He sounded a little breathless when describing it. "I'll make all the arrangements for its purchase." He picked up the photos and descriptions of the losers. "It is unfurnished, as I mentioned. Do you have an idea on when you'll be needing it and also, the number of men that will be stationed there?" Richards, though odd in his own way, was very organized and efficient.

"I'll probably wish to spend some time there next month," replied the Dark Lord. "Have ten men quartered there for normal security and maintenance as soon as can be arranged. When I'm there, that number will be tripled, of course."

"Yes, Master," said Richards. "There's more than enough room. Would you like for me to do the decorating?" He seemed eager at the prospect.

"Yes," said Voldemort, with resignation. Richards could be annoying, at times, but he had a keen eye for style. Perhaps too keen. Then again, after originally throwing him out on his bum when he presented his suggested designs for color coordinating the Death Eaters by their relative rankings, he found himself thinking of how impressive some of the clothing had looked. The violet double-breasted dress robes in particular kept jumping to the forefront of his thoughts when he was walking among his men. Maybe he would try some just for his bodyguard with a crimson set for himself. The leather faux stitching on the sides was particularly fetching.

* * *

"For homework: determine the proper modifications to the wand movements to achieve a Mohs hardness of three, six and nine for each of the materials listed on the board. Note that in some of the cases, the altered material will be less hard than in its original form. Any questions?" Flitwick paused a moment before saying, "Very well. We'll be performing those charms next Wednesday. Good afternoon." With that, the diminutive professor floated to the floor and walked out the door with the rest of the class.

Almost the rest of the class. Harry and Ron, both uncharacteristically silent, were taking an abnormal amount of time to put away their books and materials. Hermione, of course, was all packed and eager to do Greyback and then hit the library before supper. When the boys were finally ready to follow her, she asked Harry with a concerned voice, "Are you still tired from this morning? Maybe you should delay doing Greyback until later." She had come to regret, almost, her decision to skip the earlier curing of Ararna Reule to attend Runes and thought that Harry might be pushing himself too hard to do two werewolves per day."

"Oh," replied Harry, thinking, "I'm a bit tired, I suppose. Nothing too serious, though. I'm just sort of confused about today's lesson."

"Why didn't you say something when Professor Flitwick asked?" asked Hermione.

"I didn't know what to say other than 'What in the bloody hell have you been talking about?' and I didn't think that would..."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione. "It couldn't have been clearer."

"Oh, yes it could," responded Ron. "I'm with you, Harry. Diamonds might be a ten but this class was an eleven."

"Oh, really," said Hermione with a humph, "all you have to do is combine the Transmorphicus charm with the Densiteri modifier necessary to either add or subtract from the pre-tensile crystalline structure inherent in the base substrate of the material you're adjusting. A simple subtractive spiral reversal is all that's needed to come up with any value you want. Any idiot could do it in their sleep."

"Fine," said Harry, hoisting his book bag over his shoulder. "I'll try it tonight and you let me know if it works." Ron laughed as he followed them out the door.

* * *

When Harry and Hermione approached Greyback's cell, they had to stop for a second to see if they were in the right section. Surely, this freshly bathed, clean shaven, well groomed and obviously nervous man couldn't be the notorious werewolf they had come to escort to the hospital wing. Upon closer examination, though, it was clear, despite the spit-shined boots and freshly brushed robes that he was, indeed, Fenrir Greyback.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Greyback when they popped into his cell, along with an escort of four red-robed elves.

"Good afternoon," replied Harry. "I must say you look particularly debonair, today."

"I should," replied Greyback. "I spent quite a bit of time preparing myself. I haven't been a man for decades, so I hope I didn't leave anything out."

"Even the Sisters of Mercy couldn't find anything to complain about," offered Hermione, looking him over.

"Oh, yes they could," replied Greyback. They all laughed. "I just wanted it to be, well, special isn't the right word. It's hard to explain. Lupin would understand."

"There's a couple dozen others who understand," said Harry, "on the other side of that door." He indicated the snake door nearby. "More are on the way, I'm sure."

Greyback looked at the door. "I'll bet they aren't too happy that I'm getting fixed before them." For all he knew, he was the one that had biten several of the others.

"It doesn't matter," replied Harry. He held out his hand to portkey Greyback into the hallway. "It's your turn, now."

With a grin that couldn't be stopped, Fenrir Greyback took the hand of Harry Potter and began his final trip as a werewolf.

* * *

Later that night

"You've met at least once before," began Hermione, "but Vernon and Petunia Dursley, please meet Remus Lupin and ..."

"Tonks," interrupted Tonks. "I haven't killed my mother for my first name, _yet_, but I'm getting closer." She held out her hand and added, "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," said Vernon and Remus, simultaneously extending their hands to their lady's opposite number. They glanced at each other, surprised at the coincidence before they all took their seats.

"What would everyone like to drink?" asked Petunia, rising again. "I also have some pear tarts in the kitchen if anyone's still a bit peckish," she added.

"Fruit juice, for me, please," said Hermione.

"Mead, dear," said Vernon.

"That sounds good," chimed in Remus.

"Me, too," added Tonks, "and I wouldn't mind one of the tarts, please."

"Butterbeer for me," said a strangely familiar voice from the far corner of the room. Unnoticed and unintroduced, Kreacher sat on his haunches, carefully cleaning the dirt and stains from a very nice set of golf clubs. He didn't look up when he spoke but merely continued on with his cleaning.

Petunia walked briskly into the kitchen while the others waited quietly. Vernon suspected that the topic might concern their request to see Dudley but chose to wait until the small talk phase was completed to pursue his guess. The others knew what the conversation would be about and could wait a while longer to begin.

"Here we go," said Petunia, setting down a tray with several tarts, two full and three empty glasses, a pitcher and a bottle of butterbeer. "It's apple juice," she continued, handing one of the full glasses to Hermione. "There was just enough for two so I decided to join you." She picked up the bottle and said, "The rest of you may help yourselves, please." She walked over and handed the bottle of butterbeer to Kreacher who took it without comment. Remus, perhaps anticipating calamity, intercepted Tonks before she could touch the pitcher and poured the mead for everyone.

When they were seated again with the beverage of their choice, Hermione said, "As you know, we've come to discuss Dudley and your request to see him. I'm afraid we have some bad news." At Vernon and Petunia's startled looks she quickly added, "He safe and well."

"Thank goodness," said Vernon, relieved. He didn't stay that way for long. "So why does everyone look so serious? And where's Harry?"

"Harry's resting," said Hermione. "If you'll recall from his memorial service, this gormless berk," at this point, she indicated Remus, who rolled his eyes, "had to go and tell the world that Harry could cure lycanthropy; that's being a werewolf. Naturally..."

"Naturally," finished Remus, "every bloody werewolf in Britain is either here or on the way."

"Harry is curing them at the rate of two per day," added Hermione, "but he has to rest for a couple of hours, at least, afterwards."

"I see," said Petunia. "Perhaps you could let us know what you found out about Dudley. You say he's safe and well. I take it there's more to the story." She sipped her fruit juice.

"I'm afraid he's gotten himself into a little trouble with the law," said Tonks. "Along with a friend of his, he stole an automobile."

"Another one?" asked Vernon before he could put his hand over his mouth. Petunia barely flinched as if she was expecting it.

There was an uncomfortable silence before Hermione could say, "Apparently. He's currently in Coldingley Prison in Bisley. That's only because he couldn't provide bail."

"Couldn't provide bail?" asked Vernon. "That's impossible. We have several thousand pounds in our accounts. Our life insurance policies should have been paid by now, as well. He couldn't have gone through _that_ much money so soon."

"I'm afraid I don't have any answers along those lines," said Tonks. "He's also of age so I wouldn't be able to check on any of his finances without just cause or his consent. I have, however, arranged for a meeting. His real court-assigned solicitor hasn't met with him, yet, and with our contacts in the Old Bailey, that has been postponed until Monday. We've arranged for the Coldingley officials to accept me as his representative and I have an appointment, in private, tomorrow at ten. Our plans are to have you brought into the room after Dudley and I are alone. Before that happens, I'll cast the first half of the Obliviate Tractus spell. If things go sour, we just get the two of you out of there and I'll finish the spell. He won't remember a thing about it."

"Yes," said Petunia, "Hermione mentioned using that spell to us. At the time, I didn't think it'd be necessary, but now..."

"Exactly," confirmed Hermione. "It's just a precaution, but a worthwhile one, I'm afraid."

Vernon sighed. "Stealing cars. What's happened to that boy?" His and Petunia's disappointment was there for anyone to see.

"Perhaps he was distraught at your deaths," suggested Remus. "I've heard that people can make some poor decisions after such a tragedy as losing both of your parents." Tonks nodded in agreement.

"That doesn't explain the one from last year," said Vernon. "Bloody idiot. All he had to do was stay in school and keep his nose relatively clean and the world was his. Now..." He looked down at the floor, despondently.

No one knew what to say. No one, that is, except for Kreacher. He had stood up as straight as he could and made his suggestion. "Vernon should be being asking these muggle-lovers to be bringing Vernon's son here," said the old elf in his gravelly voice. "He'd be being safe, here."

Vernon and Petunia looked first at Kreacher, and then at their guests.

"I'm an auror," said Tonks, surprised at the suggestion. "I can't bloody well go around busting people out of prison."

"It's only being muggle laws you'd be being breaking," continued Kreacher. "They isn't counting."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with the young lady, Karl," said Vernon, after a moment's thought. "He might not even get any jail time, as it is. If he goes bloody missing, he'd be on the run forever."

"A fair point," said Remus. "In any event, we should try to get more information before we do anything."

"That's right," concurred Hermione. "Everything might be this other boy's fault and Dudley was just along for the ride. We don't really know."

"I suppose," agreed Petunia, guardedly. Then, in a more businesslike manner, she asked, "So will you be picking us up here or will we need to meet you in Bisley?"

"We've arranged for some elves to pick you up at nine-thirty and take you to Harry's house in London," said Remus. "That'll put us nearby for when Tonks signals us. We'll need elf protection, in any event. There's still the possibility that your son was framed just to lure you away from the safety of Harry."

"I thought that 'What's-his-face-its' wasn't going to be actively trying to kill us, anymore?" asked Vernon in alarm.

"He probably isn't," reassured Hermione. "There's just no need to take any chances. If Harry were coming, it would be a different matter. He's going to do another werewolf in the morning so that when I return, he'll be rested enough for us to take one of our trips."

"I hope he doesn't overdo it," said Petunia. "It sounds like he's pushing himself too hard."

"He is," said Remus. "He'll have a break next week since the full moon falls on Thursday. We think he can do one early Wednesday morning before they start to change and then one late Friday night. We'll have to see how many more werewolves show up, but he might be able to do the occasional day with only one cure."

"That's something to look forward to, I guess," said Hermione, grumpily. Turning back to the Dursleys, she asked, "Now, do you have any more questions?"

"Lot's of them," replied Vernon, "but it's Dudley that needs to be answering them." He had a grimace on his face usually reserved for Harry.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Ministry

"I'm having a hard time believing this," said Rufus, "and I don't mean it the normal way."

"There are a few, shall we say _questionable_ points that still need some more investigation," agreed Mort Caro. "We're left with the one point we know definitely, however; they all believe it." He glanced at his notepad while sitting with Rufus in the Minister's office. Biff Burdin, the only one with the old style Dark Mark, was fairly easy to get to talk, at least a bit. Once he had told what he knew about their mission, coupled with what the original informant had hinted at, Caro was able to get an emergency permit to use Veritaserum on the rest.

"Oh, they believe it, all right," agreed Rufus. "Those other blighters that we caught trying to kidnap those children believed their mission, too." He paced around his desk.

"You think this is something along those lines?" asked Mort. "You-Know-Who just wants to rattle our cage and shake up the public?" He didn't look convinced.

"Rattle our cage," repeated Rufus, thoughtfully, "or draw away some of our resources. Right now, only Kingsley is on Blair's security detail and then only at Number 10. If we decided that this is a real threat, which it might still be, it'd take a dozen aurors to provide twenty-four hour protection. I can't spare that many men permanently."

"You may have to," argued Mort. "Even if the whole purpose of this exercise was to have you waste the time of some of your aurors, You-Know-Who could have it figured to win either way. If you don't believe him, and something happened to the Prime Minister, you'd have been shown to be criminally negligent in your duty. If you do believe him, you'd waste the time, as you mentioned, of about a dozen badly needed aurors and he could simply strike somewhere else."

Rufus finished his current orbit and sat back into his leather chair. Placing his hands together, he thought for a moment before stating, "I think that we have no choice, at this point, but to take it seriously. We'll just have to pull some aurors off of some less... important..." He stopped and put his chin on his hand. After a moment's thought, he sat back and said, "Harry has some men who might be suitable for something like this. He and Hammer have been training some, well, volunteers for just such an occasion."

"Coldiron?" asked Caro.

"Yes," replied Remus. "They're training some people that are sort of in protective custody. There's about a dozen or so, if memory serves."

Caro considered. "We'd need three squads to do an adequate job of protecting the P.M.," he reasoned. "If we had one auror with four of these volunteers, that should be enough; at least it'd be enough to hold off an attack until help could arrive."

"I'll stop by and talk with Hammer," said Rufus. "Meet me back here tomorrow morning at nine. If Hammer's men are ready, we'll go see them together. If not, we'll work out something else."

Caro rose from his chair. "Right," he said. He was about to leave when another thought crossed his mind. "There's another thing. Around nine, this morning, before we even had the Veritaserum permits, a Prophet reporter was snooping around Headquarters. Seems she heard of the raid and also that a high muggle official was in danger. Jack was able to stall her, for now, but she already seemed to be fairly well informed."

"Great," said Rufus. He sighed. "Don't give her any details, just yet. Try to just regurgitate what she already knows so it sounds new. Maybe play up some other angle. I don't want it getting out who the real target is."

"I'll do my best, Rufus," said Caro. With no further business, he left.

The Minister of Magic was agitated by this new wrinkle. Looking out his false window, he asked, rhetorically, "So, where are you getting your information, Rita?"

* * *

November 8th, 1997

Around Eight A.M.

The two strangers wandered through Woolstaston in a leisurely manner. Stopping first for breakfast at The Rusty Farthing, they then proceeded to browse the available shops. A muffler repair shop provided the first opportunity and, although not usually accustomed to having visitors stopping in to just look around, the owner answered their sometimes odd and always ignorant questions without too much fuss. When he asked the make and model of their automobile, the male member of the couple laughed and said that he'd never owned one. Hearing that, the shop keeper found he had other customers that needed his attention and wandered off.

After that, the couple went on their way, always looking around, eager to find new and exciting stores to shop. One in particular soon had the woman pulling the man along by the hand.

"There's a candy shop," exclaimed Kamalia, smiling brightly. She tugged harder until Savan was obliged to pick up his pace to that of a trot.

"Hold on, Mum," said Savan, laughing. "We've just eaten, if you'll remember."

"And this is dessert," countered Kamalia, ignoring the 'Mum' reference. The door jingled a cascade of bells as they opened it.

Kamalia hurried among the display racks, sometimes jostling small children in her hurry. As she was just slightly larger than most of them, they weren't in too much danger of being trampled.

"Oh, my," said Kamalia, ecstatically. "I don't know what any of them are but I want them." She managed to find her way out of the pre-packaged candies and next to the clear glass bins. "Malted milk balls," she said, unsure of what that might be.

Her expression must have been noticeable because the elderly proprietor asked, "Would you like to try one, miss?" He reached in the bin and brought one of the nearly one inch diameter spheres out and offered it to her.

Kamalia took the candy and bit into it; first gently to discern the taste and then with much more gusto. "Oh, these are excellent. Let's see... A half pound, no; make that one pound, please."

"Of course, miss," said the gentleman and pulled a small bag from the shelf.

"That bag isn't big enough," declared Kamalia.

"I assure you that it will hold your order quite well," argued the experienced shop owner.

"You don't know what I want, yet," said Kamalia. "Just the first bit."

Getting the drift, the man put back the bag and smiled.

"Turtles?" asked Kamalia, confused. "I'm sure I don't want to be snacking on any turtles; chocolate covered or not."

The candy man, knowing a sucker when he saw one, gave Kamalia a closer look. Yes, indeed; he saw one.

Forty five minutes later

"Pay the man." Savan woke with a start as Kamalia slapped his shoulder.

Looking outside, he asked, "Is it still daylight?" Standing up from his chair, he walked behind Kamalia as she returned to the counter. There, sitting inside a brand new, and complimentary to exceptional customers, cloth bag with the store's logo emblazoned on the side, were at least a dozen smaller bags.

"You've got to be bloody kidding," said Savan, ignorantly.

"Don't speak to your mum like that," said Kamalia, sharply. "I've just made sure that there's enough to share."

"I guess you have," agreed Savan. "How much is it?"

"Seventy-five pounds, sixteen," replied the owner. "I've thrown the bag in."

"I should throw in the bag," said Savan. "Into the nut house." He received a shot to his shoulder, again.

"Now, now," said the aged gentleman, "don't be cheeky with your mum."

"Kids, today," said Kamalia, enjoying the moment. "It's like they were raised by wolves."

Savan spit out a laugh, caught by surprise at Kamalia's pun. Smiling, he said, "Sorry, Mum." He reached into his jacket pocket. Actually, it was Harry's pocket as Hermione had provided them both with some muggle clothes from their own closet; modified for size, of course. Savan pulled out a roll of twenty pound notes; also provided by the Potters.

"Twenty, forty, sixty and eighty," said Savan, laying down the notes. "Keep the change. I'm sure you've earned it." His shoulder was starting to feel a bit sore.

"Thanks, Gene," said Kamalia to her new favorite shopkeeper as she tried to pick up the bag. Failing, she looked at Savan and pointed at the bag before heading out the door. Savan threw the bag over his shoulder, not without difficulty, and followed.

* * *

At nine o'clock, in the formerly unused astrology room

"Good morning," said Rufus to the group of volunteers seated before him. There were only seven, not the twelve he had desired, but beggars can't be choosers. "Hammer has told me that you lot are the best he's got." Two of the seven smiled at the perceived compliment but Rufus cut them off. "He wasn't implying that you were any good. Just that you stand a good chance of not being killed straight off." The grins vanished.

"They'll do their best," said Hammer, not wanting to concede the point too far. Turning to his men, he added, "I think the Minister is trying to say that from this point, there won't be any do-overs. If you go down in the field, you'll stay down."

"We're aware of the risks, Minister," said Oliver. "We just want to be of some use. The fact that you're here at all proves that you need us."

"For your sakes, as well as the person you'll be protecting, I hope that you'll find the detail extremely boring," said Rufus. "The person that you'll be guarding is Tony Blair. He's the Prime Minister, if your not up on your news." There was a spattering of shocked exclamations from the group but the Minister wasn't quite finished. "We've captured a group of Death Eaters who were given the task of capturing or killing him. That information is currently a secret, but I have reason to believe that it won't stay that way for long. We also suspect that the real motive was to have us guard him."

"All right," said Kevin Longshadow, "I was up to speed until just then." The others murmured their agreement.

"It would take four aurors per shift to adequately guard the PM," said Rufus. "That's twelve men, plus alternates to fill in as needed. It would be hard to kill or maim so many aurors, but by convincing us that Blair's a target, he'd remove them from our available forces just as effectively. You'll be divided into pairs with one man off for a day and a third. You'll cycle through so everyone will be familiar with all shifts as well as have the occasional day off. Two aurors will be with each group with similar arrangements. We're still down seven aurors but that's better than fourteen. Their complete training and experience should make it possible to remove the PM from any dangerous situations or, at the least, protect him until help arrives."

The mood in the room was quite serious. Although trained for battle, they had mostly suspected they'd be guarding a floo portal or maybe prisoners. Even though he was a muggle, the Prime Minister was quite important. It wouldn't be unreasonable to expect some very top shelf Death Eaters if an attack actually materialized.

After several seconds with no comments, Wood stood up. He was the de facto leader of the group, and knew their moods and thoughts. "Minister," he said, gravely, "we said we'd do what we could and we meant it. We might not be as fully trained or experienced as your aurors, but rest assured that if anyone gets to the PM, it'll be over our dead bodies."

* * *

Ten o'clock in Coldingley Prison.

Solicitor Room C

"Here he is, ma'am." The guard took a step back to allow the prisoner to enter but had to take a second step back before that would be possible. "Rap on the glass when you're finished." With that, he closed the door behind him.

Tonks surveyed the prisoner. It was an appropriate word, all things being equal. Dudley was easily four hundred pounds. "Have a seat, Dudley," she said, discretely pulling her wand. As Dudley turned to find the indicated seat, Tonks cast the Obliviate Tractus spell. She then cast a silencing spell on the room in general.

Taking the seat opposite him, Tonks said, "My name is Tonks. I'm not your solicitor. I'm a witch."

Dudley sprang to his feet. Well, perhaps 'sprang' isn't the right word. Let's just say that he managed to eventually stand up. Backing away from her, he asked, "A... a witch? What do you want with me?" He stopped backing when he found the corner of the room.

"I want you to bloody calm down," said Tonks. "I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, I have some good news."

"Did Harry send you to kill me?" asked Dudley, covering his face with his huge hands.

"No," said Tonks, smiling. "That's _more_ good news. See? The day is full of it."

"Then why're you here?" asked Dudley.

"I'm going to have some people brought who are going to ask you the same question," said Tonks. "Dudley. Listen to me." She waited for him to calm down enough to be sure he heard her properly. "Your parents weren't killed in that auto accident. They're alive and will be here in just a minute."

The gerbils in Dudley's brain momentarily fell off their wheels. When they had recovered, they started running in a completely different direction. "Mum and Dad are coming here?" he asked. He wasn't as focused on the fact that they were coming at all as to the final destination; prison.

"Right now," said Tonks. She pulled out a coin. "All I have to do is touch this with my wand." She prepared to put the tip on the sickle.

"Just a moment," said Dudley, almost pushing the wand away until he realized he almost touched a wand. "I'm not sure if... What I mean is...well..." He wasn't coming up with the way to say it but Tonks got the general idea.

"They know where you are and why," she said. "It seems that they've visited you someplace similar in the past, as well." She reached out and patted his hand, reassuringly. "It's best to just get it over with."

Dudley had turned pale. "How are they alive?" he asked, getting back to what should have been his first thought. Even then, he didn't appear to be pleased.

"Harry saved them," said Tonks. "Look; I'm sure this can all be covered after they get here. I've only booked this room for an hour and they're waiting; so we'd better get cracking."

Dudley nodded, resignedly and watched as Tonks touched the sickle with her wand. A moment later and a series of pops filled the room but no one seemed to have arrived. After just enough time for Dudley to prepare to ask where his parents were, they were in the room with him.

"Dudley!" exclaimed Petunia, rushing from under the invisibility cloak she had shared with Hermione to give him a hug.

"Mum," said Dudley, dazed and confused. He did manage to return the hug.

"Dudley," said Vernon, somewhat less exuberantly than his wife. He had also been under a cloak to hide him until they were sure they weren't being observed.

"Dad," said Dudley, still dazed and confused. He wasn't offered, and didn't suggest a hug, this time.

"Surprised to see us?" asked Vernon. He, unlike his son, had always known he was alive and didn't have to deal with the shock.

"Yes," answered Dudley, dumbfounded, still. "This... this... woman just told me but..." He trailed off, again.

"Her name is Tonks," said Hermione, stepping forward.

"I already told him that," said Tonks, "but I think he forgot in the excitement."

"I'm Hermione Potter," said Hermione. "I'm Harry's wife."

"Harry's wife?" asked Dudley. He was surprised that a girl would admit to knowing Harry; much less marry him.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Look. We don't have much time. If you'll sit down, we'll explain why your parents' deaths were faked."

Dudley, having already surpassed his limits for new information, had to think about the request before remembering how to sit down.

"Now," said Hermione, "it all started..."

"If you don't mind," interrupted Vernon, "I'd like to do the summary."

"Well," said Hermione, surprised, "I suppose..."

"Thank you," said Vernon. "Dudley. Your mother and I are alive. End of summary. Now, if you'd just be so kind as to explain how you ended up here."

"It's all a misunderstanding," began Dudley. "Piers and I were just walking down the street; you know, minding our own business, when a man pulls up next to us and asks us to watch his car for a minute. No, wait. He asked us to take it home for him. I remember, now." Dudley, not thinking that he'd have to explain any of this to his parents, hadn't bothered to think up a convincing lie. "Anyway, Piers and I hadn't anything else planned for the afternoon so we agreed."

"I see," said Vernon. "So he handed you his keys and off you went."

"Yes," said Dudley, not believing his luck. He then realized he had a continuity error and decided to head it off. "Well, no. You see, this bloke forgot to give us his keys. He must have been in a hurry and ran off without them."

"How'd you plan to steal, I mean deliver his car without the keys?" asked Tonks. She'd run into some unconvincing thieves before but this blob wouldn't convince a starving man to eat.

"I had no idea," said Dudley. "I was about to leave when Piers thought of a show on the telly he'd seen on how to start cars without their keys."

"Did he see that tip on Miss Marple?" asked Hermione. Vernon looked back in mild irritation but Petunia had to conceal her initial laugh as a cough.

"I'm not sure," said Dudley. "It might have been."

"Don't strain yourself, Dudley," said Vernon. "Let's jump ahead a bit. You were caught and taken to a police station."

"Unbelievable, wasn't it?" asked Dudley. He hadn't moved ahead as far as Vernon. "They thought we stole the car." He sat back to allow the others to express their outrage at the miscarriage of justice. He needn't have bothered.

"I'm sure that'll all be cleared up at your trial," said Vernon. "This leaves the main question of why are you here, instead of school, or at the least, home?"

"They wanted me to post five hundred quid," said Dudley as if they might as well have asked him to hand over the keys to London.

"So why didn't you do it?" asked Vernon.

"I don't have that kind of money," replied Dudley, incredulously.

"Yes, you do," countered Vernon. "You mother and I've been declared dead. There's several thousand pounds in our bank. Not all is in cash but the certificates and bonds would have been sufficient collateral, if necessary."

"I can't touch any of that," said Dudley. "Aunt Marge came in and said I could have what was left when I turned twenty-one."

"What?" asked Vernon and Petunia, simultaneously.

"Aunt Marge said she's my guardian until I'm twenty-one," expanded Dudley. "She said you set that up when I was born."

"Bloody hell," said Vernon. He sat back, thinking.

"Why twenty-one?" asked Tonks. "He's of age as of seventeen."

"Eighteen," said Petunia and Hermione, together. "Muggles aren't of age until they turn eighteen." finished Hermione.

"We set that up when he was born," explained Vernon. "You never know at that age if, well, the unthinkable happens, if they'd be ready to take care of their finances. You aren't fully mature, in general. We thought it best if he were given a few more years to grow up with someone watching over him. Naturally, since Petunia didn't have any living relatives, we decided on my sister."

"And she wouldn't use some of your own money to bail you out of jail?" asked Remus.

"No," said Dudley. "In fact..." He looked at his mother and dummied up.

"What is it?" asked Petunia.

"I'd rather not say, Mum," said Dudley, looking at the floor. "She said some things that were pretty awful about..." He stopped again.

"About whom?" asked Petunia, harsher than normal when addressing her son.

"About... about you and..." said Dudley

"About me?" asked Petunia, rising from her chair. "Why, we always got along. What could she have said that was so terrible."

"It was mostly about Harry and his mum," said Dudley, quickly. "She said a lot of things about blood and breeding and that I must've ended up in jail because of the blood on your side of the family being bad."

Petunia gave Vernon a very scathing look. "Vernon!" she said, not so much loudly as emphatically, "what are you going to do about your sister; and our son?"

Vernon shrunk back even further but Hermione had at least a partial solution. "Let's solve what we can. Dudley needs to get back to his school so he can be prepared to sit his exams. I'll post his bail." She thought a moment and ammended, " Actually, could you do that, Tonks? I have no idea how to go about that sort of thing."

"Sure," said Tonks. "I know a few muggles in low places at the Old Bailey."

"Fine," said Hermione, reaching into her robes, pulling out her clasp purse. Flipping through the contents, she handed Tonks her roll of fifties.

"Thank you," said Petunia. "We'll get that back to you after we've spoken to Marge."

"I'm not sure if that'll be possible," said Remus. "If she isn't aware of our world, it might not be legal to confront her."

"But we'll need her to arrange Dudley's solicitor and pay whatever fines come along," argued Petunia. "It doesn't sound like she'd do any of that unless she knew we were alive."

Vernon didn't say anything. He was thinking. Staring into the corner before him, he analyzed his options. As nothing came into focus inside his mind, something did so inside his eyeballs. Jumper, accompanying the group mainly due to the presence of Hermione, held onto one of the invisibility cloaks. A thought came into his mind that caused him to smile. If Harry had been there and known what he was considering, he would have smiled, too.

* * *

Author's note: The Fourth of July is coming up so I'll have a three day weekend. I hope to get a good start on the next chapter. I might even be able to explain what Savan and Kamalia are up to. See you then.

Also, the rash of good luck is an old joke, but a good one. I don't know where it originated or I'd credit it.

Dad


	90. Chapter 90

Chapter 90 - Surprise Visits

November 8th, 1997

One O'Clock in the Malfoy Family Cemetery

Luna Lovegood sat next to the mother of the one she had considered most likely to be her future husband and the father of her children. She had not sought out this seat, but upon seeing her arrival, was offered it by Narcissa, herself. She, too, knew the closeness of the two and also that Luna was among those with whom she could relate. Misery loves company, as the saying goes, but only in the sense that fires can, if given the chance and proper circumstances, sometimes burn each other out. Narcissa was immersed in that kind of misery, but to know that someone who understood was near, she was comforted.

To the left of Narcissa sat her remaining sister, Andromeda, along with her sister's muggle-born husband, Ted. His marginal status in the magical world had worked to divide the sisters over the years but, for today, at least, he was allowed to exist without complaint. On his left sat his daughter, Nymphadora. She wore her hair black, today, out of respect for the dead. Remus, until recently even more of an outcast and social misfit than Ted, removed himself to stand back among a small grove of elm trees, just to prevent any outbursts.

Just behind Luna sat the wife of one of her dearest friends. Hermione would represent the Potters for this ceremony. It was a compromise decided in a manner similar to that of Remus, by one side of the issue without the input of the other. On Hermione's left was Luna's father, Linus. He was there as Luna's father; not as a newsman and he remained an unknown to Narcissa. To the right of Hermione sat Ron, his special stool brought along. Honey was by his side, of course, with Neville and Ginny, as well. Martha sat alongside Oliver. Harry, although nearby, remained hidden from view; especially Narcissa's, in a manner similar to that of Remus except his chosen species was oak. There was no need to pour salt on her wounds during the funeral of her son so he participated by performing the dual roles of additional mourner and backup security. Besides Tonks, the only official auror present, they also had Jumper with nine members of his now replenished ranks of Free Elves. They took up discrete positions on the periphery of the Malfoy cemetery. Other mourners had filled a few of the seats, but it was a sparse turnout by anyone's standards. They had made no announcement in the paper of the time and place, reasoning that no good could come of public notice. All in all, though, it was more than would have been expected just a few months earlier when Draco had deserted the Dark Lord.

As the eulogist rose to give her speech, Remus walked over to the tree by which Harry was standing, some distance away from his original spot. "It's warm for this time of year," he said. He loosened his robes a bit as if to emphasize his pronouncement. A few words from the woman next to Draco's coffin drifted over, but a sudden, stiff breeze quickly carried them away, along with about half of the warmth.

"You had to break the spell, didn't you?" asked Harry, pulling his cloak tighter around himself.

"Sorry," said Remus. "Will you be inside or outside during your trip?"

"Both," said Harry. "We're going to Prudhoe Castle in Northumberland. It should take most of the afternoon since it was big enough to need four detectors when it was first put on the maps."

"It's bloody huge," agreed Remus. "I spent some time there a few years back. The forest surrounding it offered a lot of places to hole up, and the castle, itself, was right there if you needed it. Using it was a bit more dicey, though, since it has regular tours."

"We're taking one," said Harry. "That should allow me to do the entire castle. The grounds will have to wait for later." He then decided to change the subject. "What do you think of my uncle's idea?" Hermione had filled him in on the plot hatched by Vernon.

"It's no more than his sister deserves," said Remus. "I'm not sure it it'll work, but, if done properly..." He smiled.

"I agree," said Harry. "I'd do it for the comic relief alone, to tell you the truth. Now, Tonks said that Dudley should be released late this afternoon?"

"That's right," agreed Remus. "The paperwork has to go through the proper channels but he should be home; or at school, I suppose, in time for supper."

"That's good," said Harry. "I wonder how he's managed to survive with only the three meals a day."

"From the looks of him," said Remus, "he's been eating the other prisoners."

Harry laughed. He instantly regretted it as a few of the mourners, including his wife, cast disapproving glances in his direction. With a nod to Remus, they both remained quiet for the rest of the eulogy.

When Minerva, who was thrust into the position of eulogist for lack of anyone else that was more acquainted with the new Draco and also acceptable to Narcissa, stepped down from the podium, there was nothing left to do but the burial. Harry and Remus could join this part of the ceremony since it was more of a crowd than a line that gathered near the grave. Luna and Narcissa each placed a white rose on the casket before Minerva levitated it over the hole and lowered it in. Narcissa now had one final role to play. Bending down, she picked up a handful of dirt. You would have thought it was made of lead. Her hand trembled, first slowly, then with great agitation as her knees buckled as quickly as her spirit and she lay moaning on the ground, weeping pitifully.

Luna, of course, knelt by her side and tried her best to comfort her. Luna was only slightly more controlled, but it was enough for Narcissa to calm enough to get to her knees. When she could physically do so, Luna put her arms around Narcissa and gave her a most sincere hug. There was a moment when Narcissa seemed to resist but it passed so quickly that it was easy to miss. Both women held onto each other; each knowing the other understood. Within only a few moments, however, the anguish had passed. This sort of an attack was becoming less common as the days had passed and, with luck, the passing of the major milestone of Draco's funeral might bring them to an end. Luna helped Narcissa to her feet when she felt she was able to stand. Letting the moist, cold earth that was still clenched in her fist drop on her son's coffin, Narcissa walked on; choosing not to look back.

After the other attendees had paid their respects, the grave had been filled, and the final words of comfort given and received, Narcissa joined her sister and brother-in-law in Ted's car for the sixty mile journey to their home. Ted, although a wizard, was muggle-born and felt that only an idiot would choose to ride on a stick of wood in goodness knows what kind of weather when you could be sitting in climate controlled comfort on rich, Corinthian leather.

As they pulled away, Harry said, "I know she doesn't deserve it, but she's lost as much as anyone. I hope she can sit out the rest of this war." He looked at Hermione who nodded her head but remained silent. With a general round of nonverbal gestures of departure, they all left for their prearranged destinations.

* * *

Around the same time near Cleobury North.

"Look; a flat rock," exclaimed Kamalia. Without further comment, she walked over and plopped her butt down. She discovered that, although it was flat enough to sit on, it was still a rock.

"Ouch," she continued, rubbing her bum. Quickly turning her frown into a smile, she patted the stone, gesturing for Savan to join her.

"We still have the entire north side to do," said Savan, his frustration showing. "We need to do Seaton Ross and Penjerrick before nightfall if we want to stay on schedule."

"My feet hurt," whined Kamalia. "I need to take the weight off of them, just for a moment." She began to rub the aforementioned feet.

"You knew we'd be doing a lot of walking," said Savan. "Why'd you even volunteer for this?" In the back of his mind, he knew quite well.

"Well," stalled Kamalia while she tried to come up with something other than the real reason, "It was Hermione who suggested it. She thought that we could pretend to be a mother and her son."

"She only made that suggestion," replied Savan, "after you said you wanted us to pretend to be a married couple. She didn't think that would be believable."

"Just to strangers," amended Kamalia. "She said once people got to know us, it seemed more reasonable." She had a look on her face that was pretty unmistakable to Savan.

"Kamalia," he said, taking a seat next to her, "realistically, it's unlikely..."

"Oh," interrupted Kamalia, "this isn't the time to be realistic. Today, we're pretending that I'm your mother. I've never been someone's mother, before, and it's lot of fun. It's all make believe, I know, but we fooled that waitress and that nice man in the treat shop and most everyone we've talked to. I imagine that our heights help out with the illusion. If you were six feet tall, nobody'd think you could be my son. As it is, you're just tall enough for me to look up into your eyes." As she said this, she did look up into his sweet, soft eyes. He was looking back down at her, smiling at her excited yammering. Kamalia, though, found her inhibition fall completely away for a full second. It wasn't much of a window of opportunity but she reached up and gave him a quick kiss, full on the lips. Savan didn't pull away, but neither did he return the gift.

"Mum," said Savan, trying to divert attention away from the emotion Kamalia was showing and the contradictory feelings that he was having, himself, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'm a big boy, now, and you shouldn't kiss me like that, anymore?"

Kamalia, who was embarrassed by her impetuosity, laughed to relieve her own tension. "I'll try to remember that." She then decided to seize the moment and asked, "Just for my own curiosity, could we try an experiment tomorrow?"

"What sort of an experiment?" asked Savan, leaning back and looking down on her, suspiciously.

"Well," explained Kamalia, furtively putting her arm around his waist as she talked, "I think that I look young enough to pass as your wife. Let's try using that story, tomorrow, and I promise to go back to being your mum the first time anyone doesn't believe us."

"Kamalia," began Savan, "I want you to understand..."

"It's just pretend," interrupted Kamalia, again. "You don't have to kiss me... back." She smiled, hopefully, with just a bit of pleading in her eyes.

Savan looked at her more closely. He had to admit, she didn't look fifty-eight. Then again she didn't look like she was in her twenties, either. He did like her company and they had fun together, but now that he had hopes for a normal future, he knew that it couldn't be with her. Still, she seemed to understand all of that. With a sigh, Savan decided that he could 'pretend' for a day.

* * *

Five o'clock that afternoon on a very similar rock.

"I'm not sure I understand the logic behind keeping something in ruins when you could easily restore it back to new condition." Harry had enjoyed the tour of Prudhoe Castle but was having difficulty with the concept of historic preservation.

"It wouldn't be all that easy," countered Hermione, "at least not for muggles. The new stones that would have to be used, for example, wouldn't match what had been left out to weather for a millennia. Some of those cracks in the main bulwarks would also be a problem."

"There are only a million rocks laying about that are just as old as the castle," retorted Harry. He indicated the enormous walled in 'front yard' of the castle. "I think this place is ninety percent good to go. It'd be a great castle with just a little work."

"We're _not_ buying it," said Hermione, with finality. "So; are you rested up?" Hermione, like Savan, wasn't sympathetic to her walking partner's problems. With so much area to cover at this particular site and with so many other places they should be visiting, her attitude was more along the lines of 'March or Die'.

"I suppose," said Harry, rubbing his feet one last time. He had just been stalling by talking about the state of the castle, but after Hermione had informed him that they weren't buying it, he found himself wondering just how much it would cost. He might have to check into that. After all, Christmas was coming up.

* * *

Coincidentally, at Riddle Manor at the same time, although no flat rocks were in sight.

"No, this won't do," said the Dark Lord. "This won't do at all." He was having a 'chat' with Rita Skeeter and Barnabas Cuffe about the upcoming general interest story about the thwarted plot against the life of the Prime Minister. As could already be determined, he wasn't pleased.

"Did you manage to take a photograph of the heroic leader of the auror team?" asked Snape? He was also perusing an advance copy of the story. Rita nodded her head, frantically.

"I'll expect to see it on the front page. Artemis Derrick was also more important than you've let on," continued Voldemort. "Severus will give you some background material on his lesser known work." He gestured at Snape, who nodded his understanding.

"The attack on Mr. Blair was imminent," said Voldemort, setting down the outdated manuscript. "Auror Caro must be given the lion's share of the credit for his continued safety. As you have already mentioned, his son, ah..." He looked to Snape.

"Lamont," said Snape.

"Ah, yes," said Voldemort, picking up the thread of his tale, "Lamont. He was one of my most loyal Death Eaters. His tragic death was felt by us all. I'd be very upset with the two of you if his father weren't properly honored in tomorrow's paper. 'The dual tragedies of his son's career choices and subsequent death has not slowed his skills as an auror to fight the forces of evil. Blah, blah, blah.' That sort of thing. I want people ready to build monuments to his courage. Do you understand?"

Rita and Barnabas both nodded, enthusiastically. That was about all they could do, being bound and gagged.

"Very good," said Voldemort. "I've provided parchment and quills." He gestured at a nearby desk. "You have one hour to write the story. Don't disappoint me." He severed their bonds with a wave of his wand.

The terrified newspaper people rushed to the desk. As Voldemort left to leave, he turned back and added, "If one word of this visit is ever revealed by either of you, you'll both live on for one thousand days. Every one of those thousand days, you'll beg me for the mercy of death." With both Skeeter and Cuffe fully informed on their duties, the Dark Lord left them in abject terror.

* * *

Nine o'clock at the Lovelady Shield Country House Hotel about two and a half miles outside of Alston, Cumbria.

"You've just made it in time," said the warm and friendly woman behind the check-in counter. "We normally close at nine."

"I'm glad we were able to catch you, then," said Savan, smiling. "We'd like two rooms, please." Both Kamalia and Mrs. Marie Haynes, the owner, looked at him with a frown, although for different reasons.

"I'm afraid I only have the one room left," explained Mrs. Haynes. "It's quite large. I'm sure that both you and your..."

"Mother," said Savan, before Kamalia could interrupt. "I'm sure we'll survive." He and Kamalia exchanged their previous facial expressions. "How much is it, please?"

"Two hundred pounds," said Marie, smiling.

Cough. Cough. "Two hundred pounds?" exclaimed Savan in shock. He could feel his Scottish blood congealing at the very thought.

"Are you alright, son?" asked Kamalia. "We normally don't stay at such nice establishments as this," she explained to the shocked, and slightly affronted Mrs. Haynes.

"I'm sure you'll be very satisfied," said Marie. "Breakfast is included, if that helps. Also, each room has it's own fireplace with a supply of firewood to make it extra cosy. I can send Peter up to light it for you, if you'd like."

"We know how to light a fire," said Kamalia, "don't we, dear."

"That's not the point," said Savan, regaining control. "I'm sure Harry..."

"Uncle Harry will understand," broke in Kamalia. "Aunt Hermione will explain it to him, if necessary." Her smile was becoming contagious.

Savan broke into a broad grin and said, "Alright. We'll take it." He pulled out what was left of his roll of twenties.

"Sam!" shouted Marie, as she pulled the register around for Savan to sign. "Now if you'll just fill in your names and home town, we'll be all set." She looked around for Sam before realizing that he wasn't coming. "I'm so sorry. I'm afraid our bell boy has left for the night. Would you like for me to get Peter to carry your luggage for you or can you manage it yourself?" She looked over the counter for the nonexistent luggage.

"Our luggage," said Kamalia. "Oh, our luggage." They had their luggage in their pockets. A nightie for Kamalia, pajamas for Savan and a change of underwear for each was all that they thought to bring; it being such a short trip. It was doubtful that that information would be acceptable to the muggle, though. She couldn't think of anything and turned to Savan.

"We're traveling light," said Savan. He saw the arched eyebrow in time to add, "I'll just go get our bag. It's in the auto." He lay down the ten notes before heading out the door. Kamalia smiled at Marie and took a seat in the common area of the inn.

Within five minutes, Savan returned with what could, with some imagination, be called a suitcase. It might have been woven straw or maybe bamboo. It wouldn't survive close scrutiny, though and Savan set it down directly in front of the desk, out of sight. A few stalks of hay fell off but no one would see them until the maid cleaned in the morning.

"Follow me, please," said Marie as she grabbed a key and led them down the hallway to the south. Four doors down, she stopped and inserted the key. Turning it, she opened the door into a magnificent room furnished and decorated in the Georgian style. There were two large overstuffed chairs in front of a wide, inviting fireplace. A bookshelf with perhaps two hundred assorted volumes stood against the far wall. Through a side door, it was revealed that this room had a private bath. All in all, it had everything you could wish for. Everything except...

"Where's the other bed?" asked Savan. Dominating the room was an overly wide four poster with what would be discovered to be an original feather mattress with eider down stuffing. It was quite large enough for three, in an emergency, but it's physical dimensions weren't of concern to Savan, right now.

"This is it," said Marie, brightly. "I wouldn't worry about it. Our featherbeds are so large and comfortable that I doubt you'll notice each other. Unlike spring mattresses, you won't feel the other person moving around."

"We'll be fine," said Kamalia. "Thank you very much." She led the other women to the door and quickly showed her out.

"I've got the portkey," said Savan. "I could pop back to Hogwarts for the night."

"We're only supposed to use that in an emergency," said Kamalia.

"This is," said Savan, "I mean, I know."

"No one will know," said Kamalia, walking over and looking into the bathroom. "I'll take my bath first while you start the fire." She pulled out the nightie she had borrowed from Hermione and then took off her outer cloak, laying it on a convenient side chair. With a smile, she went into the bathroom and closed the door.

* * *

At eleven o'clock that night in a sturdy house in the country.

Pop! A distinct pop came from the back room of Marge Dursley's house. She didn't hear the pop, of course, due to the nearly instantaneous yapping of her house dog, Ripper. Ripper ran off to investigate, barking at a rate of nearly three hertz. Since Ripper was wont to do this ten or so times per hour, Marge ignored him. Approximately seven seconds later, though, her attention was grabbed by the unexpected cessation of canine dissonance.

"Ripper?" she called. No response. "Ripper?" she called again. Again, there was no response. "Ripper?" she called for a third time. She might have heard a sigh but wasn't sure. "Ripper?" she called for a fourth time. This time she got a response.

"Just drag your butt out of the chair and take a bloody look!" called a voice from the back room.

Marge rolled forward in her chair, slowly pulling her stubby tree trunks of legs under her until her center of gravity changed enough for her to stand. Staggering through her custom made, four feet wide door openings, she made her way to the rear of the house. As she approached the final door, she was startled to see Ripper, standing with his mouth in mid-bark but making no sound nor movement. "Ripper?" she asked. The dog didn't move. Marge bent down to touch the dog but, without the assistance of having Ripper jump to meet her, the ten inch high dog was a good four inches beyond her range.

Startled, she straightened up and asked of the air, "Who's there?"

"It's me," said Vernon, doing his best impersonation of what he though a ghost should sound like.

"Who are you?" asked Marge. She reached over and flipped the light switch. The room remained empty but the voice was still present.

"Vernon," said Vernon, "your brother."

"I know you're my brother," said Marge, irritably. "You don't need to tell me that." She looked curiously about the room for someone tangible to talk with. "What's happened to Ripper?" She pointed at her dog.

"He's frozen," said Vernon, guessing. "I've come to talk to you about..."

"Well, unfreeze him," demanded Madge. She put her hands on her hips as she faced the approximate position of Vernon's voice.

"After we're done talking," said Vernon. He was becoming a bit exasperated at his lack of success in scaring his sister into submission.

"Now," demanded Marge, pointing again at the brainless mop head.

"We won't be a moment if you'd just listen," broke in Petunia. She was sensing the pressure building up inside her husband and didn't want him to blow his top.

"Petunia?" asked Marge. "Are you here, too?" After a pause, she added, "Figures." She turned and walked back towards her parlor. In confusion, Vernon, Petunia and Harry followed, all under their own invisibility cloaks.

When Marge reached her chair, she immediately sat back down. Facing the doorway, she said, "If we're going to be chatting, we might as well be comfortable." She was a few seconds early, the doorway being clear of anyone, visible or otherwise, but they were able to hear her from down the hallway.

Harry, having enough experience to tell when things were going south in a hurry, slipped past his relatives and immediately cast the Obliviate Tractus spell. This would give them a convenient do-over point.

"Marge," said Vernon, coming into the room. He stopped speaking when he saw the expression on her face. She was his older sister and had always had size on her side; or at least weight. When she crossed her arms and squinted her eyes like that, no good would follow.

"It seems that you refuse to rest in peace," said Marge, harshly. "Very well. What has compelled you to ruin my evening?" She picked up the magazine she had been reading and began to browse through it.

"Well," began Vernon, a little cowed, "We came to talk to you about, ah, well, about..." He had obviously been rattled enough to forget the purpose of the visit.

"Petrificus Totalus," said Harry as a beam hit his Aunt Marge. Whipping the cloak off his head, he turned to Vernon and said, "Dudley. We're here to make her take care of Dudley."

"Oh, right," said Vernon. "What have you done to her?" He might have been pointing to his sister but Harry couldn't tell.

"I've petrified her," answered Harry. "Now, let's go back in the hall. I've taken care of her memory and she'll think she just sat down."

"Try to remember your son, this time," said Petunia, irritably.

"Maybe if you came in with your heads exposed," suggested Harry. "That ought to shake her up." He watched as first Petunia's, and then Vernon's heads came into view. "Oh, yes," he added. "Very scary. All right. Back in the hallway." Vernon and Petunia made their way back down the hall. When they were ready, Harry recovered his head before ending and then quickly recasting the memory charm.

"If we're going to be chatting, we might as well be comfortable," repeated Marge, unknowingly.

"Marge," said Vernon, ominously, "we've come to discuss Dudley."

"Oh, him," said Marge, glancing at the floating heads before picking up the aforementioned magazine. "No need to worry. He's safe in prison." She opened the magazine and began to browse the ads.

"That's why we're here," said Vernon. "We want to know why you didn't bail him out until his trial."

"They wanted five hundred quid," said Marge. "After stealing an automobile and all, I didn't think it a good idea to let him out to get into even more trouble. The jail seemed to be quite nice enough so I decided to let them beat some sense into him."

"But he's much too sensitive to be in a place like that," said Petunia. "Surely..."

"It's your side of the family that's corrupted him," said Marge, "not mine. Too much bad blood. At least he's not a bad as your freak of a nephew. I wouldn't be surprised if they were cellmates, before long."

"Now, Marge," said Vernon, "he's just lost his parents. I think you..."

"You think?" asked Marge. "I'm afraid that it's what _I_ think that matters." She rose to her feet and waddled over to her secretary. Opening an upper drawer, she pulled out a document. Checking to make sure it was the one she was looking for, she made her way over to the head of her dead brother.

"Right there," she said, pointing, "right there near the start of the second paragraph. 'In the event that both of us should die, all of our son's financial decisions shall be made by Marge Dursley until Dudley has reached his twenty-first birthday.' That means that it is entirely up to me since you've both snuffed it." She put the document back and slammed the door with a harumph.

"Now see here, Marge," said Vernon, getting his hackles up, "I demand..."

"Nothing," said Marge. "I have the law on my side. Now, you can make whatever requests you wish, but when it comes down to it, he's already received better than he deserves."

"If you don't start to obey our wishes, I'll..." Vernon wasn't sure of his options. This wasn't lost on Marge.

"You'll what?" she asked, sarcastically. At Vernon's continued silence, she laughed. "I thought so." She returned to her chair, exactly the place Harry had wanted her.

"Petrificus Totalus," he incanted, again.

Petunia said, "You can't let her get the upper hand, Vernon. Lay it on the line right away."

"Right," said Vernon, making his way down the hallway, again, with Petunia following.

Five minutes later.

Whap! "Ow!" shouted Vernon, holding his bloody nose. "Don't do that!"

"Petrificus Totalus," sighed Harry. Looking at Aunt Petunia, he asked, "Any other bright ideas?"

* * *

Eleven o'clock in the Lovelady Shield Country House Hotel, Room C

"Seaton Ross; North Road; Savan," said Savan as he wrote on his bottle. He set it down next to the rest of them. Between the two of them, they had over forty bottled memories. "Done." He and Kamalia had been working for over an hour on performing the favor that Harry had asked of them. In fifteen minute increments, they had prepared detailed memories of the areas surrounding Voldemort's known headquarters' and the nearest towns. Harry had explained that with werewolf memories, they could familiarize themselves in detail with the area before any raid or reconnaissance need be done in person.

"Very good," said Kamalia. She cast a blanket unbreakable charm over the lot of them and then put the bottles in a cloth bag. "We're ready, Millie," she said to the air. In a matter of seconds, Millie appeared before them.

"What can Millie be doing for Miss Kamalia," she asked, quickly.

"Take these memories back to Harry's office," said Kamalia. "Let him know that we should be done with the rest of them by tomorrow night."

"Yes, Miss Kamalia," said Millie and popped away.

"Ventilation," said Savan, as if coming up with a brilliant theory. It was a continuation of a conversation started almost an hour and a half ago.

Kamalia put her fingers through the mysterious slots on her borrowed nightie and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe," she conceded. She spread her fingers, as she always did, opening up the slot to reveal a bit of her ribs. She had noticed Savan's expression when she did this after first discovering the modifications and had repeated it at every opportunity.

"Doesn't make sense," said Savan, rejecting his own idea. "You could just undo a button or two if you got warm." He examined her closely. Now that his real work was done, he could focus without the usual guilt.

"I give up," said Kamalia, giving the opening one last flare. "Let's go to bed." She rose and eagerly walked to one side of the large bed.

"Alright," said Savan, getting up, himself. "Just remember, Mum; stay on your own side."

"I will, Junior," said Kamalia, a devious smile on her lips. She crawled in on her side just as Savan did the same. "A good mum knows enough to give her grown son plenty of room. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's good," said Savan. He had never been in a feather bed, before, and had to comment, "You know; this bed is really very soft. I could get used to it." He snugged into the deep comfort of the eider down.

"I'm already half asleep," agreed Kamalia. "Good night."

"Good night," said Savan, already groggy from the day's exertions.

Kamalia was half asleep, alright, but she forced herself to go no further. A good mum keeps her distance. She said that over and over as she watched the hands of the clock on the mantle move from eleven to eleven-fifteen, on around past eleven-thirty to finally reach eleven-fifty-seven, then eight, then nine until finally...

'Ah,' thought Kamalia. 'Now it's tomorrow. Now I can pretend to be his wife. Let's see... Where does a good wife sleep?' With extra effort to not wake Savan, she slowly scooted over until she was right next to him. Carefully and with great gentleness, she placed an arm across his chest. Snuggling in, she finally dozed off; an expression of joy on her face.

* * *

Shortly after midnight.

Crunch! "Ow! Stob dowing dat!" Vernon Dursley's nose broke for the third time that night.

"Stuff it!" exclaimed Harry, throwing off his cloak. Not waiting for Aunt Marge to get beyond astonishment at seeing him appear out of thin air, Harry strode over and grabbed one of her sausage sized thumbs. With a turn, they vanished.

"Oh, my," said Petunia. "I wonder where he took her."

"By dose is boke," said Vernon, holding his already blood soak handkerchief over his nose. "Ad less e cowda fix dit."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," said Petunia, wanting to help but not having many options. "Then... What's that noise?" She listened intently as did Vernon. It didn't take long for them to realize the sound was coming from the chimney. Walking over and bending towards the fireplace, they heard a high pitched sound that was growing louder by the second. A few seconds later, they recognized a scream of terror. The both stood up just as Harry and Marge reappeared.

"...Ahhhhh!" finished Marge. She was still white as a sheet and her hair was sticking more or less straight up but she seemed to be relieved to be alive. With a thump, she collapsed into her chair. That poor chair was innocent of any wrongdoing during the night's drama, but it paid the price. With her bum on the cushion and the cushion on the floor, Marge looked up in horror at Harry.

"Do exactly what I say or so help me, I'll take you back and leave you," sputtered Harry.

"How... how... did... how," stuttered Marge.

"No questions," said Harry. "We've already arranged for Dudley's bail. Make sure he gets a good solicitor. Make sure he stays in school. Hire tutors if you have to but make sure he passes his exams. Hire anyone necessary to watch over him and make sure he stays out of trouble." With a turn, he walked back to the back room. A second later, Ripper started barking again. There was a quick flash of light as from a fire and the barking was suddenly replaced by an even more annoying yipping. The scared pooch ran around the corner into the lap of his terrified owner, the tip of his tail still smoldering. Harry returned. Without a word, he raised his arms near to each head. When he felt the grip of their hands, he gave his final warning. "You don't want me to have to come back!" With a turn and a pop; he, along with the floating heads of Vernon and Petunia, vanished.


	91. Chapter 91

Chapter 91 - Friends and Lovers

November 9th, 1997

Five o'clock in the morning in Savan and Kamalia's room

Kamalia had successfully, although regrettably, managed to leave the bed where she had spent perhaps her most contented night in years. She would have preferred to spend two more hours holding onto Savan, especially in the position she had found herself when she awoke. In an unexpected bonus, he had rolled over slightly in his sleep and had put his arm across her. She had to use all of her willpower to choose to leave that little corner of Heaven, but she had work to do.

Savan had noticed when she awoke, of course. As a werewolf, he was accustomed to sleeping lightly. He had been watching her as she slept; nuzzled tightly against him with her totally relaxed smile causing him to grin, despite himself. When she tried to sneak out of bed; oh, so very carefully, it was all he could do to keep from bursting out in laughter. That would break the spell, though, so he remained quiet. Now that he had time to think about it, he was doing some serious soul searching as he tried to decide, once and for all, what he really wanted. If only she were younger. If only he were older. If only...

After about an hour, he could wait no longer. A scheduled bodily function needed to be attended to. He got up and approached the bathroom door. He couldn't hear anything, even with his werewolf ears. He knocked. There was no answer. He knocked, again. Again, no answer. With great care at being silent, he slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open, just a crack.

With the opening of the door, the silencing charm that Kamalia had placed was negated. Now, her soft, desperate crying was there for Savan to hear. Seeing through the opening that she was neither on the toilet nor in the tub, he flung the door open and discovered her sitting in front of the mirror, wrapped in a towel. In front of her was an assortment of powders, cleansers, foundations, toners, blushes, eyeliners, lipsticks and who knows what else. She was currently repeatedly dabbing a finger into a small vial and then pulling the tip of that finger across parts of her face quickly, as if in a near panic. She had been using the other items on the counter as well, it seemed, but wasn't having the success she apparently sought. A pile of tissues, covered in various types of makeup that had been tried, rejected and removed, lay in and about the waste bin; a testament to her many attempts at their use, but her tears told the tale of failure.

"Kamalia," said Savan, rushing in to comfort her. Kamalia was shocked out of her chair but not her misery.

"Stay away from me," she cried, covering her face with her hands. "I'm... I'm not..." She sobbed even harder.

Savan, without a word, wrapped his arms around her but she threw him off. Turning from him, she admitted, "I can't do it. I can't do it, anymore." She looked into the mirror, again, and let the tears pull the last of the mascara from her eyelashes. "Just last year, I think; maybe two years ago, I was able to make up my face and look pretty good. Now, no matter what I do, I'm still... still..." She couldn't say it but she felt terribly old.

Savan, not knowing what to do or say, merely held her marginally; his hands resting on her bare shoulders. Kamalia didn't resist but continued to weep silently, although her breathing became more controlled. When he deemed her to be somewhat under control, Savan reached around her and grabbed a hand towel. Letting some warm water run over it, he carefully began to wipe her attempts at false beauty from her face. She didn't resist, but was calmed even further by his efforts and touch. She let him work for a few minutes in silence, but when he reached for the soap, she grabbed his hand.

"Never use soap on your face," she said. "Use this." She handed him some sort of cleanser. He quickly read the directions and began to apply the cream to her face and neck. With her assistance, when necessary, Savan was able to remove all of the pastes, powders and spackle until only Kamalia remained.

When he was done, he said, "There. Now you're back to normal." Kamalia looked into the mirror and nodded her head, with a frown. "Hold it right there," ordered Savan. "This morning, when I first opened my eyes, you were smiling, even though you were still asleep. I remember thinking how wonderful you looked, just because of your smile. I think if you put that back on, the rest of this stuff won't be necessary." He turned her away from the mirror and smiled at her. She smiled back, putting her arms around him in an earnest hug. Some new tears fell but they remained clear on her clean cheeks.

"I just wanted to look good for you," she said softly, releasing the hug. "I didn't want to look old."

"What an incredible waste of time," he replied. When she began to frown, again, he added, "We could be sleeping in, right now. It's not even seven o'clock."

With a smile that illuminated the room, Kamalia said, "Oh, let's do that. It's so comfortable in that bed, I think we should sleep until at least nine."

"At least," said Savan. "Now, just let me have a bit of privacy and I'll be right with you."

Kamalia gave him another hug and almost ran from the room. Savan closed the door and prepared to attend to his business when he noticed that the nightgown that Kamalia had worn last night was hanging on the back of the door. Taking it down and opening the door, he entered the main room. Holding up the nightie, he said, "You might need this."

Kamalia, who was standing in just a towel, took the nightie and said, hesitantly, "I don't really need it. It's quite warm enough with the two of us, unless you'd feel more comfortable." She looked up into his eyes, letting him know that it was alright with her, either way.

Savan thought for just a moment before saying, "Yes, I would." At her downcast expression, he explained, "Kamalia. We've known each other for years. Even though we've put on a good show at bickering, we've always been friends. Spending the day with you, yesterday, I've come to care for you even more. If you were my age, I'd throw that thing into the fire."

"But you just said you thought I was pretty," said Kamalia.

"You are," said Savan. "You're pretty and smart and fun and if I was just looking for a wife or girlfriend, I'd pick you five times out of six."

"Then what's the problem?" asked Kamalia. It sounded like she was so close.

"Look," said Savan, "I wasn't kidding, before. Just give me a minute." He quickly went back into the bathroom and took care of his business. After a few minutes, he came back out. Kamalia, he noticed, was wearing the nightie and was already in bed. She was on his side and looked neither mad nor eager.

"It's all right," said Kamalia, seriously. "I know I'm just pretending to be your wife for today." With a more chipper voice, she added, "Now, get in bed so we can talk, dear." She pulled back the covers so he could join her.

With less reluctance than he had thought possible, Savan slipped under the sheets with his 'wife'.

"Okay," said Kamalia, scooting up next to him, "you said I was just the ticket except for one thing. I think it's time for you to come clean."

"I want something you can't give me," said Savan, sadly. "Now that we're about to be cured, it's something I don't think I can give up."

"I can give you love," said Kamalia, tearing up, again.

"I know," said Savan. "I want you to know that I could do the same for you. We'd be happy, I suppose, but I'd have to give up something that I'm not sure I could. You see, what I want more than anything is a family. Not just a wife, but children, too." He looked at her, sadly. "When I heard that Harry Potter could cure lycanthropy, the first thought, I mean the very first thought that went through my mind was that I could finally have a family of my own."

Kamalia was silent. She had no counter argument for this. She could give Savan all her love and all her heart and all her soul. What he wanted from her, however, she could no longer give anyone. "I understand," she said, automatically, with an empty voice.

"Kamalia," continued Savan, "you know how my family was, when I was bitten. They..."

"They abandoned you," said Kamalia. "I bit you. They abandoned you. Cause and effect." She sounded a lot colder than he cared for.

"It's not your fault," he said. "It's just the way it is."

"I know how it is," said Kamalia. She remained hard for a moment longer before her heart matched her words. "Oh, Savan; I do understand. It would be selfish to deprive you of your heart's desire. To have a wife and children and grandchildren and... and all that goes with it. I'd give anything to be that wife, but I can't." She held onto him for another minute in silence. Finally, she asked, "Just do me one favor." She looked at him, hope still glimmering as her tears fell into the ashes of her soul.

"If I can," he said, tenderly.

"Let me have this day," she said. "Just give me this one day to be your wife. To cuddle in bed until nine. To go out to lunch, holding hands. To kiss each other fondly goodbye when it's over. Give me this day and I'll cherish it forever." She wrapped her arms around him and he returned the gesture. With a long, deep kiss, they began their first and last day as man and wife.

* * *

A short time later in another bed with an even older woman and her not so much younger boyfriend.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," said Minerva. She was comforting Rufus as best she could. She was being somewhat successful, due mostly to the fact that her nightie was wrinkle free and on the bed post.

"I'm not ashamed," mumbled Rufus. "I'm just... well, I don't know. I've never had this problem before."

"As old as you are," said Minerva, "you have to expect this kind of thing from time to time. I understand."

"It's just not fair to you," said Rufus. "I'm sorry and I want you to know that I'll do everything I can to keep it from happening again."

"It's not a big deal," said Minerva. "The more you dwell on it, the more it's likely to repeat. Just relax, and if it ever does happen again, we'll just deal with it."

"I suppose," said Rufus, still dejected. "I must say that you're taking my calling you 'Sally' better than I would if you called me 'Albus'."

"I doubt that I'd mix you up," said Minerva. "I mean, he was so much... taller." Despite her attire, or lack thereof, she managed to blush, just a bit.

They cuddled for a few minutes until they were interrupted by a knock on the door. As it was the accustomed time for Loxley to bring them their papers, Rufus simply said, "Come in."

"Rufus," said Dawlish as he entered the room, "have you seen... oh, bloody hell." He quickly covered his eyes as Minerva covered her... well, herself.

"It's okay, now, Jack," said Rufus. Jack took a deep breath before continuing across the room. "I thought you were Loxley," explained the Minister.

"I'm taller," said Jack, smirking. "Good morning, Minerva. Sorry about that."

"Good morning, Jack," said Minerva. "I'm pretty sure we both could have lived without that experience."

"You've got that right," said Jack. Before Minerva could be affronted or Rufus could laugh, Dawlish handed Rufus the Sunday Prophet.

"Good Lord," exclaimed Rufus, even before he could unfold the paper. The image of Mort Caro's head from the chin up covered almost the entire upper half of the front page. Upon opening it up, the upper torso finished the picture of a man who, even as a photo, wasn't quite sure why he was there. The headline read, 'Disgraced Auror Saves P.M."

The story ran as a single column down the left side of the picture.

'A plot by You-Know-Who to assassinate one of the most powerful muggles on the face of the Earth, Prime Minister Tony Blair, was thwarted on Thursday evening by Auror Mort Caro. Auror Caro, acting on information obtained through top caliber investigative skills and years of dedicated experience, learned of a planned attempt to capture or murder Mr. Blair. Acting quickly, Auror Caro assembled a team of competent, though less seasoned wizards who were able to locate, identify and dispatch the would-be assassins before they could complete their heinous objective. Described as top-tier Death Eaters, the woebegone minions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had met their match, nay, their superior, in the person of Auror Caro.

But who is Mort Caro? Although courageous and loyal to the Ministry, Mort Caro was also a man who, unknown to most, carried the secret shame of having his own son turn to the side of the Dark Lord. Lamont Caro, age twenty-three, had joined the ranks of Death Eaters during last Summer. He was killed during the attack at Hogsmeade, weeks later. Despite being beyond his control, his son being of age, it is well known that Auror Caro was regularly summoned to the office of the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, to be repeatedly chastised about the situation. After these tongue-lashings, Mr. Caro was often seen to be extremely vexed and distressed. Some even thought it inevitable, with both his son and the Ministry apparently turning against him, that he would leave the Auror Corps and retire to private life.

Fortunately for the sake of England, he was able to prove his worth and remained; rebuilding his unjustly damaged career and achieving the pinnacle of public service. Hats off to Auror Caro.

For further details on the raid and the Death Eaters who were captured, turn to page two.'

During the time Rufus was reading the paper, Loxley had arrived with both his and Minerva's regularly subscribed copies. They had decided to both maintain their subscriptions to prevent arguments while reading it during breakfast. Minerva picked up one copy and Jack had taken Rufus' in compensation for his own.

"At least they aren't playing favorites," said Jack. He had turned to the page two articles and had read some of the hyperbolic prose about the supposed 'top-tier' Death Eaters. Having been in on the follow-up investigation himself, he knew they weren't exactly as competent as described. "You'd think Mort captured the crème de la crème of Death Eaterdom."

A knock came on the open door jam and Kingsley Shacklebolt and Ian Franklin, both carrying papers of their own, came over to join the group. "Minister," said Shacklebolt, taking a seat next to Jack. "I see you've seen the paper. Do you have any ideas on this new tactic?"

"Not any more than you do," said Rufus. "This information has to be coming from Voldemort. He wants Mort built up, for some reason. Besides the obvious possibilities of trying to create some friction in the Auror Corps by singling out Mort for praise, or casting me and the rest of the bureaucracy in a bad light with this fiction of him being on the outs, I don't know. It might be to disrupt the muggle government in some way. You have the new teams in place to protect the P.M.?"

"As of last night," said Dawlish. "Mort handled it."

"That's good," said Rufus, getting a distant look on his face just after.

"What is it, Rufus," asked Minerva. She set down her paper in concern.

"Minerva," said Shacklebolt, discretely. "You might want to pull the sheets up a bit." The top of the bed coverings were at a point around the middle of her chest. Fortunately, at her age, the 'interesting bits' were closer to her navel.

"Perhaps we should postpone this meeting until nine o'clock," said Rufus. He set down his paper, exposing his own, somewhat hairier chest. "In my study, here at the house," he continued. "I want Mort to be there, as well."

"Yes, Minister," said Jack, rising with the rest of them to leave. "Sorry, Minerva," he added as he led the rest out of the room.

When they had gone and closed the door, Minerva said, "I suppose I'd better get dressed." She flipped the sheets up and prepared to pivot out of bed.

"What's the hurry?" asked Rufus, that 'look' in his eye. "The meeting isn't for almost three hours from now."

"Oh, Rufus," said Minerva, chuckling as she slipped back under the sheets, "whatever am I going to do with you?"

"I've got a few ideas," said Rufus as the papers fell to the floor.

* * *

Shortly after that, in a certain hotel.

"Oh," sighed Kamalia, contentedly, "_that's_ what they're for."

* * *

At five minutes to nine, in the Minister's private study.

"Why am I here?" asked Luna. She was sitting at a side table along with Hermione. She, along with Harry and Hermione were summoned at the request of the Minister of Magic. Jumper and Tripper had also made the trip, for security. They stood out of the way, on opposite sides of the room.

"I'm sure I don't know," said Hermione. She was reading the Daily Prophet, again. "It might be due to this story on the front page. An attack on the Prime Minister would be serious. Then again, there's a few other stories in here that might be related, but we'll probably just have to wait and see." She took a sip of the tea that Loxley had brought her when showing her to the room.

"There was one story near the back that reminded me of something I've been meaning to discuss with you and Harry," said Luna. "You see..." Before she could continue, the door opened and Jack and Kingsley came in, gossiping like old women.

"...as well walk around starkers," finished Jack. "It'd save them both a lot of time." They both laughed before noticing the two young women; one of them quite familiar to both of them; the other a mystery to almost everyone.

"Hello, Hermione," said Shacklebolt. "Did Rufus ask you to this meeting?" The answer was obvious but the motive remained elusive.

"Of course," replied Hermione. "Both of us. Harry was also requested but he's temporarily unavailable."

"I suppose he can do that," said Jack. "Generally speaking, if the Minister of Magic wishes to talk with you, you're supposed to show up."

"He'll have to learn to make an appointment in advance, then," said Hermione. "Harry's taking a nap, right now."

Both Jack and Kingsley were dumbstruck by such a poor excuse. Seeing this, Hermione explained, "He cured a werewolf just before Minerva flooed. Harry's pretty much knackered after doing that so he had to take a pass."

"I see," said Kingsley. "Hello, young lady," he continued, addressing Luna. "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt." He took Luna's hand when offered.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Shacklebolt," replied Luna.

"And this is Jack Dawlish," said Hermione, taking up the roll of introducer. "Jack, Kingsley; this is Luna Lovegood. She's a close friend of Harry and me and the daughter of Linus Lovegood, the publisher of the Quibbler."

"Pleased to meet you, Luna," said Jack.

"Likewise," said Luna, a bit of recognition coming across her face. "I believe Hermione mentioned something about you saving her life."

"Did I?" asked Jack, trying to remember.

"At Harry's funeral," reminded Hermione. "You knocked me off the platform when some nasty looking spell was about to get me. I never properly thanked you for that, by the way. Thank you." She took a moment to rise and give him a hug.

"Well," said Jack, pleased, "I have to say that I was glad to do it. I'm not sure I remember it clearly. We hit the ground pretty hard, if my foggy memory serves. Then again, there was a lot of rough and tumble action that day."

"I'll say," said Luna. "It was all we could do on our end to..."

They were interrupted when Rufus entered the room, accompanied by Mort Caro.

"Hello, Hermione," said Rufus. "Hello, Luna."

"Very good, Minister," said Luna. "We've only met a few times, but you seem to have a knack for names."

"I can usually keep track of young ladies," said Rufus, winking. "The older ones, though..." He trailed off, not intending to pursue his inside joke. "I'm glad you could join us. Now that we're... Wait, a moment. Where's Harry?" He looked around, acknowledging the elves in the red cloaks but sticking with his original question.

"Napping," said Jack.

"Napping?" asked Rufus, astounded. "Oh, well. As long as he has a good excuse. Shall we take our seats?" He indicated the large table in the middle of the room.

After everyone had repositioned themselves, Rufus began the meeting. "I suppose that everyone's read the Prophet this morning so there shouldn't be much doubt about the purpose of this meeting."

"No, Minister," said Luna, "although I would have assumed that some representatives from St. Mungo's would be here."

"I beg your pardon?" asked Rufus. He wasn't the only befuddled one in the room.

"The deaths mentioned at St. Mungo's," explained Luna. "On page nine, I believe. They're confused about why so many people who were kissed by dementors had died, all at the same time. Isn't that why you wanted to talk to me?"

"Ah, no," said Rufus. "I didn't have time to get that far."

"You were reading the paper three hours ago," said Jack, smiling.

"I had important things to do," said Rufus, becoming a little hot under the collar. "Big things. Official things. I couldn't be bothered with reading page nine of that rag."

"Did any of those big, important, official things require Minerva to finally put on her nightgown?" asked Shacklebolt.

"Eventually," said Rufus, smirking. "Perhaps we could discuss that topic after this meeting, young lady. For now, though, I think the story on the front page is of more pressing interest."

"It didn't interest my wife," said Mort. "She barely glanced at it. More interested in the ads, I suppose." In truth, he was fairly confident that she had stopped reading at the 'Disgraced Auror' part. He wasn't particularly pleased, either. It was a fairly congratulatory article on him, but only at the expense of his team and Rufus.

"There are a few points about the article that warrant our concern," said Rufus. "It's fairly obvious that it wasn't intended to just glorify Mort. Several pieces of information that should have been secret, or at least not general knowledge were mentioned. The specific target being the Prime Minister; the names of the Death Eaters who were captured as well as specifics about their pasts; your multiple visits to see me. You did a better job of hiding your feelings, as well. There was some inside help on this story."

"So the purpose of this meeting is to find out why," summarized Mort. "You-Know-Who's obviously behind this, but what does he hope to gain?"

"He's trying to bring you down, a notch," said Hermione. "Now that it's out in the open that you and Harry are not only working together, but are close friends, he needs to do something to hurt you, politically."

"That might be part of it," agreed Rufus. "We also considered that it might be to force us to increase the protection for Blair. He was halfway successful with that. Fortunately, you and Hammer had seven men trained enough for that duty. Still, we had to use seven regulars to fill that detail."

"Has the Prime Minister been informed?" asked Hermione.

"Of course," said Kingsley. "Even a muggle would have to notice the increase in security. He's rattled, a bit, but that's normal for someone who just found out he was marked for assassination."

"He hasn't mentioned making any scheduling changes, because of this, has he?" continued Hermione.

"Not that I know of," answered Kingsley. "You think that publicizing this to this degree might be an attempt to influence the muggles?"

"It's possible," said Rufus. "If this is just the first stage, it might not be possible to determine the desired result."

"Maybe we should interview Rita," suggested Jack. "Her information seems to be too complete. I'd like to know where it's coming from."

"Some of it is from one of our associates," said Hermione. "He was your informant. He isn't as subtle or retiring as we'd like for a spy, so maybe he's spoken with Rita, as well."

"I'd say that's a probability," agreed Mort. "I won't mention his name, but your description matches well enough. I might have to pay him more to get him to keep quiet."

"That would explain some of the inside information," said Rufus, "but not the slant and prominence of the article. That had to come from Voldemort."

"So we're back to the original question," said Hermione. "What's he up to?"

"Kingsley," said Rufus, decisively. "Call on Rita. Maybe use a correction or two as a cover. Try to find out what she knows and how she knows it. Mort. Check in with your informant. See if he's on the up and up. Jack. Stop walking in on Minerva and me." There was a brief spurt of laughter.

"I'll miss you," said Jack, implying that his assignment might be the most difficult.

"We'll check..." began Hermione before Rufus shut her down with a hand gesture. Not a rude one. He just indicated that she should stop speaking, for the moment.

"Off you go, gentlemen," said Rufus, dismissing them. With confused looks all around, the three aurors rose and left the room. Rufus followed them and shut and locked the door. He then cast what Hermione recognized as a silencing charm on the room. Returning to his seat, he said, "Now we can talk."

* * *

Meanwhile, in a particularly wide corridor of Hogwarts

Vernon Dursley felt alone. Well, he _was_ alone; at least mostly. The occasional student walked by on their way to or from somewhere else, but none had any reason to stop. Petunia, despite the showers that covered this part of Great Britain this morning, had decided to work in her greenhouse. It was her way of redirecting her thoughts from something less pleasant. This left Vernon to sit in the company of a creature with whom he shared two common characteristics; they were both big boned and they had both once been the enemy of Harry Potter. As its big bones were all that were left of the basilisk, Vernon was free to pursue his contemplations on the irony that his life wasn't in much better shape.

Although physically more appropriately shaped for Gluttony, his most noticeable Deadly Sin was Pride. He had little upon to hang his hat as a youth; his sister, now that he thought of it, crushing his hopes and desires as well as diminishing any small accomplishments he might have accrued. His parents, believing her versions of events over his, had relegated him to the back burner of their interests. He had been sent to Smeltings, a fine institution overall, but she had gone to Wycombe Abbey. Although not at a great disadvantage, intellectually, with his fellow graduates, his father, a widower by then, had become so enamored by Marge that higher academia was ruled out in favor of a trade school. Having the options of either taking it or leaving it, he took it. After ten years in various levels of apprenticeship and journeyman positions, he had finally achieved master machinist status. With this achievement, came the responsibility of running his own team; then section; then department and finally factory. His success was less rewarding than it could have been. His father had followed his mother before he had even achieved journeyman status. His sister had never acknowledged any of his advancements or promotions, preferring to dwell on her latest breeding adjustments. Still, he was the master of his own little world and he enjoyed his job.

Then, on one fateful day, Mr. Grunnings, the owner of the company, had come to see him. He was to be offered the proverbial One Promotion Too Many. He accepted and reached what would pretty much be the zenith of what he could expect in the company without managing to being adopted by the owner. And he hated it. He had spent fifteen years with factory men. They said what they thought in any manner they chose. He'd bark at them and they'd bite back; no one taking it personally. The word 'mister' never preceded anyone's name. Indeed, he found himself at a loss, at times, on those few occasions when he actually needed to know someone's last name, even having worked with them for over a decade. And then he was suddenly thrust into 'polite company'. In the main office, everyone was addressed as Mister or Miss or even Sir. He shuddered just remembering it. He yelled at a subordinate once, just out of habit, and was summoned to the Human Resources department to discuss his temper and how he should keep it under control. Bloody hell; yelling was _how_ he kept his temper under control. He didn't see it getting any better, either. He knew drills. He could make every part himself; from the spindle to the chuck key. He could hold one in his hand and pull the trigger and know where any problems with balance or torque were located and how to fix them. In the office, however, he was ridiculed when someone made a comment about Xeno's Paradox and he didn't have a bloody clue on what he was talking about. He checked three dictionaries but couldn't find Zeno in any of them. He was surrounded by people who's diplomas might as well have been written in crayon for their understanding of mechanics, but _he_ was considered the dolt. He had gone from being regarded as the best factory manager to the worst director. True, if anyone had any questions about drills, they knew where to go. But it seemed that drills didn't come up that often. There were the latest books and plays to discuss. The new restaurant across town. The ramifications of the latest trade treaties with Ghana.

It was around this time that his son was born; a precious little blob with a prodigious appetite. He vowed to be a better father than his was. Where his dad had kept him down; he'd encourage every accomplishment. Where he had been corrected mercilessly and continuously; Dudley was allowed to seek his own definitions of right and wrong. Where he had to live with his sister's hand-me-downs; no expense was spared on Dudley. Things would be different for his son than they had been for him. If he couldn't have pride in his work, anymore, he'd have pride in his son. That worked for a while, until a baby was left on his doorstep.

As he looked back on it, now, Harry wasn't really much of a problem child except for what _might_ happen. With his job, at least in his own mind, hanging by a thread; another expression that he hadn't a clue on the origin, he was petrified that Harry would do something that would have the owner finally decide, 'That's it for Dursley.' and let him go. What that _something_ might be, he had no idea. For the first ten years, the incidents confined themselves to such things as extreme hair growth or unexplained excursions on the tops of school sheds. Naturally, as the boy aged, the displays of magic increased in severity. The most public occurrence was when the glass in front of that bloody boa constrictor vanished. The most damaging to his career, though, was when Harry had performed some sort of magic in the kitchen while they were entertaining an important client and dropped the some pudding. The subsequent owls that were sent to inform Harry of the illegality of this act terrorized Mrs. Mason to the point of near hysterics. He had actually nearly lost his job on that one. If not for the skills learned in the factory at deflecting blame, he was sure he'd have been out on the street. As it was, he convinced his boss that a small bird had flown through an open window and that Mrs. Mason had come completely unglued. He had been put on notice, but he had kept his job.

Harry hadn't spent that much time at home, after that. Only a few more incidents had followed; most notably his sister had been inflated to the size of a weather balloon. He no longer felt bad about that. He did feel bad about his reaction to Harry driving off those dementors. He didn't actually believe they existed, at the time. After the events of last week, however, and feeling the effects for himself as well as seeing all of those wizards and witches who could actually see the bloody things, fleeing for their lives; he knew that Dudley had been saved from a fate worse than death, that night. For the crime of saving Dudley, he had locked Harry up in his room, like a prisoner.

And now here he was; his and his wife's lives saved by Harry. He was freed from his prestigious, though mortifying job, living the life of a retired gentleman. His wife was happier than he had seen her in years. Even his health problems had been cleared up; all because of Harry. His own son, it could be argued, would have about a fifty-fifty chance of staying out of prison. If he did manage that, it would again be through the financial and practical help of Harry and his friends. It might be time to have a change of attitude.

As if on cue, two young children, a boy and a girl, came walking into the hallway. Unlike their predecessors, this was their destination. Vernon was sitting against the wall that the archway they had passed through was in, so they didn't notice his presence. The boy, leading the way, walked up to the plaque and read, "This Basilisk resided in the fabled Chamber of Secrets for a thousand years. It was responsible for the death of one student, whose ghost, Moaning Myrtle, still haunts this castle. It was slain by Harry Potter in the Spring of 1993, using the Sword of Gryffindor. There," he said, triumphantly. "It's nineteen-ninety-seven, now, and he's a seventh year. Therefore, he was a third year in nineteen-ninety-three when he killed it, not a second year."

"He'll be a seventh year in the Spring of nineteen-ninety-eight," replied Marcia. "He was a second year in the Spring of nineteen-ninety-three."

John held up seven fingers and slowly lowered them, one at a time, while muttering years. When he got down to two fingers, his lips said 'three' but he didn't make a sound. "Alright," he conceded, "I'll admit you're right. I don't see how he did it as just a second year, though." They both looked at the sixty feet of snake bones and shrugged. As they turned to leave, Marcia noticed Vernon leaning against the wall.

"Hello, Mr. Dursey," she said, almost getting his name right. "I didn't know you were here or we mightn't have bothered with the sign. Could you answer a question for us?"

Vernon had no magical knowledge and everything he knew about Harry and the snake was printed on the plaque, but he said, "I'll try."

"Well, sir," said John, making Vernon wince, "Marcia and I were discussing how it could be possible for Harry Potter to have killed the basilisk when he was only twelve. I thought that he was thirteen at the time and, therefore, much bigger. It seems I was wrong, so we're back to wondering, again."

Vernon looked at the snake. He assumed that if he had fought the snake, even as a man, the end result would be a smaller set of bones inside the display. Harry was, at seventeen, not quite five feet, nine inches tall and of slender build. In short, he had no idea how to answer the young boys question.

"I'm afraid I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think he was any bigger than you, at the time. Perhaps you should ask him yourselves."

"Well, there goes my theory," said Marcia. Turning to Vernon, she explained, "I figured that he might have been much larger when he was younger, what with having survived fighting a dragon as well as this snake. I thought he might have just drank some shrinking potion by mistake, recently."

"A dragon?' asked Vernon. That was news to him.

"Of course," said John. "You must remember. He was one of the Hogwarts champions in the Tri-Wizard Tournament a few years ago. He won, of course."

"Of course," muttered Vernon.

"You might not have been able to attend," said Marcia, "being muggles. Some of my fan magazines have pictures, though. Would you like me to show you?"

"That would be very nice of you," said Vernon, although he was thinking 'Fan magazines?'.

"I won't be a second," said Marcia as she ran off.

John sat on the bench next to Vernon to wait for her return. He looked up at Vernon with a quizzical face and said, "I'd always heard that Harry's uncle was a mean man, but you seem quite nice."

"That's his other uncle," said Vernon. "He won't be coming around here."

* * *

Back at the Minister's house.

Rufus said, "I'm a little hesitant to bring up the reason I wished to talk with Luna. First of all, it's quite important that it remains secret, and secondly, well, I don't like the topic."

Hermione and Luna looked at each other before Hermione, as the senior member of the duo, said, "You can trust Luna, Rufus. Despite appearances, not much gets by her, anyway." Luna smiled at the comment.

"I know," agreed Rufus. "That's why she's here, to be honest. My apologies, but I only asked you and Harry to accompany her to disguise the fact that she was coming. Just a bit of camouflage, you see."

"I was wondering why you didn't seem concerned that Harry wasn't here," said Hermione. "I appreciate the fact that you're concerned for Luna's anonymity."

"Very much so," said Rufus. "Her special gifts are more important, I think, than even you realize."

"What are you getting at, Minister?" asked Hermione.

"What I'm getting at is that of all the people I've met in your organization," answered Rufus, "there are two that are irreplaceable. One is Harry and the other is Luna. You, me, Ron, Minerva and almost anyone else, although important, wouldn't be a death blow. We've been shown in vivid detail that the actual loss of Harry wouldn't be survivable. I think the same would be true of Luna, although the fall would take longer."

"I'm just a young school girl, Minister," said Luna. "All I do is talk to the prisoners and keep them from lying to Harry and Hermione."

"Exactly," said Rufus. "You can tell when you're being lied to. To know if someone is telling the truth or lying is vital. It is also the reason I needed you here, today. It is a rare gift, but not unknown. I have a short list of two others I could call if necessary. I won't be adding your name to that list in case I should be killed; it's that big of a secret for Harry. The reason you're irreplaceable is that Harry trusts you, absolutely. Those other two I mentioned are much older and have their own agendas. You, on the other hand, at least from my observations, would die before you'd deceive Harry."

"You humble me, Minister," said Luna, "but I can't deny it. Harry was the first person besides my father to show me compassion and acceptance. He's trusted my with his secrets and protected me from those less understanding. I wouldn't know for sure unless tested, but I would hope that you're right."

"I'm right," said Rufus. "Now, for why you're here, today. The three men who were with us, just now. I've known them all for years. Jack was my partner for almost ten years. Mort and Kingsley are also like brothers to me and I wouldn't hesitate to trust my life to any of them. I've done so, in fact." He paused.

"But you want to know if any have been turned," said Luna.

"I want to know if any have been turned," repeated Rufus. "I have to know that I can absolutely trust these men. The Prime Minister's life is at stake as well as whatever else Voldemort might have up his sleeve. Mort, especially, seems to be at the center of this. His son was, I believe, coerced into becoming a Death Eater. He was then killed. That can change the best of men. He's currently overseeing the security detail for the Prime Minister. So, yes; I want to know for a fact that I can still trust him."

"There was only one time that he wasn't being truthful," said Luna, "at least not totally. When he mentioned his wife's reaction to the article, I sensed that she was more interested in it than he let on. He wasn't pleased with the story and if I had to guess, neither was his wife. We'd have had to have discussed it more fully to get the whole story. Other than that, I think he's still with you."

"I knew he wasn't telling the real story on that," agreed Rufus. "Parry took Lamont's death pretty hard, of course. Any mention of it would have an impact on her. I'll let him keep that little secret." He stood up. "Thanks, Luna. You've put my mind to ease."

Sensing the time to leave had arrived, Hermione and Luna bid their farewells and, with an elf each, returned to Hogwarts.

Author's note: For those of you who didn't get it, in the shortest chapter section ever, Kamalia was referring to the slots in her borrowed nightgown.


	92. Chapter 92

Chapter 92 - In Sickness and in Health

November 9th, 1997

Just after lunch, Harry and Hermione went to the rooms that Hogwarts supplied to Honey and Ron. They had both guessed that the reason they hadn't seen their friends was because they were at their house, in Hogsmeade. A quick check with Winky dispelled that idea so they decided to find out the reason that the new couple had laid low for the past couple of days. With the exception of Draco's funeral, they had remained out of sight. This was unusual; hence, the visit.

Harry knocked on the door. There didn't seem to be anyone coming so he knocked again. The door instantly opened and an agitated Ron, hovering on his carpet, was soon shushing them.

"Shush," he said, softly. "Honey's trying to sleep." He looked worriedly back towards their bedroom.

"It's a bit early for that, isn't it?" asked Hermione. She kept her voice low simply because Ron had.

"She's not feeling well," said Ron. "We think it's a touch of the flu."

"Has she seen Madam Pomfrey?" asked Harry, entering the flat since an invitation didn't seem to be forthcoming. Hermione followed.

"Not yet," said Ron. "She says that it isn't that big of a deal to bother her. She says she just needs some rest."

"Does she have a fever?" asked Hermione, concerned.

"She feels a little warm," said Ron. "She's also been throwing up quite a bit."

"She wasn't feeling good earlier in the week, either," said Harry. "Wednesday or Thursday night, I think."

"I remember," said Hermione. "You said she's _trying_ to sleep, Ron. Is she asleep, now?"

"No," said Ron. "I was..." He stopped talking when Hermione brushed past him on the way to the bedroom.

"Why don't you go have a look?" asked Ron to the air.

"Is she decent?" asked Harry. He'd like to do some checking of his own.

"What?" asked Ron. Before Harry could repeat the question, he said, "Oh, sure. Well, maybe I'll check to see if the sheets are pulled up, first." He went off towards the bedroom with Harry following at a respectable distance.

Ron looked in and turned back to inform Harry of the status of Honey's level of modesty when Hermione came back into the room, brushing the edge of the carpet out of her way. "Jumper," she said, tersely.

"Yes, Mis...," began the elf.

"Take me to Madam Pomfrey," ordered Hermione, not wasting any time.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," said Jumper, reaching for the offered hand. Before he took it, though, Hermione spoke to Harry.

"Go and check on her, Harry," said Hermione. "See if everything's okay. I'll be right back." She then took Jumper's hand and vanished.

"Sure," said Harry, like Ron before him, to the air.

"This way," said Ron and floated into the room.

Honey was sitting up, more or less, with a large pail clutched into her pale hands. Harry thought of making a pun about the homonyms but decided that such a comment, under the circumstances, would be beyond the pale.

"Hi, Harry," said Honey as Harry approached. "I'm sure that Hermione's overreacting. I just have a touch of the flu, or something." She closed her eyes for a moment before positioning the bucket. After a few seconds, she relaxed, again. "I think I just need some rest. Maybe some chicken soup, if I can keep it down."

Harry didn't respond or move closer, but he was reaching out to her with his senses. His first concern, of course, was for her and Ron's baby. It was easier to detect now, and seemed to be quite strong and healthy. Moving on to Honey, he tried to compare her to his memories of the past. She seemed more or less the same with the exception that her chest and stomach areas had what, for lack of a better word, and he really wanted a word less associated with Divination, they had a bad aura. This made sense since she was obviously nauseous and he could hear the wheezes as she breathed.

"Off hand," said Harry, "I'd say you're right. Your baby seems to be fine, at any rate." Honey smiled at this since she had been worried that her illness might affect her child.

"Can you do anything?" asked Ron. Like a lot of people, he tended to take excellence in one area as a sign of competence in another.

"I doubt it," said Harry. "I'm only really good for replacing limbs or healing injuries. I don't think the flu is in the blood so a transfusion wouldn't help. If she were really sick and in danger of dying, I might be able to do the same thing I did with Minerva, but that shouldn't be done except in extreme cases."

"Why not?" asked Ron. "I mean I'm not trying to talk you into it. I'm just curious as to why you aren't shying away from curing werewolves but the whatever-it-was you did with McGonagall is off limits."

"Well," said Harry, "remember when Hermione was describing how Sleepy used her life to save the three of you?" Ron nodded. "We figured that I did the same thing to save myself. I used a piece of my life to amplify the little magic that was lingering in me. It exhausted me and I was weak for hours. I've done some thinking and, looking back, I've done the same thing a few other times. The first time was when I saved Hermione at Riddle Manor. It happened again, when I crushed that suit of armor. After that, when I just vanished and ended up at St. Mungo's to get Minerva after Dobby's funeral and also when curing her. With the exception of the armor, which was just because I was pretty upset at Zabini's comment, they were all life or death situations. Maybe you have to have some adrenaline flowing for it to work. I never really actively tried to use it. It just came when I needed it. I almost used it on Zabini when he mocked you, that once. It's a good thing Minerva stopped me, as I think about it. I could have wiped out half of Slytherin House."

"So you'll die a few hours or days earlier than you normally would have because of those times you used that power?" asked Ron.

"No idea," said Harry. "Grampa and I had talked about it once before but he didn't mention any specifics. It killed Sleepy, though, so I'd just as soon not push my luck unless I have to."

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron, understanding.

It wasn't long after that that Hermione returned with Poppy. "Hello, Honey," she said, approaching the sick witch. "I thought this might happen. The odds are about fifty-fifty, you know." She took out her wand and started her examination.

"What is it?" asked Ron, alarmed.

Poppy didn't answer for a few minutes but continued with her checks. Finally, she said, "You're right, Hermione." She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of pills.

"What is it?" asked Ron, still alarmed but addressing Hermione.

"Morning sickness," said Hermione and Poppy, together.

"Morning sickness?" asked Honey, confused.

"Yes," said Poppy. "It's fairly common. She also has a little chest congestion but that's probably from aspirating some of the vomit. This will help the nausea. Take four per day. One pill when you get up; another at noon; one at supper and one before bed."

"What is it?" asked Honey, taking the bottle.

"Ginger," said Poppy. "It's an ancient cure for nausea. Safer for the baby." She snapped her bag shut. "Take two, now, and try to get some sleep. Any questions?" She looked ready to go.

"Just one," said Honey. "Two, actually. How long will this morning sickness go on?"

"It's hard to say," said Poppy. "Off and on, you might have problems for anywhere from one month to your whole pregnancy. Just take the ginger when you start to feel queasy and continue the dosage for at least one or two days. That should keep you feeling well enough."

"Thanks," said Honey.

"You had another question, I believe," said Hermione.

"Oh, yes," said Honey, sporting her confused look. "If this is morning sickness, why do I still feel so bad? It's almost one o'clock, after all."

Whack!

"Why'd you do that?" asked Ron, rubbing the back of his head.

"Honey isn't feeling well," answered Hermione. She turned and led the non-Weasleys out of the room.

* * *

Later that afternoon, in Riddle Manor.

"Ahhh!" cried Cavendish in pain. "I'm sorry, Master. I was just trying to do as you ordered, Master." Giles Cavendish lay twitching on the floor. The Dark Lord dropped the parchment that had angered him on its author.

"You seem to be a little _too_ good at this," said Voldemort, coldly. Looking around at the other frightened faces huddled over their parchments, he clarified, "I'm looking for letters expressing admiration for Mr. Caro's bravery and cunning in thwarting an attempt to kill the Prime Minister. Some disparaging remarks about his treatment from the Minister of Magic as well as the Ministry in general should be included. However, although a general level of anger and disgust at those immediately responsible for the attack is expected, don't make Mr. Cavendish's mistake of extending those thoughts and sentiments in reference to me. Is that understood?" A sea of bobbing heads sailed in with a synchronized, not to mention sycophantic, chorus of "Yes, Master." Satisfied, Voldemort continued his walk around the room.

After a further half hour or so, the content of the letters had begun to generally meet with Lord Voldemort's approval. At this point, the writers would, as they completed their essays, take them to Snape who, being the ex-professor, would check them for spelling and grammar. After all, these were meant to appear to come from intelligent, well-reasoning citizens; not the common unwashed masses.

By supper time, twenty-nine of the letters met the standards set by the Dark Lord in both glowing admiration and syntax. "Very good, Severus," said Voldemort, glancing through the stack. "Very good, indeed. Have the authors address them to the Editor of the Daily Prophet. They should disperse throughout the country before owling, though. Two thirds should be sent tonight while the rest should wait until tomorrow morning. I want it to look like a natural outpouring of support from the populace."

"Of course, Master," said Snape. "Shall I notify our agent or would you prefer to see how this plays out?"

"Notify her," said Voldemort, confidently. "We strike next Saturday night." With a sinister smile that had become a rare sight, lately, he left the room.

* * *

Shortly thereafter, in the men's werewolf dormitory

"I'm not sure I understand," stated Arne Reule. "Why are you giving me this money?" Despite its real weight, the old wizard held the bag quite comfortably with one hand due to the lightening enchantment that Remus had placed on the cloth.

"Because you're cured, now, Arne," explained Remus. "Your hearing and eyesight, which haven't exactly been at peek performance for a while, are now even worse. Your strength and stamina are also lowered. The good news is you won't feel the need to kill your neighbors once a month. This means you can relocate to someplace where you can be checked on, from time to time; or seek assistance, if necessary."

"I like my house," argued Arne. "It's got character."

"It's got termites," countered Remus, "and your carpets have fleas and your roof has skylights that weren't part of the original design. I don't know how it's managed to stay standing, to tell you the truth."

"It's magic," said Arne, smiling. "Besides, it was good enough when you needed a place to hole up."

"I appreciate those times," said Remus. "We all did. It was unusually kind of you to have a spare safe room; just for guests. But you aren't a kind, old werewolf any more. You're an old man, although I suspect you'll still be kind to strangers. This money is for you to find a place suitable for a man to live out the rest of his life. It's enough to buy a small cottage somewhere or maybe you could put it in Gringotts and let the interest pay the rent on a nice house in a wizarding village, or a flat in a city, if you prefer."

Arne sat on the edge of the bed in the dormitory. He knew his life would be different after he was cured, but he didn't anticipate having to move. He had always liked the privacy and freedom that living in the middle of nowhere bestowed upon him. Still, at eighty-nine, although not ancient for a wizard, he wasn't quite as spry as he used to be. Neither was his house. Some of his neighbors, if you could call someone a neighbor who lived over two miles away, had taken it upon themselves to check on him, from time to time, and to have him over for the occasional meal. If he were injured or ill, he'd be hard pressed to attract any help. Perhaps, cured or not, it was time to admit his limitations.

"I appreciate the gesture, Remus," said Arne, glancing at the bag, "don't think I don't. It's just I'm already so indebted to young Mr. Potter that I'll never be able to make it good with him."

"You don't have to tell me that," said Remus, laughing. Arne joined him as Remus continued, "This money is from an anonymous benefactor, though, so you don't have to worry about accepting it."

"Anonymous benefactor?" asked Arne. He thought a moment. "Ian's still trying to help out, I see." Ian, from almost the moment he was bitten, had tried to make the best of a bad situation through the judicious use of his ancestral wealth. He was able to live a mostly normal life, simply because he could set his own hours and terms. He didn't need a job. He could hire people to monitor and care for him during his transformations. He was protected from the prejudices of the locals by maintaining his previous characteristics of generosity and geniality. What he didn't understand, and probably never would, was that the curse of lycanthropy brought with it the desire to overcome the odds that had suddenly been stacked against them. They were werewolves; not invalids. They would accept the occasional bit of generosity from each other, such as Arne had provided with his spare safe room, but only insomuch as they could reciprocate some other time. To take charity; even from a fellow werewolf, was not in their nature.

"Yes, he is," answered Remus. "He asked Harry to help out each of us. Harry, being Harry, would have done the same if Ian hadn't beaten him to it. I was given the job of implementing this program, probably since I was a werewolf, myself. So far, I haven't been able to get anyone to take much more than bus fare."

"I wouldn't doubt it," said Arne with a knowing chuckle.

"I wouldn't want to take anything myself," said Remus, "but I'm fortunate enough to have a paying job, anyway. However, you, my friend, won't be starting a new career. Those odd jobs and flea markets you're so fond of might be more difficult to pursue, as the years go on. In your case, it might be best to swallow your well-earned pride and accept this as a gift. After all those years as an outcast, you deserve to retire in peace."

Arne sat quietly for a moment, finally coming to a conclusion he could accept. "I think an annuity would be just the ticket," he said. "Yes, that might work out. If I find that I can take care of myself,_ like I have all my life_," he added with emphasis, "then the money could just accrue without my intervention. If I should find that I'm a little short some month, then it would be available. The balance could be willed back to Ian." He seemed happy with the compromise.

Remus was relieved, as well. "Thank you, Arne," he said, patting his old friend on the shoulder. "I think you've hit on the right way to handle this. I probably should have talked to you openly in the first place, instead of just offering you the money."

"You're finally starting to understand the connection between age and wisdom," said Arne. "It's like compound interest; you don't start with much, but over time, it builds up."

* * *

Shortly after nine P.M., in the hallway just outside of the hospital wing.

"Harry Potter," said Jumper, popping into existence. He was almost directly in front of Harry, but had to quickly turn and begin walking as neither Harry, nor Hermione, showed any inclination to stop.

"Good evening, Jumper," said Harry, wearily. "What's up?" He was exhausted from his most recent curing; this time, of Maggie Jewel. He couldn't afford to stop and chat since he needed to either keep moving or risk falling asleep where he stood.

"Mistress Kamalia and Master Savan is being in the office of the Fortress, Harry Potter," answered Jumper. "They is saying that they is being done with the work that Harry Potter is being asking them to be being doing."

"That's great," said Hermione. "Just wait with us, for a moment."

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," answered Jumper, maintaining a slow jog to keep up.

"Come here, please, Winky," requested Hermione. She ignored Harry's confused look. They had an elf with them, already, and he didn't see why they needed a second.

"What can Winky be being doing for Mistress?" asked Winky, predictably.

"Take Harry back to our bedroom," ordered Hermione.

"I can make it on my own," groused Harry, understanding that Hermione planned to talk to their surveyors. He was glad she hadn't expected him to postpone his date with his pillow, but wondered why she thought Winky needed to be summoned.

"You're beat," said Hermione, bluntly. "You don't need to be walking that far and I don't want you apparating in your condition." She put her hands on her hips, signifying in wife body language that he had better do as she says.

"Fine," said Harry, not wishing to argue. He held out his hand to Winky.

"Be sure to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight," ordered Hermione, smirking.

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky as she took Harry's hand. Harry looked like he was taking in the breath needed for a comment but was gone before it was uttered.

"Let's go to the office," said Hermione, reaching for Jumper. In a moment, the hallway was clear.

* * *

When Hermione popped into her office, she was surprised, and yet not, to find Savan with his arms around Kamalia, giving her an extremely passionate, loving and quite intimate kiss. Kamalia, for her part, was doing her best to dust off his tonsils. She had her arms around his neck; trying, it would seem, to pull herself up the three extra inches necessary for their heights to match. Savan was helping in this endeavor, but was supporting the cause by lowering his hands to just beneath her bum. Sensing this, Kamalia pushed up with her toes to extend his reach and wrapped her legs around his waist as they, incredible as it may seem to believe, deepened their kiss.

"Ahem," said Hermione, trying to get their attention before they completely lost control. She considered that it might already be too late. Savan didn't notice, but Kamalia raised one hand with her index finger extended to signify that they just needed a minute. Hermione was stunned, and just a bit jealous, but managed to eventually turn away and sit in her chair to wait.

When the minute Kamalia had requested, and the next one, had finally passed, the couple managed to break back into two people. "Thank you," said Kamalia, sighing in her emotionally drained contentment. Breathing in deeply to combat her temporary case of oxygen deprivation, she slumped into Harry's chair.

"You're welcome," said Savan, equally short of breath. He found Tonk's seat.

"I was going to ask about your mission," said Hermione, smiling smirkily, "but now I'm wondering if these bottles show anything but the insides of hotel rooms." She gestured at the plethora of small, memory filled bottles strewn across the center table. Next to them were the nightclothes, neatly folded, as well as the remains of the money they had been given for expenses. Kamalia's purchases had already been taken to her dorm's bedside by elf.

"We finished our assignment," said Savan, "and there was only the one hotel. It was quite nice, but we didn't make any memories of it."

"Speak for yourself," said Kamalia, pulling two bottles out of her borrowed muggle jacket. "I plan on having a vicarious thrill, from time to time, when I happen to come across someone with a pensieve." She put the bottles back.

Hermione decided to get down to business. "It looks like you were thorough," she said, glancing at a few of the labels. "Did you run into any suspicious characters?"

"Mrs. Haynes seemed a little suspicious by the end of breakfast," said Kamalia with a wink. "I don't think she believed the 'mum with her son' story, anymore, at least."

"Mrs. Haynes?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, she was the owner of the hotel," explained Savan.

"I see," said Hermione. "Well, I suppose we'll be looking through these memories, off and on, for weeks. Did you learn anything else of use that might not be obvious from them?"

"We both love featherbeds," said Kamalia, adding a smirk to her wink.

"I think I'd better leave so Kamalia can get the gossiping out of her system," said Savan with a resigned sigh. "Could you tell me how to get back to my dorm so I can change clothes?"

"Sure," said Hermione. "Could you come here, please, Flower?" she spoke to the air.

"What is Mistress Hermione being needing?" asked Flower a moment later.

"Please take Savan back to his dorm room, Flower," requested Hermione.

"Yes, Mistress," said Flower, raising her hand to Savan.

"I didn't think elves could transport humans," said Savan.

"Of course they can," said Hermione. "Where'd you get the idea they couldn't?"

Savan looked meaningfully at Kamalia, who looked away with a guilty grin. He smiled when he understood her deceit was meant to force them to seek lodging as opposed to come back to Hogwarts for the night. Without further comment, he held out his hand to the elf, but Kamalia interrupted.

"Be a dear," said Kamalia to Flower, "and bring back that white, cloth bag next to my bed when you're finished with Savan. Millie said she'd put it under the night stand."

"Yes, Mistress Kamalia," said Flower.

"I thought you were going to share those," stated Savan.

"Hermione's here," answered Kamalia, with a nod towards the younger witch.

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Savan, smiling. He give Kamalia a quick kiss goodnight and took Flower's hand.

Kamalia watched the location, now Savanless, where her 'husband' had stood a moment earlier. After ten seconds, she sighed once more and turned her attention to Hermione. "I haven't felt like this in decades," she said, giddily. "Maybe not ever." The smile returned to her lips as her eyes closed to replay some of the best parts of the day in her memory. Flower popped back and delivered the chocolates.

"Thanks," said Kamalia, looking through the smaller bags inside the large one. She pulled out the malted milk balls and offered some to Hermione.

"I take it Savan finally noticed how much he cares for you?" asked Hermione, taking one of the treats and beginning the gossiping, as Savan had put it. She had seen the similarities with her and Harry's pre-marriage situation, although the age difference was much more substantial.

"Oh, yes," said Kamalia. "And I, him. We've known each other for years, of course, and always enjoyed each other's company. With two whole days together, our feelings had plenty of time to work themselves out." She popped a ball into her mouth, signifying it was Hermione's turn to talk.

"So when did you abandon the original cover story?" asked Hermione, leaning in.

"Midnight," said Kamalia, after a moment to finish her first treat. "I talked him into letting me pretend to be his wife today, instead of his mum. I waited until midnight and just scootched on over. He never noticed."

"I'll bet he did," said Hermione, grinning. "I don't doubt he never complained, though." Both women giggled.

"Not that I heard," agreed Kamalia. "Oh, it was so wonderful, today; not that it was all fun and no work. We took those walks around the areas you asked. Never saw anything that looked like a hide-out, though. Of course you told us the actual buildings were unplottable or had the Fidelius. Maybe both. Still, the surrounding areas should be done in detail."

"That's what we were looking for," said Hermione. "The memories of Voldemort's men were good enough for the actual manors, inside and out. We wanted to get the lay of the land and that's what you provided."

"I hope you're pleased with them," said Kamalia. "I don't know if it's on purpose or not, but the towns nearest each of these manors, as you put it, were all quite nice."

"It might have been the company you kept," suggested Hermione. "I get the same feeling with Harry, sometimes."

"Could be," agreed Kamalia, tentatively. "We had a wonderful time. Didn't get out of bed until almost ten." She smiled devilishly as she took another treat.

They spent the next half hour chatting happily about the day spent walking and talking and shopping and eating. Although the condition given to transfer their cover story back to son and mother were met numerous times, they maintained that deception. Finally, after watching the sun set over Sherwood Forest, of all places, they had returned.

"So," asked Hermione, summing up, "I take it you two decided to stay together?" She thought the answer was obvious.

Kamalia's mood dropped just a bit. "No," she answered. "We'll be going our separate ways." Hermione was surprised and looked it, so Kamalia added, "He'd stay with me, if I asked. At least I think he would."

Hermione was still confused. She didn't like that condition so she asked for clarification. "Correct me if I'm wrong," she began, "but from the memories I saw of when you were both sitting on the bench in front of the gates to just a while ago when you were all but ripping each other's clothes off, you two have done nothing but indicate you wanted to be with each other."

"Oh, I want to be with him," said Kamalia.

"Then why won't you try to make a go of it?" asked Hermione, bluntly.

"Because I love him," answered Kamalia.

Hermione was more confused than ever. She sat quietly, though, deciding that if Kamalia wanted to explain, she would.

Kamalia was trying to decide just that. Finally, she went with her desire to talk about it. Hermione, although a recent acquaintance, had a sense about her that indicated she would keep their discussion confident. "I don't know if we ever mentioned it to you," she began, "but I was the one who bit Savan in the first place."

"Really?" asked Hermione, before controlling her incredulity. "I can't see that being the problem, though. It seems that he's forgiven you on that point."

"Oh, he has," agreed, Kamalia. "It's part of my reason, though. The other part is that early this morning, before anything else happened, he told me of his greatest dream. I won't repeat it, because it's his dream, but it isn't possible for me to be a part of it. If we stayed together, he might never get what he really wants. I screwed up his life once, when I bit him. I won't do it, again." She took another treat for comfort.

"Perhaps you're reading him wrong," said Hermione. "It was easy to miss, but that kiss you two were sharing might have been a hint that he wants to keep you around."

"He does and he doesn't," said Kamalia. "When we finally made love, it was wonderful. Of course that's just my opinion, but he must have been satisfied since he came back for more."

"Now you're making me jealous," said Hermione.

"I don't believe _that_," retorted Kamalia. "You're both still teenagers, I think. You can't tell me that you don't get enough." She had regained her gossipy smirk, now that the subject had turned to better times.

"Normally, we do," conceded Hermione. "Lately, he's been tired." She could see that Kamalia had realized why Harry was tired and quickly added, "It's not that big a deal. In a month or so, we should have all of the werewolves cured. We have a hundred years to look forward to, so we'll make up for lost time, I'm sure."

"No doubt," said Kamalia. "I had my day with Savan, though, so I'm not complaining." She wasn't complaining, but wasn't too happy, either.

Hermione had a thought. "You said you're day pretending to be his wife started at midnight?"

"That's right," answered Kamalia.

"Then you have a couple of hours left," deduced Hermione. "I happen to have an empty flat. Would you like to stay there, tonight?"

Kamalia, although determined to not impose herself on Savan, wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth.

* * *

November 10th, 1997

In the hospital wing

"It's six o'clock in the morning," said Kamalia.

"I know what time it is," said Savan, sleepily.

"I know," replied Kamalia, "but I just wanted to establish that fact."

The two werewolves had been summoned to the hospital at this ungodly hour so that Harry would have time for a couple of hours of rest before breakfast. His first class was first period, today, so he would need the time to recover.

Harry, for his part, was trying to get a head start on the resting phase. Laying with his feet on the floor but his back on the mattress, Hermione, sitting next to him, gave him a nudge when Madam Pomfrey made her way out of the office, carrying the three jugs of iron replenishing potion on a tray. She set the tray on a table and said, "All right, Savan. It's time." She led the way over to the mats.

Savan stood and prepared to follow, Kamalia at his side, when he said, "Ladies first, I think." He gestured for Kamalia to take the lead.

"You were here first," protested Kamalia. "I'll have my turn soon enough."

"I'm not being chivalrous," he explained. "You're taking a youth potion, if you'll recall. If you're going to be even more beautiful, I want to see you in good light."

Kamalia's smile gave off an almost visible glow as she threw her arms around Savan and began another of her lung collapsing kisses.

"Wake me when they're through," said Harry, falling back onto the bed.

"I'll be right back," said Poppy, conflicting emotions of irritation at having to go back to her office competing with the blowback from the love she felt from the couple. Within a minute, she had returned with the Youth Potion.

"We're shooting for the early to mid thirties," explained Poppy, measuring out some of the potion into a glass. "A full dose would make you a teenager, again, so I'll give you just a bit less." After a bit of back and forth pouring, she was satisfied. She handed the glass to Kamalia and said, "It has a bit of a bitter taste, but be sure to drink it all at once."

Kamalia looked at the glass and said, "Young for a day." She turned to Savan and added, "Pity it'll be a day I'll be knackered. We could have had a lot of fun." She downed the glass in two, quick swallows.

Kamalia felt the effects almost immediately. Light headed and with blurring vision, she instinctively dropped the glass as she placed her hands on her head. Poppy was expecting that, of course and caught the glass before it hit the floor. Within a few seconds, though, Kamalia moved her hands to her breasts; thinking that Savan was caressing them. That wouldn't have been a problem, of course, except for doing it in front of everyone. As it turned out, she was feeling her robes sliding down as her breasts rose up. Her bum was doing the same. Reaching back to feel, she came across her long, soft hair. It was hanging low on her hips, as it had in her youth, and had regained its original texture.

"Oh, Savan," she cried, taking his hands, "I'm young, again. Do you like it?" She spun around so he could see.

Savan could see. "You're bloody hot," he exclaimed, drawing laughter from his forgotten audience. Being jolted back to reality, he said, "Let's hurry up and get you cured. You might be rested up enough in time for us to enjoy it, while it lasts."

"Anything you say, dear," said Kamalia. She now led the way to the mats.

"They're ready," said Hermione, nudging Harry, again.

"Fine," said Harry, getting up. He took three steps before noticing the change in Kamalia, who was currently hanging her cloak over a chair. "Wow!" exclaimed Harry, instinctively ducking as Hermione's hand brushed his hair during her near miss.

"Calm down," chided Kamalia, relishing in the chance to relive the effect she used to have on men. "You can look; but don't touch." She leaned back to whisper to Savan, now standing behind her, "You can do both."

"Stop it," ordered Poppy, grumpily. "I can hardly get Rolly to... well, never mind. Kamalia; hold out your arms. Savan; hold onto her. Harry. Hermione. Take your positions." Everyone moved to follow Poppy's orders.

Harry was trying to wake up enough to effectively fight the lycanthropic cells. He had learned that the quicker he responded; the easier the cure.

Hermione was preparing to clear her mind. The less she tried to actively think about what she was seeing, the easier these cures were to watch.

Kamalia, with the moment mere seconds away, was starting to panic. She was terrified of the pain she had witnessed and began to shake, uncontrollably. Savan sensed this, though, and tightened his grip, as well as leaned into her back. Kissing the back of her neck, he said, "We'll get through this. I'm right here." His assurances were able to calm her and she took three deep breaths before nodding to Poppy.

"Alright," said Poppy. "On three. One. Two. Three." Poppy and Hermione simultaneously cast the spell of transfer with the usual results. Harry grimaced while Kamalia let out a shriek. Both collapsed to the mats, along with Savan, who never released his grip on Kamalia, and the game was on.

For the first several seconds, Harry noticed no difference between any of the other attempts. He had to maintain his focus for his own self-preservation, but he eventually felt that it was becoming different; easier, somehow. He could feel a warmth spread through his body but not because of the blood transfusion. It was more akin to sitting in front of a well-established fire with plenty of glowing embers. The radiant heat penetrates without touching. He didn't know how, but it made things much easier for him.

Kamalia could feel the warmth, as well, but she knew its source after just a few seconds. Savan had been holding onto her tightly, knowing her terror of the expected pain. When she had lurched and fallen, he had come along, comforting her as best he could, but unable to do much else. Her first spastic twitches had caused him to shed a few tears onto the back of her neck. This tangible expression of love and compassion had, along with the saturation of the area of magical power coming from Harry, set up a connection whereby his love could directly intercede on her behalf. Opening up her heart and letting his love protect her, she felt the pain recede until it was overwhelmed by the love.

Harry's powers, of course, were based on love and having an almost unlimited alternate source at hand helped him as much as Kamalia. He instinctively reflected the emotions back into his healing efforts; doubling their effectiveness. The lycanthropic cells never had a chance.

Hermione, although actively seeking to see nothing, had to pay attention when she observed that something special was happening with this cure. She didn't know what, but it was centered on Kamalia. She had stopped her violent thrashing very quickly, and had progressed into a serenity which had lasted until now, when she had begun sporting the beginnings of a smile.

Before the second minute had passed, Harry's eyes opened and he nodded to Poppy. "Are you sure?" asked the nurse. This usually took up to five minutes.

"Yes," slurred out Harry. He was exhausted, but not quite as much as was normal. With a nod to each other, Hermione and Poppy ended the transfusion.

Harry collapsed to the mats, rolling onto his back, but Hermione could tell it was a controlled fall. He was still conscious and smiling. Kamalia, slumped a bit but put her own, newly freed arms over Savan's. She turned her head and kissed him with a smile.

"Drink this at once," ordered Poppy, handing Kamalia the first flask. "Hurry, now." Kamalia did as she was told while Poppy stepped over to talk to Harry.

"What happened?" asked the nurse, checking out Harry with her wand. He was fine so she turned to Kamalia while waiting for her answer.

"No idea," said Harry. "It was a whole lot easier than normal, though."

"I hope you can remember the trick," said Hermione. She looked up at Poppy for confirmation on the success of the cure. Poppy nodded in relief.

"Me, too," said Harry. He grabbed Hermione's hand and she helped him get to his feet. Together, they walked over to sit on a nearby bed.

"Now drink these two," said Poppy, taking the first empty flask from Kamalia's hand and handing her the next.

"Give us a hand, Love," said Kamalia, rising from the floor with the help of Savan. Momentarily, they, too, were sitting on the edge of a bed; Kamalia drinking potion number two.

"I don't understand it," said Poppy, "but you both seem to be in much better shape than you should be. Nevertheless, I want you both to get two hours rest; just to be safe."

"No problem," said Savan. "I didn't get much sleep last night, anyway, for some reason." He glanced meaningfully at Kamalia, who grinned mischievously.

"I meant Kamalia and Harry," corrected the nurse. "I'll bring you a chair so you can sit nearby, if you'd like."

She actually brought two chairs; one for Savan and one for Hermione. Although two hours were ordered, after the first had past, both parties were rested up and wide awake. With a last examination, Poppy released them.

"Let's go back to the flat and change," suggested Kamalia, "so we can enjoy the rest of the potion."

"What's wrong with these clothes?" asked Savan, fingering his cloak.

"We're still wearing them," explained Kamalia, her grin returning.

"Oh," replied Savan, giving her a look of comprehension.

"Just be back here at nine," reminded Hermione. "Then we'll do Savan."

"We'll be here," said the newly cured and now quite beautiful Kamalia, "although we might be a bit tired by then."

"That reminds me," said Hermione, turning to Harry. "Now that you're all rested up and it's only seven o'clock, I have a job for you."

"What is it?" asked Harry, not really wanting to do any work at the moment.

"I'll tell you when we get back into bed," she answered, giving him 'that look'.

When both young couples had left, Poppy put her hands on her hips and said, to herself, "I think it's time I had a talk with Rolly."

* * *

Author's note: For those of you wondering why I'm spending so much time with Kamalia and Savan, the answer is 'I don't know.' I just enjoy them and their situation. On the good news front, their story arch is coming to a close. Only one or two more episodes. Until then, just let me indulge myself.

Dad


	93. Chapter 93

Chapter 93 - Love Finds a Way

November 10th, 1997

"I see Tom has his men writing letters to the editor, now," said Hermione, casually. She had finished the follow-up articles on the plot against Blair and was perusing the 'public outcry' over the treatment of the 'Hero of the Hour'.

"How can you tell," asked Ron. Honey had responded fairly well to the ginger remedy and, although eating lightly, felt well enough to attempt classes. Ron, perhaps in the misguided attempt to share her pregnancy, was currently eating for two.

"A few tell-tale signs," said Hermione. "They're mostly a little too over the top in their praise of Caro. Two of them actually refer to the Dark Lord instead of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and only in regards to the way Caro thwarted Voldemort's brilliant plan. A few very similarly worded demands for a vote of no confidence against Rufus. That sort of thing."

"Does he really think that will do any good?" asked Ginny, turning to that section of the paper, herself.

"Every little bit helps," said Hermione. "Once the seeds are sown, you never know when or where they'll pop up."

"That's right," said Harry. "After he pretended to want to capture those children, Linus asked how Rufus could be out in the sunlight, since he was a vampire. You should have seen some of the bystanders back away. I heard them muttering about hearing that about him somewhere before."

"I've heard that, too," chimed in Luna. "I'm not sure where."

"It was in the Quibbler," said Harry. He realized that he had to phrase his comments a bit more carefully than he normally would. "He might have shown some vampiric characteristics in the past, but I've seen Rufus in the sunlight many times and can assure you, he's no vampire."

"Although I _have_ seen evidence that he likes to suck on _some_ people's necks," smirked Hermione, a little louder than was necessary. Minerva, who had been eavesdropping nearby, from her chair on the professors dais, instinctively put her hand to her neck. Poppy cackled.

"The point is," continued Harry, "um, well, I've forgotten the point."

"The point is," said Hermione, "that any information that's put into print; true or not, will stick with you. It adds to the overall impression of someone so that when something similar happens; again, true or not; you think 'There they go, again.' It's not fair, but it's the way it is."

"I don't think anyone actually believes the Minister is a vampire," said Honey.

"No," agreed Hermione, "but they might think he was punishing Caro for what his son supposedly did. That would give an unfavorable impression."

"I wonder if I should send in a letter," mused Harry. "You know; to show my support."

"Rufus would probably appreciate the gesture," said McGonagall, coming down to join them. The conversation centered around her boyfriend, after all. "I'm not so sure it would be a good idea in general, though."

"True enough," said Hermione. "Almost anything you said could be twisted around." She saw Harry slump down a bit and added, "If you really want to say something on behalf of Rufus, I'd be more than happy to help you write a letter."

"Thanks," said Harry. "He's just gone out of his way for me, so much. I don't want to turn my back on him, if I can do something to help."

"That's very kind of you," said Minerva. "Speaking of going out of his way, he mentioned last night that he has an appointment with the Prime Minister, today. The main purpose is to discuss security, of course, but he also intends to take the opportunity to arrange a visit to the place where you found that _thing_." She put her finger to her temple, as if that would help Harry understand.

"The bell tower in Westminster," whispered Hermione, softly and directly into Harry's ear.

"Oh, there," said Harry. "Yeah. I suppose we'd better start trying to figure out how to get that." He was quick enough to leave it at that. He picked up a handful of bacon and set it on his plate.

"You know," said Ginny, "that's pretty annoying."

"Not you, too," whined Harry. "Everybody does it. It's easier than using the tongs."

"Not that," retorted Ginny, "although now that you mention it... I meant this cloak and dagger talking in codes and whispers."

"We can't talk about it openly," explained Hermione.

"I know that," said Ginny. "I didn't say you could. I just said it was annoying; hearing bits and pieces like that. That's all."

"Someday," said Ron, "you'll be able to tell you grandchildren how you sat next to Harry and Hermione while they were discussing the fall of Voldemort. Whether or not you heard or understood what was said won't have to be mentioned."

"Fine," said Ginny. "So I'll stop being annoyed in fifty years?"

"Sooner than that, I hope," said Harry. "Hermione, no doubt, will be writing the definitive book about our part in this war. You can just read all about it."

"She probably will," agreed Ginny. "I suppose I'd better start treating her nicer."

"I plan on editing out the snide comments and snappy retorts," said Hermione, "although that won't leave you with much. Maybe Neville will do something spectacular and you can be his loyal girlfriend."

Neville struck a heroic pose, showing his profile. Ginny examined him thoughtfully, for a bit. "What else do you have?" she asked.

"Hey!" exclaimed Neville to the numerous outbursts of chuckles.

"I'm just teasing," said Ginny, giving him a kiss on the lips. "You've done enough to earn a chapter of your own. You've fought Death Eaters three times, for goodness sake."

"That's right," agreed Harry. He then looked thoughtful for a bit. Finally, he asked, "Three times?"

"At the Ministry," said Hermione, "at Hogwarts and at your funeral."

"Oh," said Harry. "I forgot about at Hogwarts."

"You forgot about that battle?" asked Ginny. "A half dozen Death Eaters invade..."

"I meant I didn't think of it just now," amended Harry. "I remember the battle." He huffed and grabbed a roll; sliding it around the bottom of the nearly empty butter dish.

"Something wrong with the butter knife?" asked Hermione.

"It has crumbs all over it," answered Harry, taking a bite.

"So?" asked Hermione.

"I didn't want crumbs in my butter," said Harry. "The bowl was almost empty, anyway."

"How do crumbs on the butter affect the taste of a buttered roll?" asked Hermione.

"Time for class," said Honey, forcefully, if a bit prematurely. She was feeling a bit better than yesterday but didn't need to hear the bickering.

"I suppose it is," said Ron, rising up and hovering just behind her. Honey carefully climbed on.

"You need a bigger carpet," stated Ginny, gathering her things.

"Why?" asked Ron. "It's big enough for the two of us."

"That's the problem," said Ginny. "Luna and I have Transfiguration first period. We could ride with you."

"I think we could handle one more," offered Ron.

"So who will it be, big brother?" asked Ginny. She smiled with simulated sincerity at the youngest of her older brothers.

"Who do you think, Honey?" asked Ron.

"Oh, that's easy," said Honey. "Climb on, Luna."

"What do you mean, 'that's easy'?" asked Ginny, her hands on her hips.

"It'd be a novelty for _her_," said Honey. "This might be the only time she'll ever be called on the carpet."

Ginny groaned, but Harry, a connoisseur of such things, applauded, saying, "A pun _and _an insult. Well done, Honey."

"Thank you," said Honey. Then, a bit more apologetically, she said, "I really only come up with that sort of joke when I'm not feeling the best. I think it's just sick humor."

"I'm leaving, now," said Ginny, grabbing her book bag.

"I'll see you in class," said Luna, flinging her bag over her shoulder and clambering aboard behind Ron; toboggan style. Honey was up front, as usual.

"Try not to smile too much, Ron," said Hermione.

"No promises," said Ron, rising to take off. He was sporting a major grin; sandwiched, as he was, between two very good-looking women. Luna had taken the unconventional position of kneeling in back, as opposed to straddling Ron, so that she could see better, but she remained secure with a bear hug around his chest.

"I suppose we'd better head to class, too," said Harry, grabbing his own bag. Without further comment, they left for Charms.

* * *

Just after lunch, in the office of the Fortress of Solitude.

Remus Lupin materialized next to the master board of transport icons. He lowered his ring hand, which had been placed next to the appropriate symbol in Grimmauld Place just a few moments earlier. "Harry," he said, happily, "glad you're here. I've got good news." He walked over to take his chair.

"The BBC's decided to bring back Doctor Who?" asked Harry, excitedly. He set down the scroll detailing the murders committed by or ordered by Voldemort during the first half of nineteen-sixty-eight.

"The who's bringing back what?" asked Remus, confused.

"Not 'The Who'," corrected Harry. "The BBC."

"What?" asked Remus, who had moved from confusion to befuddlement.

"It's a tv show," said Harry, "about a time lord called The Doctor."

"Doctor Who," said Remus, catching on just a tiny bit.

"No," said Harry, "just The Doctor. I don't know why they called it Doctor Who?"

"That's not it," said Remus, abandoning the previous conversation.

"That's not what?", asked Harry, forgetting where the conversation had started.

"The good news," said Remus.

"Oh," said Harry. "What's the good news?"

"We've found a way around the new Death Eater Dark Marks," stated Remus. "It's a bit of a roundabout method, but it's effective. Versatile, too."

"Tell me about it," said Harry. He had been feeling a bit guilty about spending so much effort on the werewolves while letting his true quest sit idle.

"Well," said Remus, "as you know, the new mark transmits using a secondary point to disguise its true location. We've found that you can narrow it down to a single person when you're within fifteen feet of them. That, in itself, wouldn't be of much use, of course. Now, the way we can get around that is by remembering that the mark still has to receive orders to return to Voldemort, wherever he is. I'm afraid you still have to have the new Dark Mark, or Mark II, as we've decided to call it, to be able to use the homing beam. What we _can_ do, however, is trick the Mark II into responding to a false signal from this little toy." At this point, he pulled a small device out of his pocket. Setting it on the table, a dial and a few buttons became apparent.

"What does it do?" asked Harry, picking it up and examining it closer.

"When the Death Eater get's what he or she thinks is a summons to Voldemort, they tap their heart with their wand. Normally, the wand would receive and activate a portkey-type spell that is sent with the summons. In actual fact, it will channel whatever spell was sent. This little box can send any low-level spell that you want; provided that you have set it up with a supply of them in its internal stored spell array. They don't need to be full power since the wand will automatically get most of the magic from the host Death Eater. It currently needs servicing after it uses ten of them but we're working on upping that number."

Harry wasn't getting less confused. "So, what happens," he asked, "and when does it happen?"

Remus smiled. "A Death Eater walks by," he explained, "and this device detects him, if he gets close enough. It then sends out a signal with the spell you want along for the ride. The Death Eater, being a loyal minion, pulls his wand. The spell is run through the wand as if the Death Eater cast it. Originally, we thought a locator charm would be most useful, since they could easily be encoded to work with Martha's maps. Fred and George, though, have done some tests and found that curses and jinxes also work. You could have them turn themselves green, for instance, or talk in limericks or hop on one foot or just about anything else."

Harry was more intrigued. "How much do they cost?" he asked.

"This one cost about four thousand galleons," said Remus, "but that was mostly due to replacing bits of it when it didn't work right. We think production models would cost around seven hundred for the materials. One trained person could construct about three in a day, I think, and then it takes an hour or so to enchant them."

"So about a thousand, each?" offered Harry.

"Probably not that much," countered Remus. "Maybe nine hundred. How many do you want for a test run?"

Harry considered this. "A fifteen foot range?" he asked. "That's not very far. I think we'll start with ten, or so. Take a couple of the maps with you. I'd suggest one of the Diagon Alley ones. Have them adjusted to receive that locator spell you mentioned. We'll place these things in a cluster so anyone walking by will be detected. If it works out well, we'll buy some more."

Remus had been jotting this all down and finished writing the last requirement. "I think I'd feel better making a new map. I wouldn't want part of Diagon Alley without any monitoring at all."

"That's fine," said Harry. "Do you think you could have everything ready to go by this weekend?"

"It's Monday," stated Remus, unnecessarily. "I suppose there shouldn't be a problem." Standing, he put the note and prototype into a pocket of his robes and prepared to leave.

"I'll start on these this afternoon," he added, touching his pocket. "Tonks and I have a late lunch planned back in London."

"I wondered where she was," confessed Harry.

"She was still listed as Dudley's representative," explained Remus. "Apparently, someone's hired a pair of solicitors from the private sector to take over."

"A _pair_ of solicitors? Excellent," said Harry. "That means I won't have to make another midnight visit to see my aunt."

"Apparently not," agreed Remus, smiling. "I take it that your uncle's plan worked?"

"No," said Harry. "She was too mean to be scared of a ghost. She did respond well to falling like a ton of bricks, though." He paused a second before laughing.

"What's so funny?" asked Remus.

"It occurred to me that that phrase would just be an expression with most people," explained Harry.

Remus smiled and asked, "I take it there's a family resemblance with her brother?"

"Her mustache is thinner," said Harry.

With an understanding nod, Remus departed.

* * *

Four o'clock that afternoon, in the home of Mort and Parricida Caro.

"Saturday?" asked Parry Caro. "I'm not sure that's such a good time." She fidgeted with her wedding ring; a nervous habit she'd picked up during the last few months.

"It isn't your decision to make or advise," stated the silkily slimy voice of Severus Snape. "You are being informed of the Dark Lord's timetable. You remember your part, I believe?" He viewed the smallish woman with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, yes," she said, shortly. "About that. I'm not so sure I want to do this, anymore. In fact, I..."

"You have two choices," said Snape, interrupting her. "Three; actually. You can do as you've agreed. You can wait for the Dark Lord to bring you, your husband and your daughter before him and watch the two of them die before you. You can choose to have me kill you now. Perhaps that choice would spare your daughter; at least from immediate death. She's nine, I believe, and certain of my associates would find her..."

"Ellie's ten," corrected Parry, shocked. "No. You wouldn't... you can't..."

"I would and I will," said Snape, coldly. "Now, let's dispense with this foolishness. You've made your choice and your best option is to see it through. Only your husband will die, but only if you don't fail the Dark Lord. Do you understand?"

Parry didn't move, desperately trying to think of a way out of the mess she'd gotten herself into.

"Do you understand?" asked Snape, a second time. His voice had taken on sufficient menace to convey to her that he wouldn't ask again.

"Yes," she said, hollowly. She had no choice. She couldn't save Mort. She couldn't save herself. She could, however, save her daughter and only living child.

"Very well," said Snape. "This Saturday at dusk." He rose to leave. Parry remained seated. Snape walked over to the floo and, raising his hand to point at the foolish woman, he warned, "Don't fail us." Without another word, he flung in the floo powder and was gone in a flame of green.

* * *

Six-fifteen that evening, in the Headmistress' private dining room.

"Water!" gasped Harry, knocking over the salt shaker in his haste to grab the nearby pitcher. Not having time to wait for the glass that Hermione was offering him, he downed three quick gulps from the container he had in hand.

"Harry!" snapped Hermione. She wasn't exactly surprised that he had done it, but she was still embarrassed. Although they were dining with friends, those friends included the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Minister of Magic.

"What's the matter, Harry?" asked Rufus. "To tangy for you?" He bit heartily into his second prawn. He had dipped it deeply into the whisky cream in the ramekin dish before him.

"My tonsils have melted," said Harry, eliciting an uncontrolled laugh from Ron. He had eaten this dish before and knew enough to take it in small bites.

"That's strange," said Honey, nibbling a bit on a prawn. "Mine doesn't have that effect."

"I made yours without the whiskey," explained Minerva. "You're expecting, after all."

"Oh," said Honey, relieved. "Thank you, Minerva. That was very thoughtful of you to take the trouble."

"No trouble at all," said Minerva. She had officially invited the Potters and Weasleys to dinner so that they could discuss Rufus' meeting with the Prime Minister. Unofficially, she wanted to showcase her cooking ability to Rufus.

"Exactly how much whisky goes into one of these," asked Harry, his taste buds finally coming out of hiding.

"Technically," said Minerva, "you're supposed to use two tablespoons of whisky with about a half cup of double cream. I might have reversed that, though."

Rufus laughed and said, "Now that's the sign of a good cook. When in doubt; add whiskey."

They moved on to the cullen skink; a rich soup featuring beef shin. The main course was steak "Auld Reekie", named after old Edinburgh which was often coated in the smoke and fog of numerous coal fires. This dish also contained whiskey, but it mostly cooked off. Following the steaks, they worked on a potato and cabbage dish with the unusual name of rumbledethumps. Dessert consisted of Strathbogie Mist; a light and airy dessert based on pears and ginger wine.

"You'd better snap her up while you can," said Hermione. "There are still three unmarried Weasley men. Once word gets out about Minerva's cooking, they'll be beating a path to her door."

"I might have to do that," said Rufus. He looked at Minerva who had an interested look in her eye, but remained silent. After a few moments longer, with everyone apparently waiting for him to say something, he said, with a hint of exasperation, "Well, I'm not going to ask her this minute, with everyone here."

"We could wait in her office," offered Honey, trying to be helpful.

"Sure," agreed Harry, rising. "Just give a call when you're finished." He waited for Hermione, who remained seated.

"I doubt that will be necessary," stated Minerva, deciding to redirect the conversation. "Perhaps we should move to the parlor." She started to lead the way.

"It's up to you," said Harry, "but don't wait too long. Remember what happened to Ron and Honey."

"I believe that pump has run dry," said Rufus, following Minerva.

"Not for lack of priming, I'll bet," muttered Ron. Minerva chose not to hear, but Harry and Rufus both laughed.

* * *

When they had taken their seats, Rufus opened the official subject of the evening. "I spoke to the PM, today. He's a strange sort. He talks forcefully and with conviction, but the longer he talks, the less convinced you are that he has a clue. That's probably a bit overstated, I guess, but he _is_ a politician, after all, and tended to try to appear to understand before actually understanding. I think he finally caught on to the gravity of the threats against him and is more at ease with the extra security. It was a little harder explaining to him the need for access to the bell tower at Westminster. I couldn't trust him with much, as far as our reasons go, and he just came into office recently, so we don't have much of a track record as far as him taking my word that it's important."

"Does he understand that it's a secret?" asked Hermione.

"He'd better," replied Rufus, with a hint of exasperation. "He kept trying to give me names of various people to contact to arrange meetings and tours. That's the politician coming through, again; delegate as much as possible. I _think_ I was finally able to convey to him that the fewest possible people needed to know about this and that it also had to seem as normal as can be managed. We agreed to let Kingsley do any official contacts that might be necessary since he is on the payroll and wouldn't be too obvious. Once the proper people are found, they would be brought by Kingsley directly to the PM for their specific orders."

"So you've convinced him to let Kingsley do everything and he'll still think he's in charge?" asked Ron.

"Exactly," said Rufus. "I tell you; that bloke couldn't dip a quill into some ink without five people having to know about it. I spoke with Kingsley. He'll update the PM on the status of the project frequently enough for him to know his lines when the other muggles are brought to him."

"We'll need at least two visits, I guess," guessed Harry. "Hermione'll have to have a look at the clockworks. It looked pretty complicated to me. We need to figure out how to make a new pendulum. Then, we'll need to figure out how to have it keep the proper time while we exchange them."

"Exactly," agreed Hermione. "Once we sort that all out, we'll need to make all the preparations for the second trip; the one where we make the actual switch."

"Well," said Rufus, "from what I've learned, it isn't open to the general public. Members of Parliament are able to arrange tours, from time to time, so that might work as a cover story. We'd need a real expert, though."

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Ron. "The clock is over a hundred years old. _Somebody_ must do work on it, now and then."

"Of course they would," said Hermione. "That's a good point. If we could get the person in charge of maintenance, they'd probably have the answers to all of our questions."

"They might even have a spare pendulum, for all we know," said Rufus. "I'll have Kingsley start his search there."

"I don't want to jinx us," said Harry, "but it sounds like we should have a decent chance of retrieving the pendulum without too much trouble."

Indeed, the once daunting task of retrieving such an indispensable part of a continuously monitored national treasure did seem to be in reach; mainly due to the inclusion of Rufus and his many connections. With that part of the agenda concluded for the time being, they moved on to the less pressing, but surprisingly more difficult task of teaching Harry, Honey and Hermione the intricacies of three-deck pinochle. The elder couple were old hands at it while Ron's family had played it for generations. The most surprising aspect was the person having the most difficulty.

"Who thought up this stupid game?" asked Hermione, her frustration starting to wear her down. "Every other card game in the world ranks the cards ace, king, queen, jack, ten. This crazy game puts the ten between the ace and king and I can't see why. Not to mention there's forty of every card." She picked up her next raft of cards.

"That's not that hard to adjust to," said Harry. "It's this crazy queen of spades and jack of diamonds. They aren't worth that much, they don't take many tricks, but the game is named after them."

"I think the hardest part of the game is holding onto the cards," said Honey. Even leaving out the nines, they all had twenty cards to start.

"I bid eighty-one," said Ron, indicating to Honey that he had sixty points of meld and would fold the next hand if she bid. Like a lot of experienced players, his family had shifted the decimal point over to make the numbers easier to deal with.

"Eighty-two," intoned Minerva, indicating to Rufus that she had a hand that could take the lead if he bid her some meld.

"Um, that sounds good. Can I bid eighty-two, too?" asked Harry, indicating that he had no clue as to what he was doing and that Hermione should try to lose her competitive aspirations during this game.

"No!" snapped three voices at once. "Just say eighty-four and hope Hermione can pull your butt out of the fire," finished Ron.

"Alright," agreed Harry. "Eighty-four."

Honey looked at her cards. She had thirteen clubs with a run and top-heavy extras. All of the face cards were mouthing 'say eighty-five' to her. She only had one heart, though, and that worried her. "I'd better pass, I guess," she said, causing her cards to fall into despair.

"Ninety-four," said Rufus. He had a full set of double aces and was ready for anything.

Hermione's hand reminded her of nothing so much as a daycare center. She had almost nothing but queens and jacks. True to form, she had three queens of diamonds and four jacks of spades. Since an inverted triple pinochle was worth nothing, this only added to her frustration. She did have double jacks, though, and tried to bid them to Harry. "Ninety-nine," she said.

"Pass," said a frustrated Ron.

"I think I'll pass, too," said Minerva. A bid of a hundred meld usually meant double aces. She had a weak run and was otherwise evenly dispersed so any suit would do. She didn't want to take the chance of having half of Rufus' aces lost to other aces.

"We can pass?" asked Harry. "I'd better do that. It sounds like Hermione has a good hand." Hermione figured she had the answer to her original question. Pinochle was invented by marriage counselors.

* * *

Nine o'clock that night; in the hospital wing.

"Here they come," said Hermione, hearing the clicking of Kamalia's high heel boots.

"They're late," said Harry, looking at his watch. "Well, they aren't early, at least. It's just now nine."

"Oh," said Kamalia, picking up the pace, "they're waiting for us."

"That's your fault," retorted Savan, also speeding up. "You and your 'just one more time.' Not that I'm complaining, mind you." They were both laughing as they reached Poppy and the Potters.

"It seems the two of you enjoyed your day, together," opined Hermione.

"We certainly did," said Savan. "We had lunch in Hogsmeade. Then a bit of shopping."

"Window shopping, mostly," added Kamalia. "After that, an enjoyable walk around the lake." She smirked before adding, "There were a lot of nice, secluded spots for breaks."

"Wasn't it a bit cold for that?" asked Harry.

"We had our wands," said Savan.

"Savan's wand was quite busy, today," offered Kamalia, slyly. "It kept me pretty warm, I'll have to admit."

"Oh, knock it off," snapped Poppy. "Savan; over here. Little Miss Crumpet; stand behind him." She indicated they should take their positions on the mats.

"What's gotten into Poppy?" asked Harry, whispering to Hermione.

"Not Professor Triffle," replied Hermione, also whispering.

"Let's go," said Kamalia, hurriedly. "With any luck, Savan'll be feeling better before the potion wears off."

At this, the other two women in the room looked closely at Kamalia. Misinterpreting their surprise, she said, "We haven't been making a secret of it. I mean, we're both past the age of consent."

"That's not what we're surprised about," said Hermione. "It's ..." She wanted to phrase this delicately.

"You're still young," said Poppy, without hesitation. "That potion is good for six hours, at best. You took it this morning at about six o'clock or so. That's..." She had to think.

"Fifteen hours," completed Hermione, showing no indication that she might be a long lost twin of the nurse.

"Maybe it's wearing off slowly," suggested Savan. "Kamalia's always looked pretty good."

"Men," harrumphed Poppy. "As long as the boobs are big and fairly close to their original location, you're beautiful."

"We're not all like that," said Harry, defending the male half of mankind. At Hermione's look, he added, "Well, _I am_, of course. And Ron, I suppose. Probably Rufus. I just meant that most men; well, some men, might not be quite so..."

"Give it up," said Hermione. "After the fifth qualifier, you're not exactly helping your cause, anymore."

"The point is," said Poppy, "Kamalia is still thirty or so years younger than she was yesterday."

"You make it sound like a bad thing," said Kamalia. "Personally, it can last forever, as far as I'm concerned."

"It might," said Harry. He seemed to understand what had happened.

This was such a rare occurrence that Hermione had to respond. "What do you think happened?"

"This morning," replied Harry. "Do you remember how easy it was to cure Kamalia? I didn't mention it at the time because it was sort of personal, but Kamalia was pretty much terrified. It only got worse when we started the transfusion. Almost immediately, though, I could feel love pouring into her. It calmed her down; but more importantly, it increased my effectiveness."

"I felt it, too," said Kamalia. "Savan kissed me on the back of my neck and it just felt _so_ good. I felt all warm and fuzzy."

"This is embarrassing," said Savan. He looked very uncomfortable.

"I'll bet it is," said Hermione. "Why, who would have guessed that you and Kamalia were madly in love. It's just _such_ a shock."

"He means all this talk about being in love," explained Kamalia. "We've _made_ love about a dozen times in the past two days, but he's yet to tell me he loves me."

"You said I didn't have to," replied Savan.

"_A dozen times_?" asked Harry and Poppy, simultaneously.

"Well, yes," said Kamalia, brushing back her long, silky hair while leaning back, showcasing her newly self-supporting 34Cs. "I suppose if you're properly motivated, it's not a problem."

"I guess not," exclaimed Harry, a bit too excitedly.

"Let's get back on topic," said Hermione, moments after catching herself self-consciously looking down. "Do you think that the combination of the transfusion with Harry's blood, the youth potion and the addition of an excess of love from Savan made Kamalia permanently young?"

"Not permanently," said Harry. "I don't think it'll mean she'll live forever, or anything. She might just start from where she is now, though."

Kamalia and Savan both looked at each other. "You're serious," said Kamalia, catching on that her greatest dream might have come true, but not quite ready to allow herself to believe it.

"The possibility exists," said Poppy. "Perhaps it would be best to leave the topic for now and just cure Savan. If your condition doesn't change in a day or so, we'll look into the long term possibilities." She wasn't ready to make a definitive statement. The others could guess if they wished but she was the professional. She knew that any hope expressed by her would be taken much more seriously. She didn't want them to go to bed giddy with delight only to have Kamalia wake up an old; make that not quite as young woman, again.

"I like that idea," said Harry. "I don't want to sound like a whiner, but I have to get up in time to do this again in the morning."

"Alright," said Hermione. "Let's get this show on the road. Grampa needs to get to bed."

They assumed their proper positions. Kamalia held onto Savan just as he had done for her that morning. She kissed him on the back of the neck and tried her best to think of just how much she loved him. So much was she concentrating on this thought that she was surprised when they initiated the transfusion. Down to the mats they fell; Harry grimacing while Savan thrashed about in agony. Kamalia held on tightly, telling him over and over just how much she loved him. Unlike her, however, his pain didn't fade. His veins bulged from the effort to fight the unbelievable pain as his body convulsed spasmodically. More than once, Kamalia was either thrown free by the violent movements or knocked away when her head hit Savan's. She always came back, though; trying her best to help him as he had helped her. Her tears fell freer than his had and her desperation was more intense, but it wasn't enough, it seemed. Minute after minute passed, in all fairness, pretty much the same as it had for the previous nine werewolves. Eventually; as they knew it must, the thrashing and pain receded into just a memory.

Poppy and Hermione severed the connections and Savan fell back onto Kamalia. Harry, more used to this than anyone, panted heavily on his knees while he waited for sufficient time to pass for some strength to return to his body.

Poppy brought over the flasks and said, "Give me a hand, Hermione." Together, the two witches attempted to pull Savan off of the top of Kamalia. "Let go of him," ordered Hermione. Kamalia, still in a panic, didn't hear or understand.

Poppy gave a quick slap to Kamalia's hand. This roused her to the point where Poppy could say, "Let go. We need for him to sit up." This time Kamalia understood and released Savan. As Hermione and Poppy pulled him up, Kamalia helped by pushing.

"Now drink this straight away," instructed the nurse to Savan. Weak with fatigue, Savan couldn't competently hold onto the potion so Hermione assisted him. After they finished it off, Savan regained enough energy to start the second.

"I don't believe it!" shouted Kamalia, a surge of adrenaline forcing her to her feet. "I don't bloody believe it!" She ran out of the ward, crying uncontrollably.

Hermione, busy tending to Savan, caught Harry's eye and gestured with her head that he should run after her to see what the problem was.

"You're bloody out of your mind," said Harry. He then fell backwards onto his mat; totally exhausted.

Hermione took the empty second flask while Poppy handed Savan the third. "Hurry and drink that," ordered Hermione. "Maybe you can still catch her."

Savan paused for a moment. He looked up at Hermione and said, "Harry's right."

* * *

After a further ten minutes had passed, Poppy and Hermione had Savan tucked into one of the beds where he promptly fell asleep. Harry had also recovered enough to attempt to return to the Head's Suite.

"Winky," said Hermione in her summoning voice.

"What is Mistress being needing Winky to be doing?" asked Winky.

"Take Harry back to our bedroom," requested Hermione.

"You'd bloody well better not kiss me this time, either," ordered Harry.

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky. "Yes, Master." She reached up and took Harry's hand.

After they had left, Hermione went in search of Kamalia. She checked down the hallway leading to the hospital wing. She checked the flat she had lent them. She checked the dormitories. She eventually went down to the map room and asked the elves to help her.

After a few minutes, Stepper pointed to a spot on an external map and said, "Miss Kamalia Lingley is being by the lake, Mistress Hermione."

Hermione took a look. She knew the lake, as well as the paths around it. That was a particularly brambly and desolate part of the shoreline. "Take me to her," she ordered, holding out her hand.

"Yes, Mistress," replied Stepper. "We is being needing to be returning to Hogwarts before we is being able to be being popping, Mistress."

"Oh," said Hermione, "that's right." She walked over to the icon board with Stepper and, using her ring for the both of them, she popped them back to her suite.

"Just a moment," she said to Stepper. She walked into the bedroom and saw that Harry was still awake.

"I have to step outside for a moment," she told him, taking the time to grab her traveling cloak. After a moment, she took Harry's, as well.

"Kamalia?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Hermione, sitting on the edge of the bed by her husband. "She's down by the lake. Something's really shaken her up about curing Savan."

"I noticed," said Harry. "I wanted to leap to my feet and go sprinting af..."

"Shut up," said Hermione, giving him a kiss. "I shouldn't be long." She stood and took Stepper's hand. A moment later and they were gone.

* * *

The dark made it difficult to see, despite the nearly full moon. The stiff breeze wasn't helping much, either, as Hermione quickly put on her cloak. Looking around, she called, "Kamalia!" into the wind. She didn't hear an answer but Stepper was with her.

"Miss Kamalia is being here, Mistress," said the elf, pointing to the far side of a nicely flat boulder; perfect for sitting on warmer days.

It wasn't a warm day and Kamalia wasn't sitting on the boulder. Instead, she was sitting on the ground, leaning against it; using its size to shield her from the wind. Her face was particularly chilled due to its dampness from her tears. She was still crying but had added a sniffle.

"Kamalia," exclaimed Hermione, coming around the rock and sitting next to her; pulling Harry's cloak over her in the process.

"Let me be!" shouted Kamalia, bitterly. "I want to be alone!" She pushed back Harry's cloak just as a particularly misty gust sprayed them both from the foaming surface of the lake. This dash of reality caused her to instinctively pull the cloak back to its original position. "I suppose the cloak can stay," she added, snuggling in further.

Hermione smiled; knowing that the panic; whatever its cause; had passed. Scooting closer to Kamalia, she drew her own cloak tighter about her neck. "Care to tell me why we're here?" she asked.

Kamalia didn't speak, but spent a few seconds composing herself before deciding what to do or say. At last, she said, "I don't want to talk about it. It should be obvious, anyway." She took a moment to pull Harry's cloak around her to wear it properly.

Hermione thought about the last several minutes. It was all good news, really. Kamalia had stayed young. She and her lover had both been cured of lycanthropy. She loved him. He loved her. They were able to be a real couple if they so chose. Where was the down side? "I'm afraid it isn't quite as clear as you think," said Hermione. "Could you give me a clue?"

Kamalia turned to her and shrieked, "He loves me!" with such venom in her voice that her tone and words were impossible to reconcile. "He loves me so much that I'll stay young. He loves me so much that I didn't feel hardly anything when Harry cured me. He loves me... so much more than I love him."

Hermione was surprised by the last comment. Kamalia worshiped the ground that Savan walked on. It was plain for anyone to see. So what was she talking about? "What are you talking about?" Hermione had learned the power of the direct approach from her husband.

"I just_ told _you," answered Kamalia. "Savan's love for me made everything better. My love for him didn't help anything. He deserves someone worthy of that kind of love." She slumped back under the cloak; convinced that she wasn't that person.

"Kamalia," said Hermione. "I want you to listen to me. I want you to hear what I have to say because I understand exactly where you're coming from."

Kamalia laughed. "I've read the papers," she said. "You and Harry are both totally committed to each other. Your love is legendary."

"Kamalia," said Hermione, "I love Harry with every breath I take and every beat of my heart. I hope to bear his children as well as his puns. When he faces Vol... You-Know-Who, I'll be at his side and we'll live or die together. But I knew when I married him that I'll never have as much love for him as he has for me."

Kamalia was shocked. "What do you mean? After what you just said..."

Hermione hesitated. "This is a secret. Promise me you'll keep it to yourself."

Kamalia was distracted from her own problems by the unusual direction this conversation had taken. "I promise," she said, finally.

"Harry," began Hermione, "gets his power from love. His love for me; for his friends; for all mankind, I guess. He uses that love to amplify his own abilities. When I was captured and taken to Riddle Manor; that's You-Know-Who's main fortress, I was in a basement with over two dozen Death Eaters. Maybe a hundred more were on the grounds. It had anti-apparition wards and who knows what else protecting it. It would have taken an army to save me. Harry..." She had to pause to compose herself, marveling even now at her rescue.

"Harry saved you," finished Kamalia. "He saved you and two or three other women. He killed the Death Eaters that were with you. I remember."

"I remember, too," said Hermione. "The point is that it was his love for me that made that possible."

"You'd do the same for him," stated Kamalia, smiling. "Don't say you wouldn't."

"I'd try," said Hermione. "The difference is I'd fail. I know I would. Would that make me unworthy of Harry?" This was the point she had been striving for.

"Of course not," said Kamalia. "All you can do is give it your best shot."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "You have your answer. All you can do is love Savan as much as you can. If he loves you more, so what? Love him as I've loved Harry and you'll both be happy for the rest of your lives."

Kamalia thought about what Hermione had said. "How'd you get so smart?" she asked.

"Practice," answered Hermione. They both laughed. Hermione stood up with Kamalia following suit.

Kamalia said, "We'd better get back. There's someone in the hospital that loves me."

* * *

Author's Note: My wife and I are celebrating our anniversary in a couple of weeks. She wanted a happy ending for Savan and Kamalia. I was planning on leaving it as star-crossed love but she does the cooking.

...and they lived happily ever after.


	94. Chapter 94

Chapter 94 - Ice Cream

November 11th, 1997

Ten o'clock in the morning in the gymnasium/auditorium of Westminster Primary School No. 14.

Jack Dawlish watched in disbelieving silence as the kindergarten class performed Der Ring Des Nibelungen. He hadn't recognized it at first; being an abridged version and all of the actor/dancers being just five or six years old; but once he had figured out what they were trying to do, he was able to keep up. Das Rheingold was over within the first five minutes but had lacked the exuberance necessary to pull it off. By the time Die Walküre had started, he could recognize the sweeping majesty of the Wagnerian counter melodies giving the semi-impressionistic flight scene the underpinnings to pull the audience into the very heart of the mythical masterpiece. Of course, it lost something when performed by a kazoo orchestra. The fact that the lines were all given randomly, and somewhat inaudibly, didn't help much, either. He looked across the large chamber to see his partner, Kingsley Shacklebolt, at his position near the other major entrance. He didn't seem to appreciate the performance as much as Jack. The same couldn't be said of the elder member of the trio that had come to watch the play.

Sitting on a folding chair in the middle of a small group of other parents and grandparents, Rufus watched with undimmed joy as Greta and her classmates were dancing first one way, then the other as harried teachers and their assistants stopped them when they reached the defined edge of the 'stage' and sent them back in the correct direction. The actual play was 'The Bunny with Pink Ears', but as the bunny's mother had severely overestimated her sewing ability, it had hastily been altered to 'The Perils of Mad Cow Disease'.

None of this mattered to Rufus, of course. His enchanted smile never wavered for a moment. He applauded whenever Greta did anything that looked planned or rehearsed. He cheered when she didn't fall down after a pirouette. He berated himself for forgetting to bring a bouquet of roses to hand her; the obvious star of the show, when it ended.

"Did you like it, Grampa?" asked Greta, running to him when released from the bowing line by her teacher.

"Did I?" confirmed Rufus, excitedly. "Did I?" He then teased her by putting his hand to his chin and looking confused as he added, "Did I?" as more of a question. Greta was used to this and smiled broadly as her grampa did the same, picking her up. "I think such a fine performance deserves a treat." Again, he affected a thoughtful look. "But what?" he asked, as if to himself, but with a sideways glance at Greta.

"Ice cream," said Greta, unhesitantly. "Ice cream for lunch."

"Ice cream for lunch," repeated Rufus. Increasing his smile, he said, "Why not? Ice cream it shall be."

"Did you hear that?" squealed a young girl standing nearby. "We're having ice cream for lunch!"

Cheers erupted from the floor as word spread like wildfire. "What flavors?" "I like stwawberry!" "I want nuts on mine!" "It might be in cones." "Can we eat all we want?" "I want a fudgesicle!" "Is it lunchtime, yet?" "Can I have butterscotch syrup on mine?" "Are we going to the shop or are they bringing it here?" The mere mention of the frozen dessert had caused such a burst of adrenaline in the youngsters that one had to wonder what the actual addition of said ice cream might cause.

"Now children," began an overeducated spoilsport, "of course we can't have ice cream for lunch." Trying to distract them with a learning moment, she asked, "Who can tell me why that would be bad for our teeth?"

A chorus of 'Boo!'s rang out as the children; intuitively more aware than the Head Teacher that having ice cream for lunch _for one day _wouldn't do anyone any harm; expressed their disapproval.

"Perhaps we could have a small serving of fat-free sherbert for dessert," offered the woman. The villagers began looking around for pitchforks and torches.

"Perhaps I can help," said Rufus, stepping forward. "I'm afraid this is my doing, anyway."

"You won't be getting an argument from me, Mr. Grundle," replied Mrs. Tilton, miffed at having the dozen children within reach trying to get her attention; presumably to attempt to persuade her to see reason.

"With your permission, I'll arrange for the ice cream," offered Rufus. "When should it be here?"

With a second wave of hopeful shouts cascading around the gymnasium, Mrs. Tilton gave in to the inevitable. "I'd say about a quarter past twelve," she replied, resignedly.

"Done," said Rufus, smiling. "Jack!" he called, walking off to the side so they could talk in relative privacy.

Dawlish made his way through the throngs, as did the unsummoned Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I think if we lay down a barrage of stunners," said Jack, "we can get you out of here with a minimum of broken bones."

"Very funny," said Rufus. "Look; I need enough ice cream to satisfy this lot by a quarter past twelve. I saw some activity in Fortescue's old place a while back. Is it open, yet?"

"Yes," said Shacklebolt, "but they turned it into a coffee shop."

"Bloody hell," moaned Rufus. "Where else can I get that much ice cream?"

"Don't the muggles have trucks that drive around, selling ice cream treats out the back?" asked Jack.

"Sure," answered Rufus. "Unfortunately, they put them away after the temperature drops below freezing."

"That's odd," said Kingsley. "You'd think it would be easier to keep everything frozen when it was colder." Rufus and Jack just looked at him. After a moment, he said, quite unconvincingly, "Just kidding."

Rufus looked at his watch. "Let's step outside," he said. "Ian and Henry are on duty today, right?"

"Right," said Kingsley, "as well as Doug and Paul, as long as you're here."

"Better yet," said Rufus, pushing open the door. As they walked down the steps, Jack signaled for the other members of the security detail to come over.

* * *

Meanwhile, from the park across the street.

"Here he comes," said Wendall Wood as Rufus and his friends came out of the school. "He's with Dawlish and Shacklebolt."

Zac Hoover wrote down this information, as well as the time. They had the duty of trailing the Minister of Magic and noting where he went; who he met; etc., and supplying this information in a daily report. It was one of those 'just in case' jobs that were useful, but hardly exciting. That was about to change.

"Hold on," added Wendall, sitting up a bit straighter and refocusing his omnioculars. "The other guards are breaking cover and rushing over. There're three; no, four more of them. The Minister's giving them some orders. Pointing every which way. Dawlish is talking now. He's also pointing in a couple of directions. Something's up. Pop on back to headquarters and get a few more men. We might need them."

"Back in a minute," said Zac. He stepped behind some bushes and apparated off.

* * *

Rufus, along with Paul O'Nestie as his minimal bodyguard, headed back to his house to get his Gringotts key. This unexpected expedition for ice cream would make him forgo some of the usual preparations for his afternoon meetings, but that couldn't be helped now. Actually, it could. Jack and Kingsley could have handled everything while he tended to his more pressing concerns as Minister of Magic. They'd never let him hear the end of it, though. No; it was best if he at least participated in fixing the mess that he'd created. He also knew, with years of similar experiences, that long after the urgent meetings with important people were forgotten, he'd remember how he, along with half of the Ministry (embellishments were to be expected, after all) had ransacked Greater London for ice cream treats. He smiled at the thought as he and Paul finally reached, and entered, his house.

* * *

"Get the parchment," ordered Jerry Burns. He had come with the small contingent of Death Eaters summoned to get to the bottom of this sudden flurry of activity. A mad dash had occurred upon arrival in the small park where Zac and Wendall had been stationed. They didn't have time for details. Most of the aurors had already dispersed but, inexplicably, they hadn't apparated. They just wandered off into muggle London; most of them looking about like tourists. They quickly divided into teams and raced after the individual members of this mysterious group. Jerry and Howard O'Neil had drawn the Minister.

"He's walking fast, for him," reported Howard. "There're two or three aurors inside, but he's passing them all by. O'Nestie's waiting near the front door."

Jerry looked over his shoulder. "Who's he talking to?" he asked.

"Bloke named Padley," replied Howard. "Both of'em are younger aurors. Probably passing the time of day." He looked at the far side of the map. "Minister's stopped. No one's with him." He waited a few seconds before stating, "Is he just standing there, or what?"

* * *

A few seconds later, Rufus zipped up his pants. He had taken the opportunity to use his own bathroom. More comfortable and a few ounces lighter, he stepped briskly over to his night stand, retrieved his Gringotts key and headed out the bedroom door. Thinking quickly, he said, "Loxley," without stopping.

"What is Master being needing," asked the elf, quickly matching Rufus' somewhat unmatched stride.

"Meet me at the main floo with a sandwich," commanded Rufus. "Whatever you can make in a minute or less."

"Yes, Master," replied Loxley and popped off.

One flight of stairs and forty seconds later, Rufus reached down and picked up his ham sandwich from Loxley who was waiting for him next to Paul. "Thanks," said Rufus, taking the sandwich. "Let's go," he said to Paul before throwing in some floo powder and saying "The Leaky Cauldron."

* * *

"Bloody hell," said Howard. "They both disappeared. Do you think they apparated?"

"Flooed, more likely," responded Jerry. "Can't apparate in the Minister's house."

"Probably went to the Ministry," suggested Howard. "Let's see if we can pick them up there." With a nod from Howard, both men apparated to their secure location near the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

Rufus stepped out of the floo, followed shortly by Paul and took a bite from his sandwich. "Hello, Tom," he said to the barman.

"Good morning, Minister," replied Tom. "Morning, Paul. Get you lads something to drink?"

"Not... well, maybe a quick one," decided Rufus. "I'm in a bit of a rush, but I'm having an early lunch." He sat at the bar; Paul taking the stool next to him.

Tom poured Rufus his usual. "Anything for you, Paul?" he asked, pushing the drink to the Minister.

"A butterbeer," said Paul. "Working hours and all." Rufus rolled his eyes before taking another bite from his sandwich.

"Here you go," said Tom, handing over the opened bottle. "So, where you two off to, almost in a hurry?"

Rufus was still chewing so Paul answered, "No idea. I'm just here for security." Both Rufus and Tom grunted in lieu of laughing. Rufus had come through two decades as an auror with just a limp. He could take care of himself in a fight, if necessary.

Swallowing, Rufus said, "We're searching for vital supplies. There's an ice cream shortage, you see. Greta's school is serving it for lunch, but only if we find enough for everyone."

"Ice cream?" asked Tom. "A little chilly for that, wouldn't you say?"

"Not my decision," said Rufus, flatly. "I'm just carrying out my orders."

"Greta wanted ice cream, eh?" asked Tom.

"You've got the picture," affirmed Rufus. He took another bite.

"Fine way to use taxpayer money," stated Tom, half kidding.

Rufus waved his hand while he tried to finish his current mouthful. When he could speak, he said, "I'm paying for the ice cream. You're just paying for my regular salary."

Tom considered this. "I guess you aren't getting into as much trouble as normal, this way," he conceded. At Rufus' nod, he went back to cleaning his bar glasses.

* * *

After Rufus finished his sandwich and both men finished their drinks, the pair headed off to Gringotts. In their distracted hurry, they didn't notice two cloaked wizards cross the alley and follow at a discrete distance. _Those_ two men, oddly enough, also weren't aware that they, too, had shadows. These particular shadows had the advantage of being invisible.

"These two wizards is being following Minister Scrimgeour," said Windy. "Maybe we is being taking them now, before they is being hurting the Minister."

"If they is being pulling their wands," replied Pounder, "then we is stopping them." He paused a moment, and said, "Jumper is being saying to just be being following bad wizards. Jumper is being checking on what to be being doing next." With a mutual understanding of their orders, they followed the Death Eaters down Diagon Alley.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts; halfway through Transfiguration

"...so whatever else you do, don't pull your wand tip down during the spiral." Honey had been working on the N.E.W.T. standard transfiguration of turning kittens into giant spiders.

"Why on earth would anyone ever want to do this, anyway?" muttered Harry. He was currently playing with his 'volunteer'. The little puff ball was responding particularly well to the rubber mouse he had conjured.

"No idea," answered Hermione. She had originally planned to bring Crookshanks when she was told they would be practicing feline transfigurations but changed her mind when the specifics were discussed. Unlike Harry, she wasn't playing, or otherwise bonding with her kitten. She felt there was a fifty-fifty chance of her squashing it flat the moment she had performed the transformation and didn't want any more guilt than was necessary.

"Well," said Harry, "if nobody gives me _some_ sort of an incentive, I might have to take the _Ron_ route." Ron had skived off this lesson. Despite being married to the professor, he felt he'd rather lose the points during his finals than actually increase the number of filthy, giant spiders in his vicinity.

"Rarroulf!" came a sound from the table next door that was suddenly cut off. Hermione was closest and instinctively looked over. She wished she hadn't. Anthony Goldstein had, as forewarned by Honey, slightly dipped his wand at the very end of his spiral. His cute, cuddly kitten had been turned inside-out.

"Oh my God," said Hermione, covering her eyes. That was, as it turned out, the mildest reaction. The situation wasn't improved by the fact that four students had managed to complete the transfiguration properly, but were distracted by the mishap. Consequentially, four large octipeds were now scurrying around the floor. The screams were becoming quite annoying.

Honey, rightly not wishing to have them escape into the castle, flicked her wand, shutting and locking the door. Several students, not particularly wanting to be locked in a room with a herd of rampaging spiders, rushed over and began pulling and pounding on it in near panic. Actually, the 'near' wasn't accurate.

"Stand still," ordered Honey. "You might step on one of them."

"We're trying to step on all of them," grunted Mandy Brocklehurst. She gave an uninspired kick in the direction of the nearest spider. Still having the disposition of kittens, they were as frantic as the students and scurried around excitedly.

"Calm down," shouted Honey, her Weasley temper starting to kick in. "They aren't dangerous. Just gather them up and we'll continue with the lesson.

That advice worked about as well as you'd expect. Hermione had controlled her initial fear of the horrid beasts and tried an immobilizing spell on the nearest creature. She levitated it to a table other than her own as Harry, caught up in the spirit of those seeking to escape, shouted, "Stand back!" while pulling his wand.

When Harry Potter pulls his wand, people take notice. The door was abandoned as those nearby quickly retreated to places of relative safety. Fortunately for the door, as well as anyone unlucky enough to happen to be passing on the other side, Hermione had noticed the shift of concerns of the students.

"Petrificus Totalus," she muttered nearly silently. The beam struck Harry in mid cast and was followed almost immediately by an "Accio Harry's wand."

The witnesses were astounded by the fact that Harry Potter could have been so easily overcome by his wife. Their faith was restored, however, when he broke free of her spell a second later and, raising his hand silently, had his wand return to him. Hermione, not surprised by either of her husband's latest actions, took a moment to restrain two of the three remaining spiders.

"I wasn't going to blast it," complained Harry. "I was going to use that other spell. The one that unlocks doors." He wasn't a convincing liar under the best of circumstances. With Hermione, he had no chance.

"Alohomora?" she asked, smirking. "You'd never have used that spell when a Reducto would serve as well."

"Prove it, copper," said Harry, mocking her with a phrase from one of her favorite crime movies.

"Stand back," said Hermione, "is not generally a necessary warning before merely unlocking a door. You were also a good twelve feet away in a defensive stance. QED. That door would have been splinters in a matter of seconds."

"I think," said Honey, levitating the last of the former kittens onto a convenient chair, "that we should continue." She walked over to the disgusting blob quivering on Anthony Goldstein's table and with a practiced flick, indicating that she'd done this before, restored the kitten to its former form.

With the help of a suggestion by Hermione; intended for Harry but spoken loud enough for the entire class to hear, they resumed the lesson. One student performed the transfiguration while the other cast an Impedimenta charm. This slowed down the spiders to the point that they could be controlled.

"Excellent," said Honey, examining each of the creatures in turn. "Now the spell to return them to their original shape is the same as it would be to change a real spider into a kitten. The wand movement, however, is quite different. Allow me to demonstrate." She stepped over to Goldstein's spider; humanely reasoning that it deserved to be the first one back to normal. In mid wave, however, she was distracted.

"Pop!" Jumper had entered the room.

"Sssreecheow!" said the... _thing_... on the table before Honey. The kitten/spider had transformed into something alien, although eerily cuddly. A round, fur covered body had a proper kitten head on top, but instead of the usual four legs, there were only cat tails. Yes, tails; as in plural. Eight of them, in fact. All were writhing about randomly, but with the kitten face instead of the spider one, it looked quite cute.

"What an adorable little, er... monster," exclaimed Mandy, disjointedly. She reached out to pet it. Susan Bones and the rest of the non-Hermione females, including Honey, followed suit.

"It'd be the perfect pet," opined Hannah Abbott. "You could hold it whenever you wanted because it would just lie there."

"Kittens do that automatically when they become cats," said Hermione. Turning her attention, along with Harry, to the newest arrival, she ushered them both to a corner.

"What's up, Jumper?" she asked, quietly.

"There is maybe being trouble with Minister Rufus," explained Jumper. "Windy and Pounder is being watching two Death Eaters being following the Minister and another wizard."

"Where are they?" asked Harry.

"All four wizards is being on Diagon Alley," answered Jumper.

"How were these Death Eaters detected?" asked Hermione.

"They is being seen by Windy and Pounder but are not being on the map, Mistress," answered Jumper.

"So they're at least competent," concluded Harry.

"Who are the Death Eaters?" asked Hermione.

"The Death Eaters is being named Lon Chad and Norman McEachern," replied Jumper.

"Sounds familiar," said Hermione. "I think they've been around for a while but haven't done anything spectacular."

"Does it seem as if Rufus knows they're there?" asked Harry.

There was a pause, before Jumper said, "Pounder is being thinking that Minister Rufus is not knowing of the Death Eaters."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione shrugged so Harry asked, "Are Pounder and Windy following the Death Eaters?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered Jumper. "They is being protecting Minister Rufus and his friend if they is being needing to."

Harry made his decision. "Jumper. Tell Pounder and Windy that we'll be there in a few moments."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper.

"So we're off to London, then?" asked Hermione.

Harry summoned his invisibility cloak before replying, "No. Jumper and I will go. We'll both fit under the cloak."

Hermione wanted to protest, but Harry had a point. They weren't eleven anymore. "Do you have your portable map on you?" she asked.

"Uh, no," admitted Harry. "I think it's on the shelf under my night stand."

"Just a second," said Hermione, walking back over to her bag. She pulled out her map and was about to take it to Harry when she noticed that the pet fest had not diminished.

"Professor," she intoned, strongly, "don't you think you should continue with class?"

Honey, who had been swept away as quickly as the other girls, snapped out of her mental lapse. "Oh, sure," she said. She looked at the 'spiten' with a slightly bewildered face before smiling and saying, "Perhaps you'd like to demonstrate the method to return this kitten to normal."

'Nice save,' thought Hermione. "Just a second," agreed Hermione. "Harry has to pop off to London for a bit. Death Eater trouble." She said it as if Harry's acne was acting up.

"Oh," said Honey, startled. "I hope it isn't serious." Most 'Death Eater trouble' was, after all.

"There's only two of them," said Harry, nonchalantly. He looked at his watch. "I'm not sure if I'll be back by the end of class, though."

"I'll bring your bag to Potions," said Hermione, giving him a kiss. "Don't do anything stupid." The rest of the class, although quite aware, these days, of the general activities engaged in by Harry, had nevertheless been shocked at the last few comments. Hermione's flippant remark snapped them out of it.

"You're taking away his strong suit," quipped Seamus. The class chuckled while Hermione looked irritated.

"I never listen to that advice, anyway," said Harry. With a wave designed to forestall another retort from his wife, he flipped the cloak around himself and, unnoticed by the rest of the class; Jumper. With a pop, they were gone.

* * *

"I've no idea how much muggle money I'll need," said Rufus; half to himself and half to the goblin behind the counter.

"One galleon is worth two pounds," offered the goblin, helpfully.

"Hmm," pondered Rufus. "But how many servings is that?"

"Servings?" asked the cashier.

"Yes," answered Rufus. "If a gallon costs two pounds, and I need about a hundred servings, then I'd have to know how many servings are in a gallon to know how many galleons I need. Of course I'd need that in pounds. Or did you mean that a gallon _weighs_ two pounds?"

The banker didn't have his abacus handy and had lost track about half way through. "Perhaps the young wizard isn't quite as confused," he suggested.

"I'm not _confused_," snapped Rufus. "I'm just not sure about the price of ice cream or how much I should buy."

"I understand," replied the goblin, gently. Leaning towards Paul, he whispered, "Does your, ah, grandfather have this trouble often?"

Paul also leaned in and whispered back, "He hasn't been sleeping well, lately." The goblin nodded understandingly, while Paul turned away, sniggering.

"What?" asked Rufus, looking disgruntled with the both of them.

"Nothing," answered Paul, unable to turn around at the moment.

"Just give me five hundred pounds," said Rufus, slamming his key on the counter.

"Yes, sir," said the cashier, taking the key. He glanced at Paul, who nodded approvingly, before heading off.

* * *

"Here he comes," said Norman, observing Rufus and Paul coming down the steps of Gringotts. He and Lon were pretending to be window shopping in front of Gladrags Wizardwear.

"He doesn't look too happy, does he?" observed Lon. Rufus sported a fairly sincere frown.

"Nope," agreed Norman. He tapped Lon on the shoulder after Rufus had turned towards the Ministry. The two of them followed about twenty yards behind.

* * *

"Let's go," whispered Harry to Jumper. They were both invisible, of course, and they stepped out into the alley. Windy and Pounder, each under invisibility cloaks, as well, followed. Harry quickly rediscovered just how difficult it is to A; walk in a crowd while invisible and B; walk under an invisibility cloak with another person.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. There were only five people within twenty feet of them but they all seemed to be sucked into some sort of a weird gravitational vortex where they just had to suddenly, randomly and without prior indication, head their way. After the third time that he almost tripped over Jumper while trying to avoid collisions with the passers by, he picked up the elf and scurried off to a nearby storefront overhang post that was, hopefully, out of everyone's way.

* * *

"There he is," said Jerry, nudging Howard. They had been trying to pick up Rufus on their map near the Ministry but hadn't had any luck. Now they knew why.

"Wonder what he needed at Gringotts?" wondered Howard. He and Jerry slipped back into the shadows near the owlry to allow Rufus and Paul to pass by.

"We'll have to..." began Jerry but stopped. So had Rufus. "What's he doing now?" he asked, pointing at Rufus.

* * *

"Where am I going?" asked Rufus, rhetorically. He had stopped in the middle of the alley. If Paul were Kingsley or Jack, he most certainly would have uttered some comment about how the Gingrotts cashier had been right about his mental balance. As he was a very junior member of the Minister's guard, he let it go with a smirk.

"We're supposed to meet the others back at..." began Rufus. He stopped when he caught site of someone pointing at him. He didn't immediately recognize the face but it did look familiar. He looked closer.

* * *

"He's spotted us," muttered Howard. He and Jerry instinctively pulled their wands. Rufus reached for his own.

* * *

"Blimey," said Lon, surprised. "He's pulled his wand." He did the same.

"Look," ordered Norman, pointing. "It's Jerry and what's his name." They could see their fellow Death Eaters preparing for battle and decided they'd better follow suit.

* * *

"Drop'em!" shouted Harry, throwing off his cloak and pulling away from Jumper. He fired a stunner at the pair in front of him. Unfortunately, he should have aimed at one or the other. The warning cry didn't help matters, either. Lon and Norman both turned to look, thereby stepping apart as the spell passed between them and struck an unfortunate Rufus just as he turned after also hearing Harry's shout. Talk about going down hard.

Harry was momentarily shocked at what he'd just done. The elves, though, had their orders. Norman and Lon had soon joined Rufus in slumber land. That fact, along with the miraculous appearance of Harry Potter went unnoticed by Jerry and Howard. Jerry had opened up with an Avada Kedavra that barely missed Paul which Howard had followed with a Blasting Charm that didn't. Paul had managed to start a Protego but was only partially through when the spell hit. He was thrown back, his wand and right hand in pieces.

By now, of course, the shoppers had started screaming. With attacks coming from at least two different directions, no one knew quite which way to go. Through the normal shouts of surprise and fear, Harry heard the distinctive cries of a man in great pain. He headed towards where Rufus had fallen and saw Paul, holding his arm in agony.

"Oh, my God," said Harry, thinking he'd caused the damage. "What have I done?" He ran to Paul's side and knelt down, intending to heal him as quickly as possible. Before he could do anything, though, both he and Paul were shoved roughly down the hard cobblestones by an elvish Banishing Charm. An explosion erupted where they had been, a mere moment earlier.

"There is being two more Death Eaters," shouted Jumper. He couldn't get a clear shot, yet, due to the frantic running and stumbling of the now quite panicked innocent bystanders. The potential loss of civilian lives hadn't stopped the Death Eaters, though, and only Jumper's quick thinking had saved Harry and Paul.

Harry jumped to his feet, casting a generic Protego while he checked around. It was a good thing he did since a fierce Severing Charm dissipated against it in a hail of sparks. Harry let his instincts guide him and apparated to the far side of the remaining duo. With a pair of clean shots, he flattened them without further trouble.

Scanning the area, he saw a wizard hiding behind a barrel of apples with his wand pulled. Harry almost stunned him without thinking before he saw a small boy next to the man. The wizard was obviously terrified and raised both his wand and other hand when Harry had pointed his wand at him. Harry realized he was just a man defending his son and finished his scan of the alley. Satisfied, he returned to Paul and Rufus.

"Jumper," he ordered, "I want some more elves here, immediately. Bring maps. I want everyone within a half mile of here checked." Secrecy would have to take a back seat to safety, today.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper.

"And get these Death Eaters into some cells," ordered Harry as Jumper walked off to organize everything. The distinctive pops of the first elves to arrive began within a few seconds.

Harry then returned his attention to Paul. "Lie still," he said, pointlessly. If you have your hand blown off, you can't lie still, no matter how much you may wish to. Harry cast a pain reduction charm. He then cast it twice more before Paul could control himself.

"I'm sorry about this," said Harry. "Your hand's mostly gone. I'm going to remove what's left and replace it. Try to hold as still as possible."

Paul pulled up his stump and looked at it in shock. "What... what happened?" he asked confused.

"We'll figure that out in a bit," said Harry. "This'll only take a minute." He pointed his wand, waiting for permission to continue. "Are you ready?"

That's a hard question to answer. Paul looked at his missing hand. That's also hard to do. Finally, with basically no choice in the first place, he nodded.

Harry worked fast. A crowd was gathering, after all. After severing the wrist cleanly just past the last bit of visible damage, he summoned a hand and attached it. After it had been adjusted to match the other in color and texture, he began another apology.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I've no idea how your hand was injured."

"It was a Blasting Charm by one of those blokes," said Paul. "I wasn't able to get a decent shield up in time."

"Thank goodness," sighed Harry before thinking. At Paul's shocked and confused look, he added, "I thought I did it when I stunned Rufus." He looked at the Minister, still lying a few feet away.

"You stunned the Minister?" asked Paul.

"I wasn't aiming at him," said Harry. "There were two other Death Eaters over there." He pointed to where Norman and Lon had been standing. Smiling back at Rufus, he said, "I suppose I'd better Enervate him."

* * *

Rufus gazed up into the late Autumn sky. It was partly sunny but could easily move into the partly cloudy category with just a bit more work. His head ached and he didn't know why. Did he fall? Then he remembered. Sitting up, suddenly, he exclaimed, "What time is it? Ow." Holding his head with both hands, he slowly lowered himself back down onto the cold cobblestones.

"How are you feeling, Rufus?" asked Harry. He knew how he felt but didn't have any of the pain relieving potion they usually gave their captured Death Eaters. He cast a pair of pain relieving charms, just as he had done for Paul.

"Oh, that's better," said Rufus. He rubbed his eyes. He then repeated, "What time is it?"

This seemed to be pretty important to him so Harry answered, "It's just past eleven."

"Oh, my God," said Rufus, trying to stand. "I've got to buy some ice cream."

"Ice cream?" muttered about a dozen people within earshot. Harry was one of them. It was a cool day, after all.

"Yes," said Rufus, accepting Harry's hand to help him finally get to his feet. "I need..." He was interrupted as several wizards came running down the alley from the Ministry.

"One side. One side, please." Mort Caro was leading the way as he was the ranking auror in the vicinity when word came of an attack at Diagon Alley. Only three other aurors were at hand but he led them out to see what had happened. He made his way to the largest cluster of people.

"Rufus!" he shouted, recognizing the Minister's hair from behind. "Excuse me, please," he said as he worked his way through the crowd.

"Mort?" asked Rufus, turning around. He was still dazed and confused.

"Minister," replied Mort, relieved that Rufus appeared unhurt. He noticed the blood that seemed to cover everything in the area; particularly Paul. There were also bone fragments and bits of Paul's hand. "Is anyone hurt?" he asked, anxiously.

Rufus looked around, as well, and also noticed the blood; not a little bit on his own clothing. Patting himself to check for undetected injuries, he said, "I don't know. We were walking down the street and something happened. I just woke up."

"We should get you someplace more secure," suggested Harry. He looked around. "Perhaps the Ministry."

"I don't have time," said Rufus with a bit of agitation. "I have to get some ice cream."

'What's with the ice cream?' wondered Harry to himself. "We'll bring you some," he offered, concerned for the well-being of his friend.

"I don't want ice cream," snapped Rufus. A stunned group of onlookers silently parted to allow Harry, and now Mort, to guide the Minister to someplace where he could, with luck, collect himself.

"Find out what happened," Mort quietly ordered one of the men he had brought with him. "I'll come back soon or send someone else." He looked back with concern at his boss. "Let's go sit down for a minute, Rufus," he suggested, taking the Minister's right elbow.

"The elves know everything," whispered Harry to the same Auror that Mort had just spoken to. He then positioned himself on Rufus' left.

"I'm fine," whispered Rufus, harshly. He didn't resist the intentions but shook off both of his helpers. He started off towards the Ministry under his own power; deciding it might be best, after all, to find a quiet spot to talk. He didn't seem too steady to those that watched him limp off, though. Of course, that was how he always walked.

Jack Dawlish pulled out his auror's badge and ch

* * *

ecked the message. Using a technique very similar to that which Hermione had used with the DA, messages could be sent to any or all aurors by use of a Protean Charm placed on their identification badge. Normally, it was unimportant or referred to other people. This time, however, it caused him to quickly throw away the sample ice cream bar he had bought once he had completed his mission and rush out the door of the shop. As he was deep in muggle London, he had to find a hidden location before apparating to the auror department's secure apparation zone. Once he had arrived, he headed off to the Diagon Alley entrance as ordered.

"Jack's coming," said Kingsley from just outside the entrance foyer, seeing his partner approaching at a jog. He had had better luck and was able to leave his previous location unseen almost immediately.

"...if the pain doesn't stop in an hour or so," finished Harry. He was examining Paul's hand. Despite having been replaced, it was still causing him some discomfort.

"It might just be muscle strain from the explosion," suggested Rufus. "I've had that reaction. When we're done here, go on home and take a pain reliever. If it's still sore by tonight, head over to St. Mungo's."

"Yes, Minister," said Paul; flexing his hand a few times to try to stretch out his muscles.

"What happened?" asked Jack when he arrived, catching his breath. He took a seat next to Rufus.

"We're trying to figure that out, now," said Mort. "Rufus was attacked by four Death Eaters in Diagon Alley. Two teams. Paul was hit by a Blasting Charm and Rufus was stunned."

Jack examined both of them quickly and noticed the blood-soaked clothes. "Four Death Eaters with Rufus and Paul both down; unconscious or severely injured. I guess that's why Potter's here. Otherwise, we'd be discussing this at the morgue. Did you get them all, single handed?" He addressed this question to Harry.

"No," answered Harry. "I took out the two that were attacking Rufus and, um, Paul. Members of my team took out the other two before they could do anything." He blushed and added, "I was also the one who stunned Rufus."

"Why'd you do that?" asked Jack.

"Probably because Minerva and I destroyed him at cards last night," answered Rufus.

"That was part of it," agreed Harry. "Actually, I was trying to stun the first team of Death Eaters. They were the only ones I knew of, you see. Anyway, they both moved apart just as I fired and Rufus happened to be standing about twenty yards directly behind them."

"Lucky me," said Rufus. "Why were they attacking in the first place?" He looked around for anyone with an answer.

"That's a fairly straightforward question," mused Harry. "I can just ask them directly when we interrogate them."

"It was Rufus they attacked," said Mort. "Why shouldn't the Ministry interrogate them?"

"Because they're already at my fortress," said Harry. "It might not be safe to bring them here, anyway. Are your cells warded against apparation and portkeys?"

"Just apparation," answered Rufus. "It's never been a problem, though."

"It will be now," said Harry. "The new Dark Mark doubles as a portkey target, among other things. We're protected from that so they probably should stay where they are, for now."

"Did Hermione figure that out or someone else?" asked Kingsley. He was the only official member of the Order of the Phoenix in attendance and knew about Harry's other research team.

"Someone else," said Harry. "At least the details. We suspected they'd do something like that once they figured out we could track the old marks. Our research department came up with something for the new marks that we hope to have up and running in a few days."

"Any chance of sharing some of your findings?" asked Rufus. He had caught on that Harry and Kingsley were being intentionally vague.

"I'll bring it up at the next meeting of the Inner Circle," promised Harry. "We'll decide then how much to let out." Rufus was, of course, a member of that group.

"Fair enough," replied the Minister, letting the subject drop.

Mort, figuring that at least a few of the others knew a lot more than they were letting on, rightly assumed that his presence could be holding them back. "I'd better check on the investigation," he said. He then added, helpfully, "Anyone I should take along to help?"

"You're fine, Mort," said Rufus. "We don't have time to talk any longer, anyway." He pulled out his money bag. Tossing it to Jack, he said, "You're in charge. See that everything is delivered by ten after twelve. I'm heading home to get some pain relieving potion and to take a quick lie down. I'll head over in time for lunch." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry about that, again, Rufus," said Harry. "In the excitement of the moment, I turned it all the way up."

"I noticed," said Rufus. "No hard feelings, though." He turned to Paul; the only truly injured member of the party. "How's the hand now, Paul?"

"It's been feeling better," answered Paul. "I think I'll be fine by morning."

"That's good," said Rufus. "You can head on home, now, if you like."

"Considering the trouble we've gone through to get it," said Paul, "I think I'd like some ice cream, first."

"What's with the ice cream?" asked Harry, exasperated. "It's bloody forty degrees out."

"Greta wanted some for lunch," said Rufus. "I'm buying for the whole class." Thinking through to the logical conclusion, he asked, "Would you care to join us?"

"I have Potions, now," said Harry, looking at his watch, "so, of course."

* * *

Author's note: I had a different plan for this chapter. It started out the same with Rufus watching Greta. Unfortunately, after I finished that scene, I had no idea what I had intended to do. After three days trying to remember, I just let this episode unfold, uninterrupted, from start to finish. It illustrates what sometimes happens in wars. Neither side really made any mistakes. Neither side was looking for a fight. Circumstances and misinterpretations led to an unnecessary, but unavoidable battle. The unintended consequences, from both sides, might drastically change the overall fight. And all because a six year old girl wanted ice cream.

Dad


	95. Chapter 95

Chapter 95 - Who's Watching the Watchers?

"Of all the cheek," muttered Hermione. Turning to Harry, she wagged her finger and said in her hushed anger, "You are_ not_ giving this note to Professor Triffle." She threw the parchment at him in disgust as he vainly attempted to suppress his laughter. Rufus had, at Harry's request, written him a note asking whomever it may concern that Harry should be excused from any missed classes since he was busy eating ice cream with the Minister of Magic. Of course, he couldn't make it as simple as that. With many a 'Whereas' or 'Be it known's Rufus had managed to use up an entire twelve inches of scroll. It was most likely the addition of the official seal that put her over the top.

Suddenly, the parchment flew up from the floor and straight into the waiting hand of Minerva McGonagall. With a tap from her wand, it unrolled flat in front of her on the table. After reading it thoroughly, she rolled it back up and said, "Professor Triffle. Mr. Potter's absence today is excused." With a nod from Triffle, she added, in a somewhat louder, yet more professorial voice, "Potter. Could you step over here, please?"

Harry rose and took a step towards the Headmistress but stopped as she said, "Not you. The other Potter."

Hermione actually thought she could feel her blood freeze. As the resident 'goody two-shoes', she was unfamiliar with having that particular tone of voice directed at her. With a nudge from the more experienced Harry, she rose and approached McGonagall. "Eek." Swallowing, she said, "Headmistress?"

"Mrs. Potter," began McGonagall, "I'm very concerned about the influence that your child is having on mine. If you can't persuade Harry to act more responsibly, I'm afraid I won't be able to allow him to play with Rufus, anymore." She handed the parchment back to Hermione.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," said Hermione, breathing a bit easier now that she had realized than she wasn't in trouble. "I didn't want to let him go off unsupervised, but we only had the one invisibility cloak available, at the time. Jumper was with him so I thought that would be enough to keep him in line."

"I see," said Minerva. "Why would he need the invisibility cloak to get ice cream?"

"We'd heard that some Death Eaters were following Rufus," answered Hermione, quietly. She signaled for Harry to join her. "Harry's just now returned, you see. I don't know any of the details." She gestured for Harry to continue when he had joined them.

"Am I grounded?" he asked with a smirk.

"We'll see," said both of the witches, simultaneously. "Just explain how you went to prevent a Death Eater attack and ended up with this," finished Hermione, holding up the scroll.

"Should we be discussing this in public?" asked Minerva. She looked around.

"It's going to be in the paper tomorrow, anyway," replied Harry.

"Exactly," said Hermione, who had figured this out after the first two seconds. "Go ahead, Harry."

"Well," began Harry, "we were following the two Death Eaters that Windy and Pounder had noticed." Harry then went on to describe, from his point of view, how the battle had unfolded.

"Was anyone besides the auror injured?" asked Minerva. The ice cream pretext for their discussion was long forgotten as she had come to understand that had Harry and the elves not been there, the events wouldn't have ended so pleasantly.

"Rufus got a headache," said Harry. He then pulled up his right sleeve. "I was scraped on my right elbow when we were ... Now where is that?" His own healing powers had already removed the signs of his trip up the cobblestones. He checked the other sleeve.

"So 'no', then?" interrupted Hermione. If you couldn't find the injury, it didn't count.

"I guess not," agreed Harry. "I thought that after Defense, Ron and I could go up and find out why they picked today to attack Rufus."

"Why can't I join you," asked Hermione.

"You have Runes," explained Harry.

"I could," began Hermione before catching herself. "Well, okay. Just keep the questions simple."

"I'll ask Rufus for his thoughts, as well," said Minerva. "It's my turn to, uh... I mean, I'll be traveling, tonight."

"That's fine," said Harry. "I'll let you know what we find out before you leave. Were you dining with Rufus or just, well, ah..."

"It isn't any easier for me, Potter," said Minerva. "To answer your question, though; yes, I'll be dining with the Minister. I plan on leaving by five-thirty, so try to see me before then."

"Will do," replied Harry as he returned to finish at least some of his lunch.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a large conference room in Riddle Manor.

"We'll have to wait for the Daily Prophet to get any sort of an idea as to what happened in Diagon Alley," said Snape.

"Perhaps," agreed Lord Voldemort. "Or we might obtain an early copy tonight if it seems necessary. With no direct observer of the battle in our ranks, perhaps a suitable eye-witness will be identified, as well." Voldemort was, to the surprise and relief of his men, being quite restrained with his legendary temper. Losing four men on a simple reconnaissance mission would, in the past, have meant the deaths of at least four more while giving the report. Now, he simply sat back in his chair, listening to their somewhat anticlimactic tales.

"I must admit," said Snape, "I'll need a few more clues to figure _this_ out." There were mutters of agreement from around the table.

"The only thing we know for sure," added Wendall Wood, one of the Death Eaters who had observed the genesis of the mystery, "is that ice cream was involved from start to finish. Every one of the aurors went to a muggle ice cream shop. The Minister apparently flooed to the Leaky Cauldron instead of the Ministry. He might have forgotten that Fortescue's place was closed. It's between there and the Ministry."

"We won't know the details until we can interview some of the witnesses ourselves," said Voldemort, "but it isn't an unreasonable guess. Richards. How many of those annoying elves did you see when you attempted your investigation?"

"At least four, Master," replied Simon Richards. "One had a map similar to ours. She would look at the map and then look up at the crowd. She did this over and over; moving around as she did so. We don't show up on them, anymore, if they work like ours, but it felt like I'd be discovered, anyway, if her attention turned my way, so I decided to just slip away."

"Cowardly," said Snape, "but probably the correct move. It sounds like they have discovered that anyone they can see in person but not on their maps is a Death Eater. Inefficient, but usable."

Voldemort sighed. He was starting to think about Plan B more often than not. They had already set circumstances in motion to replace his spies at Hogwarts, though, so he would put that off for a while longer. Making his decision, he said, "Pull all surveillance teams from Diagon Alley and the Minister. Most likely Severus is right and they're being watched, anyway."

"Yes, Master," said Snape.

"Also, contact Fletcher," added Voldemort, deciding to try to gain something from the situation. "Have him try to discover if any further information is available from the Order. Have him use the story that we're confused about how those men were spotted since my Death Eaters are no longer detectable by magical means. That will give him a legitimate opening to discuss the attack without revealing anything that isn't already known."

"An excellent idea, Master," agreed Snape.

Voldemort then had a very clever related thought. "Finally, Severus; see if it's possible to modify one of our maps to show elves. Use Dinky as an example."

"Yes, Master," said Snape. Why hadn't he thought of that? He took out a scrap of parchment to write this all down.

"Don't hurt her," added Voldemort as an afterthought.

"Of course not, Master," agreed Snape. Neither of them wished any harm to befall the best cook they'd ever had.

* * *

Five o'clock that afternoon, in the office of the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Harry appeared alone at the outer door of Minerva's office. Both Hermione and Ron had begged off making this trip. Ron needed to tend to his wife as she was already finding it difficult to stand on her feet all day. Her body was drawing from her reserves to supply the requirements of her rapidly growing child. Ron remembered quite well how she had spared no effort to take care of his needs after he was injured and he intended to see to it that she was able to rest as much a possible during her off hours.

Hermione, on the other hand, wanted to get her assignments finished and checked before their planned trips during the upcoming extended weekend. The full moon was peaking Friday afternoon. This meant that the last werewolf cure would occur Thursday morning. The next would have to wait until Saturday night at the earliest. They had decided to postpone resuming that activity until Sunday morning so that they would have two complete days for checking out possible horcrux locations. They were also going to keep Harry's promise and have a thank-you party for the herd so she wanted to make sure the arrangements for that were complete, as well.

Harry knocked and, after a moment or two, had permission to enter.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Minerva. Despite having supper with the Minister to look forward to, she was snacking on a cookie. Her overnight bag sat at the ready on a nearby chair.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," replied Harry, shutting the door behind him.

"You're alone?" asked McGonagall, a bit surprised.

"Yes," said Harry. "Both Ron and Hermione had other plans." He sat down and helped himself to one of the cookies on Minerva's platter.

"What could be more pressing than discussing a Death Eater attack?" asked Minerva. It was her boyfriend who was the target, after all.

"Just about anything," said Harry, pouring himself a glass of milk."When it comes down to it, the real reason neither Ron nor Hermione joined us tonight was because there was nothing to report. We found out after interviewing them that the Death Eaters were following Rufus because he was always followed. Standard procedure. I guess we should have guessed that. We do the same thing, when we can. Anyway, they sent for extra men today because Rufus and the other aurors were acting suspicious outside of Greta's school. Everyone was followed to see what was up. At Diagon Alley, the first pair to draw their wands did so because they thought that Rufus had recognized them. The second pair; the ones that we were watching, did the same because Rufus drew his. Once I tried to stun them, they all opened fire. There was no plan, motive or goal."

"Just bad luck," finished Minerva, nodding. "I see. Did any of your prisoners mention any of the details of how they were able to follow Rufus? He floos and apparates quite often, I'd expect."

"They had maps similar to ours," said Harry. "That, too, isn't surprising. Wormtail worked for Voldemort for years and he had helped create the original. They have enough range, just enough as it turns out, to monitor anyone in the Ministry. The Minister only has a few locations that he frequents, it seems, so they just try them out when he leaves one place until they pick him up, again." That gave Harry an uncomfortable thought. "I think I'll have Jumper do a few patrols around the Forbidden Forest and the lake. If their maps have the same range as ours, they could be monitoring Hogwarts. They don't show up on our maps, anymore, so we'd never know."

"A fair point," said Minerva. "You mentioned the Forbidden Forest. Perhaps our _friends_, the centaurs, might have made some observations."

"Could be," agreed Harry. "It wouldn't hurt for them to keep a look out for anything unusual, anyway. I know they noticed when those heads were delivered. Maybe I'll go have a talk with them, sometime."

"If you do," said a familiar voice, "just try to remember to act respectful, but confident. They won't do much as just a favor, but if you discuss the possibility of Death Eaters wandering their forest as a mutual problem, they might be more inclined to work with you."

"Even so," added Minerva, "you might have to offer them something that they'd like. Now, it's my understanding that they were interested in Dolores Umbridge. Perhaps you could..."

"Minerva," said Grampa, "I'm surprised at you."

"I'm not," quipped Harry. Minerva laughed.

"Seriously, though," said Grampa, "they're pretty touchy, but not the cold-blooded killers they like to play. When I went to get Dolores after they captured her, it was more of an O. Henry moment than a rescue."

"Who's O'Henry?" asked Harry. Minerva looked inquisitive, as well.

"O. Henry," explained Grampa, "was an author that wrote mostly short stories with some sort of a twist ending. The one I'm referring to is 'The Ransom of Red Chief'. It's about an energetic young boy kidnaped by some men trying to get a few dollars. They weren't killers; just down on their luck. In the end, they paid the boy's parents to take him back since he was driving them crazy."

"So you think the centaurs were happy to be rid of her?" asked Minerva.

"Weren't you?" replied Grampa. Again, both Harry and Minerva laughed.

"You're probably right about them," said Harry. "They were as mad as you can get with Umbridge, believe me. When it came down to it, though, she was still alive several hours later. If they wanted to kill her, they'd have done it by then."

"Exactly," said Grampa.

"I don't know if I'll get the chance before next week," said Harry, "but I'll see if they're up for a chat, soon."

"That will be fine, I'm sure," said Minerva. Standing up, she asked, "Was there anything else that Rufus should know?" She walked around and took her bag.

"Yes," said Harry. "A man with a mustache as bushy as his should eat his ice cream in private." He shuddered at the memory.

"I've spoken to him about trimming that thing," said Minerva. At Harry's inquisitive look, she explained, "I don't like hair going up my nose." With a shudder, she quickly walked over and took a pinch of floo powder. Smiling at Harry, she said, "I'm getting used to it, though." She pointed at the platter of cookies and said, "Be sure to share those." Tossing in the floo powder, she gave her destination and was gone.

Harry picked up the platter. There were only a dozen or so cookies left. Looking at the fireplace, he said, "What was that, Minerva? I didn't quite catch it."

"She said," began Dilys Derwent, a portrait hanging across from Dumbledore. She stopped mid-sentence as Harry whirled around and apparated away.

"Why did he leave?" asked the witch.

"Plausible deniability," explained Grampa with a smile.

* * *

November 12th, 1997

8:00 AM in the Great Hall

"Two more," said Harry, sitting down, "and I'm done for a few days." He said this with the anticipation of a man returning from a long sea voyage, ready to enjoy some well-earned rest. He had had his usual two hour nap after curing the pretty and young Livana Weylyn, this morning, but was still a bit tired from the effort.

"I'm happy for you, Harry," said Hermione. "I really am, but it won't be all that restful. We have a half dozen places to check out as well as spending some time with the herd. Perhaps we should postpone one or two of the trips and schedule some more down time for you." She looked at him with concern for his continued health.

"I'll be fine," he said, beginning to fill his plate. "We don't really push ourselves on these trips, anyway." He thought about it while buttering his toast and added, "At least we don't _have_ to push ourselves. If we resist the urge to join in on the more exuberant activities that might be available at these sites, we'll be fine." Hermione gave him a sharp look; indicating that she had not forgotten about one time in particular.

"I'm afraid I'll need more details," said Ginny. "I've always thought that you just walked around a bit."

"We do," mumbled Harry. Swallowing his waffle, he continued. "The last few places we've gone had some... what's the word? ..._interactive_ characteristics. When we went to the Turf Maze, we tried it out. It took three bloody hours to get through it. I was exhausted by the time we finished."

"No, you weren't," declared Hermione. "At our next stop, you practically dragged me on stage so you could dance with the Buxom Bimbos."

"Buttercross Belles," corrected Harry. "Believe me; I won't be doing anything like that until we're done with the werewolves; two days off or not."

"What will happen to the poor werewolves that you haven't cured yet?" asked Luna. She had picked at her breakfast, just as she'd done since Draco had died, but seemed to be getting a bit more back to normal.

"We've set up some rooms that they can stay in during the change," answered Harry.

"And," added Hermione, "they'll all have access to Wolfsbane Potion. The NEWT classes have been brewing it for a week or so, now."

"You've made some yourself," added Ginny. They had done so during the last two classes.

"That's right," said Luna, frowning. "I wonder why I didn't make the connection."

"I imagine your mind has been taking some side trips, lately," said Hermione. "That's only to be expected."

"I suppose so," said Luna. "I think I need a vacation like you and Harry." She looked up as the first owls arrived.

"Maybe you could join us on one of the Saturday trips," offered Harry. He looked at his usual travel companions for reactions. Hermione nodded while Ron glanced at his wife.

"You know," said Luna, "I think that I'd like that. Thank you." Her paper dropped just in front of her.

"You can have my spot, if you'd like," said Honey, unfolding her own paper. "I haven't been feeling the best, lately."

"I'm glad you said it," said Hermione. "I was thinking the same thing. A couple of days rest would probably do you a world of good." She opened her newspaper and said, "Bloody hell."

"Now what?" asked Harry, looking over her shoulder.

"Oh, nothing," sighed Hermione. "I'm just disappointed in the lack of creativity. The headline's 'Harry Potter Saves the Day'... again. If they'd just think a bit, I'm sure they could come up with something a bit more interesting or informative."

"Your husband captures a dozen Death Eaters and you're concerned about the writing quality of the newspaper story?" asked Ginny. She, along with the rest of the group, had begun to read the article.

"Not to mention saving the life of the Minister of Magic," added Honey.

"There were only four of them," said Hermione, dismissively.

"And I was the one who stunned him in the first place," admitted Harry.

"How were you able to react quickly enough to push his bodyguard out of the way of that Blasting Charm?" asked Neville.

"That was Jumper," corrected Harry. "He..."

"You healed a hand that was blasted apart?" interrupted Honey.

"Not really," said Harry. "I just replaced it."

"It says that Scrimgeour was pretty shaken up and confused," said Luna. "Something about ice cream?"

"He'd been trying to buy enough for Greta's class," said Harry.

"Rufus must have been injured pretty badly," said Honey. "It says he was limping when he left."

"He was limping when he got there," scoffed Hermione.

"Oh," gasped Ginny. "That poor auror, Mr. Caro, was there, too. He came to help the Minister despite everything he's done to him."

"Rufus is his friend," said Ron. "We don't know why that other story was written the way it was."

"It says that as of late last night, no one at the Ministry would answer any questions about who the Death Eaters were or why they chose that moment to attack the Minister," read Luna. "Maybe they took them to some sort of secret location for questioning."

"They didn't," said Harry. Leaning close to Luna, he added, in a whisper, "_We _did. They're up North."

"How did you get there so fast in the first place?" asked Ginny.

"I was already there," said Harry. "Windy and Pounder were following the Death Eaters that were following Rufus. We were notified during Transfiguration."

"That reminds me," said Honey. "I'll need for you to stay after next time so you can demonstrate that lesson."

"But I brought a note," protested Harry. He really didn't want to have to relive any part of that episode.

"That was only good for Potions," said Hermione. "Personally, I think McGonagall's going soft, letting you get away with that."

"You'd think she'd have let me slide on Transfiguration, too," opined Harry. "After all, I left early to protect her boyfriend."

"I'd appreciate it," said McGonagall, without looking up, "if you'd try to come up with another term. Both Rufus and I are a bit old for that particular sort of designation."

"What would you like for us to use?" asked Harry.

"I've got a few suggestions," quipped Poppy, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I'm sure you do," said McGonagall.

"Perhaps 'paramour' would do," suggested Hermione.

"Hmm," thought McGonagall. "I sort of like the sound of that. But what would be suitable when referring to me?"

"I believe the elves have an appropriate name," said Harry. He sat quietly smirking while Minerva worked out what he was getting at. After a few moments, she narrowed her eyes but decided to stop playing and went back to her breakfast, trying her best to ignore Pomona and Poppy's cackles.

"So where are we going?" asked Luna. No one answered at first. When Harry looked up, he noticed that Luna was looking at him.

"Going?" he asked, looking at his watch.. "It's not even eight-thirty, yet."

"She means this Saturday," clarified Hermione. "Well, we were thinking of Windsor Castle in the morning. We may or may not be able to fit in anywhere else. The victory party for the herd is scheduled to start mid-afternoon and will run until dusk, I'd expect."

"Oh, that will be fun," said Luna, perking up. "Draco and I were in Hogsmeade the day they came to visit. Will I be able to talk with them?"

"Sure," said Hermione. "I've got plenty of the potion and I'll cast the neuronic suppression spell on all of us before we leave. It's good for about a week."

"What sort of a cover story should we use?" asked Harry. "Ron'll have to be in his chair, of course. Is Luna his girlfriend?"

"I think I'd prefer sister," said Honey.

"I don't have the hair," replied Luna. She ran her hand through the tresses hanging over the front of her robes. "I suppose I could change the color. I still have some of Draco's dye."

"You don't have to," said Hermione. "I know that Weasleys are known for their red hair, but it's not uncommon for siblings to have different colors."

"Then how will people know that she's my sister?" asked Ron.

"I could loan her one of my sweaters from Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "If you wore yours, too, it'd look like you were related.

"Mum makes sweaters for wives, too," said Ginny. "I'd expect Neville will get one this year, as well."

"Maybe we could forge a birth certificate for Luna," suggested Hermione, her head still deep in the pages of the Daily Prophet.

"I suppose that would work," said Harry. Thinking a bit, he added, "I'm not sure what they look like."

"You'd also have to have a reasonable reason for why she'd have it with her in the first place," added Ron.

"Well obviously," said Hermione, finally looking up, "she'd have it so that when total strangers come up and demand to know the specifics of everyone's relationships, she'd be able to offer documented proof of her answers."

"But why..." began Harry before getting the drift. "So we just go and don't say anything because no one's going to give us a second thought, anyway."

"Finally," huffed Hermione.

"It still might be a good idea to wear the sweater," said Luna.

"Why's that?" asked Ginny.

"It might be chilly," answered Luna.

* * *

Four o'clock that afternoon at the top of the astronomy tower.

"I'd say that we should check a mile from the boundaries, just to be safe." Harry and Jumper were discussing the implementation of Harry's idea about checking for Death Eaters near Hogwarts.

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Jumper. "Jumper is being thinking that the Hogwarts Free Elves should be being doing this under the magic cloaks."

"Naturally," agreed Harry. "Anyone who might be out there could also have one. It's probably less likely than in the past, but I wouldn't want to rule anything out." Harry's side had started out with one invisibility cloak and now had four. Two of those came from Voldemort's side.

"We is being starting after dark," said Jumper. The sun had just set over the hills but it was still fairly early on in the twilight phase.

"I'd say another half hour or so," agreed Harry.

Harry walked past the improvised lookout shelter that housed two of the Hogwarts Free Elves at all times. That structure had gone up shortly after the heads had been tossed over the gates. Currently, Pounder and Flower, who had recently joined after having been emboldened by her dragon flight, were on duty. Like lookouts on a submarine, they slowly circled the 'conning tower' while studying the horizon with their omnioculars. Looking up the mountain, Harry said, "I think I'll join you. I'll put on my cloak and fly two of you up to the top. I might see something myself, but the walk back down will tell the tale." He thought a moment longer and added, "Be sure that whoever draws that duty is dressed warmly, besides the invisibility cloaks."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper.

"I'd like to do the survey around Hogwarts once per night but I think the mountain climbing can be limited to once or twice a week. Once winter gets here, we'll have to work around the weather, of course."

"Of course, Harry Potter," agreed Jumper.

Harry pulled his cloak around himself and said, "I'll fly the two elves up to the top of the mountain in fifteen minutes. You can start the groups circling the castle whenever you think it's safe. I'll meet my passengers back here."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper and the two of them popped off to prepare for the nights activities.

* * *

Four hours later on the western slope of the mountain.

"Jerry Burns," said Festus, tapping the tracking charm with his wand. The needle didn't move as it was already pointing due north. The distance indicator also continued to stay at the extreme end of its scale.

"Peter Preston," intoned Wendall with identical results.

"Pass the basket, Wendall," requested Festus. They had arrived for their shift just an hour earlier but Festus had a taste for the treats that Dinky tended to pack along with their supplies.

"Don't eat it all until I get a chance," replied Wendall, handing over the overladen container.

"Don't worry, don't worry," repeated Festus. He looked through the various bags until he found the peanut butter cookies. Taking one out, he leaned back to enjoy it.

"Only part of this whole bloody assignment that's worth anything," muttered Wendall, jostling the basket before finding the tarts.

"You can say _that_ again," agreed Festus. "What makes the Dark Lord think anyone's around here, anyway?"

"Supposed to have good information on the subject," answered Wendall. "I've heard it comes from a memory of a talk with Potter, himself. Personally, I don't see how it could be true. Every bloody time we've checked for anyone, they come back as being way far up north."

"Maybe they're checking there, too," suggested Festus. "This thing," he tapped the locator charm, "says everyone's up north. Potter, unknowingly, of course, says they're not. I'm starting to think Potter was on to whoever he was talking to and fed him that lie.

Wendall sighed. Picking up his wand, he said, "Goldie Hanson," before tapping the charm. No change, of course.

Festus said, "Peter Pommet," taking his turn.

Wendall continued with Michael Flint.

Festus began the next name when he stopped and looked out the front of their dugout cave. "Seemed like something happened," he said. "Like the moon moved, or something."

Wendall looked out as well. "I'm pretty sure the moon doesn't move quite that quickly. Probably a cloud or some birds or something."

Festus remained alert but didn't here or see anything else. He returned to his duty and said, "Peter Pommet."

"You already did him," said Wendall. "Pick someone new."

"I didn't do Pommet," protested Festus. He thought a moment and said, "You did Peter Preston a few minutes ago. You're probably thinking..."

"I just heard you," disagreed Wendall. He sighed and said, "It doesn't matter. We've got all night." He looked at his watch, automatically.

When he didn't look up, Festus asked, "What's the matter?"

"How long've we been here?" asked Wendall.

"Since six o'clock," answered Festus. He, too, looked at his watch. It was pushing nine-thirty. "What the..."

They both became on edge. "Look around," ordered Wendall. "See if anyone's about. I'll check around in here and see if anything's different." Both men checked their surroundings to the best of their abilities but found nothing out of place. Silently agreeing that they'd better not report this anomaly, they went back to work. There was one clue left behind, or rather not left behind, but it escaped their detection. The basket prepared by Dinky was now short one bag of fresh, warm brownies.

* * *

Author's note: A short chapter, I know, but it still took up almost two days of story time. I'm trying to decide whether or not to get to the end story now that everything is in place or go along at the current pace. The quick way would take one or two hundred thousand more words but the regular route would be more like five or six hundred thousand. I received some trumpet music for my anniversary that I'm anxious to learn but it would have to be put off until this story is done for any real progress. Oh, the conflicts inherent in being a renaissance man.

I also wanted to acknowledge that the "He was limping when he left./He was limping when he got there." dialog was from the John Wayne movie "El Dorado." It fit too well to leave out.

Dad


	96. Chapter 96

* * *

Chapter 96 - Tick Tock

November 12th, 1997

Late at night

Fred and George were sitting at the worktable in the Northern Fortress with Remus, Harry, Ron and Hermione. They had all been summoned to checkout the new toy that had fallen into their hands. "It's clearly working like ours," said Fred.

"But more so," said George. "This one automatically identifies anyone with the Mark II as well as locates the old Dark Mark."

"The range also beats us by, what?" asked Fred, looking at George.

"Around two thousand miles, give or take," said George. He rolled the small box over and looked at the underside.

"Doesn't require a wand tap, either," commented Remus. "At least not for detection. I think we can stop on those other ones." He didn't seem pleased.

"Well, there's ten thousand galleons down the tubes," said Fred, equally morosely.

"Make them anyway," said Ron. "If they work the way you've described, they could still be used for high security areas. Just have them set up to portkey to a cell up here instead of sending out a homing beacon."

"I suppose that'd be useful," said Fred.

"In spots," finished George.

"All I want to know," said Hermione, "is whether or not you can make some of _these_." She indicated the authentic Death Eater model they were examining.

"Some?" asked Fred, George and Remus.

"At least three or four," added Hermione. "When I reviewed the rescue of Minerva, it occurred to me that we should have used triangulation. That means taking a direction from Hogwarts; drawing a line on a map and then apparating to London or somewhere else far away and doing it again. The lines would cross near where she was. We could then get nearby and do it again. It would have been much quicker."

The others thought this through; Ron going so far as to point one finger on his left hand and then doing the same in a dissimilar direction on his right before looking up. "Brilliant!" he said. "If we had a pair of these, we could find every missing Death Eater in England."

"As long as we knew their names," added Harry. "Fortunately, Martha has most of them." Having a rare burst of insight, he turned to his research team and ordered, "Make some up as fast as you can. Don't stop until you have twenty of them."

"Twenty?" asked Hermione. "That's quite a few, don't you think?"

"No," said Harry. "Don't you see? We'll set up a pair permanently at Hogwarts and somewhere else; probably at our house in London, as you suggested. The elves can communicate between themselves and keep cycling through the list. When the main pair roughly locates a Death Eater, another pair can move in to get an exact location while we start finding the next one. We'd be back in business at tracking their movements."

"And we'd probably be able to use Voldemort's own apparition points to do it," added Hermione, loving the irony.

"When you have a couple of them done," said Ron, "we'd better give that one back. It's only a matter of time before they discover that they have a fake." When Jumper and Blinky had discovered Wendall and Festus, Harry had been brought in to lead the attack. Using their cloaks, they had initially planned on capture but decided to let Voldemort think they were still secret spies. Harry had cast the Obliviate Tractus spell followed by petrifications for both of them. Following extensive questioning by Harry, Ron and Hermione, they took the detector and released the Death Eaters from the spells. Hermione had transfigured a rock into a reasonable facsimile of the detector and charmed the needles to always point north at maximum distance. If it was ever checked out, it would be exposed at once, but was the best they could do, for now.

"We'll get right on it," said Fred, exuding less confidence than usual. The magic behind the detector was quite advanced.

"And I'll start on figuring out how to use them," said Hermione. At the puzzled looks, she explained. "This will take some thinking. One line from northern Scotland and one from southern England. We'll need them to cross accurately on the same map to be useful."

"True enough," said Remus. He looked at the detector once more. "I think we should make the arrow longer. That would help to get a more precise direction."

"I suppose," said Harry. "You know what we want so add anything else you can thing of that'd help."

"We'll keep you informed," said George, picking up the detector and walking over to the portkey icons. The one for their shop was, appropriately, a jester's scepter.

* * *

Thursday Morning, November 13th, 1997

Martha was making her way back to her office after performing her morning ritual of paper delivery. She was in a fairly good mood. Oliver had a job, now, and wouldn't have a morning off until Saturday. This had allowed her to enjoy her paper in a manner she had come to miss; discussing the more interesting or funny items with Peter. Despite what Oliver had wanted and what Peter, himself, had told her, she just couldn't help but perceive him as more of a rascal than a villain when they chatted. Nevertheless, she had decided that, whatever the motivation, she wouldn't enter his cell again. That had been foolish emotionalism. In the back of her mind, though, she also knew that it had, in the end, been safe.

These conflicting thoughts were put on hold, however, as she passed the cell of another enigma. Fenrir Greyback stood next to the glass waving this morning's Daily Prophet. This didn't seem to please the Ministry official on the cover as he slammed first into one side, then the other of the photo. It was enough, however, to attract her attention. Stepping over to the cell, she activated the sound.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, perfunctorily.

"Well, good morning to you, too," replied Greyback. He turned to toss the paper on his desk. "As it turns out," he continued, "I have a simple enough request. I'd like a trumpet."

"A trumpet?" asked Martha, surprised.

"I'd prefer a trumpet," affirmed Greyback, "although a cornet would do, I suppose. Some music would be nice, as well."

"Of course," replied Martha, taken a bit off guard by the unusual request. After a few seconds, she decided that, given what they knew of Greyback's past, it wasn't that unexpected so she said, "Well, I can run it by Harry and Hermione. I don't see it being much of a problem. These cells are soundproof, after all."

"You'd be surprised what isn't soundproof where a trumpet is concerned," retorted Greyback, chuckling. "It might take me a while to get my lips back in shape, though. It's been almost fifty years since I last played."

"I'll ask," restated Martha. "What sort of music would you prefer?"

"I was always partial to Haydn, although Handel and Bach are just as good," replied Greyback. "I like the sound of some of the big band music, too, but as the name implies, you need a big band to play along with. Ode to Joy, for example, can be done as a solo. Bugle Call Rag, though, needs the accompaniment."

"I'll send Hermione down to discuss the specifics," said Martha. It was possible that the brilliant witch wasn't an expert on music but she wouldn't bet a knut on it. With a few words of parting, Martha reactivated the silencing charm and went on her way.

* * *

Around Noon, in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

"They seemed to be pretty bloody confused to me." Mundungus Fletcher picked another piece of chicken off of the platter. He had, as usual, stopped by Headquarters in time for a meal. To be fair, that wasn't difficult. When a house-elf is upset, they glean comfort from their work and Slinky had been upset for quite some time. Using _The Voice_, she was able to get any cooking help she needed from Winky. Between the two of them, a cornucopia of nutritious or tasty treats was available for the taking pretty much any time of the day. Breakfast was available until the morning tea. That normally lasted until lunch and so forth.

"I imagine so," agreed Mad-eye. "From what I've heard, they barely had time to pull their wands. Did your associates mention the elves at all?"

"No," lied Dung. Elves again. "What about them?"

"That's hard to believe," said Shacklebolt. "They had photos of them in the paper from Potter's funeral. Shouldn't be any secret by now that he's working with them." He stabbed another piece of melon from his fruit salad.

"Not to mention that they were crawling all over Diagon Alley after the attack, Tuesday," added Mad-eye. "I think Harry went overboard a bit by calling in so many of them. Hindsight's 20/20, of course. Then again, they were looking for any other Death Eaters so it makes sense that there weren't any around to notice the elves. They'd have been spotted and captured."

"How?" asked Mundungus. This was the information he'd been sent to collect. He wasn't informed that the generalities had already been guessed at by Snape and the Dark Lord. His mission was merely to verify the details.

"Sorry," said Mad-eye. "Can't tell you. I'm surprised they haven't figured it out for themselves. Still we don't want to make it easy for them in case you're found out to be a spy."

"That's true, I suppose," agreed Shacklebolt. "Nothing you need to know, anyway." Both he and Mad-eye went back to their snacking. Mundungus had lost his appetite. His heart had skipped a beat when Mad-eye mentioned that he knew he was a spy. Of course, the Order thought he was spying against the Dark Lord. After a few seconds, he found his hunger, again.

* * *

Late that afternoon, in the office of the Headmistress.

"Tomorrow?" asked Hermione. She didn't seem to have the proper amount of enthusiasm for someone who'd just been told that the major favor that she had asked for had finally been granted.

"Yes," repeated Minerva. "Just after lunch. You're to meet Rufus in his office at one o'clock and he'll accompany both you and Harry to Westminster Palace. I'm sorry, Ron, but the tower is not wheelchair compatible."

Ron seemed a bit crestfallen but was also understanding. "I understand, Headmistress. I wouldn't have a job, anyway. We already know of the use for that particular location."

"I wouldn't completely rule you out," said Hermione. "You're quite good at seeing how complex movements all fit together. Of course, we'll make our own arrangements after tomorrow, so your carpet will be fine for the next trip."

"It's probably just as well," said Harry. "We're doing Windsor Castle on Saturday. That'd be a lot of time in your chair if we did it all on the same weekend."

"I'm not concerned," said Ron. "Just bring back some souvenirs."

"Did Rufus mention whether or not he found an expert?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," answered Minerva. "That's the main reason that he's set up the appointment for tomorrow. The man's name is Clive, ah, let's see. Clive something. I think it started with a B." She pauses a few seconds thinking before asking, "What _was_ it?"

"_Anyway_," said Harry, loudly.

"Oh," said Minerva. "Anyway, he's going on vacation next week. Since he's the senior clock expert, Rufus thought you'd prefer him over one of the younger men."

"True, I suppose," said Harry. He turned to Hermione. "One o'clock. I guess we'd better pick one of the smaller sites for the morning, then."

"I suppose," said Hermione. "That would probably be Arthur's Stone. There isn't that much there. Just Arthur's Stone and the grounds. If it goes as quickly as I suspect, we could probably hit someplace else before lunch."

"When does it open?" asked Harry.

"Whenever you get there," answered Hermione.

"How much do they charge you to see it?" asked Ron.

"Nothing," said Hermione.

"Is there a tour?" asked Harry.

"What are they going to say?" rebutted Hermione. "Here's Arthur's Stone; come back soon?"

"This is just some jolly large rock that they couldn't move out of the way so they made a tourist attraction out of it, isn't it," summarized Harry.

"Nearly," admitted Hermione. "It's a five-thousand year old late neolithic multi-chamber burial site in Herefordshire."

"Why's it called Arthur's Stone?" asked Ron.

"It's obvious," answered Harry. "That's the name of the bloke buried there."

"That's correct," lied Hermione, wishing to move on. "I think that..."

"I was _right_?" asked Harry, incredulously. Ron gave him a high five while Minerva and Hermione waited patiently.

"Of course," said Hermione. "Now, it's occurred to me that it would have been nice to have a werewolf with us during the trip to Westminster Palace. Unfortunately, the appointment is during the full moon so that won't be happening. Nevertheless, we might want to make another trip when it's safe. A detailed memory would work just as well as a personal visit if we just needed some additional information."

"That makes sense," said Ron. "It would definitely lower our risks of discovery."

"You'd have to take care with the werewolf you chose for such an assignment, though," cautioned Minerva. "You wouldn't want someone who'd be tempted to sell the information that you're interested in the clockworks to Voldemort."

"I hadn't thought of that," mused Hermione. She looked at the others for solutions.

"We'll have to give that some thought," said Harry, "at least before we use that technique on places we're intending to visit. Savan and Kamalia just visited Voldemort's hideouts. That wouldn't arouse any suspicions."

"I suppose not," agreed Minerva. "He's probably done the same to Hogwarts."

"You're right," confirmed Harry. "I suppose we should've told you. Last night, Jumper found a pair of his men in a sort of cave in the side of the mountain. We gained quite a bit from them so, if you don't mind, we'd like to just save that story until the next meeting of the inner circle."

"Have you captured them?" asked Minerva. She tended to agree with Harry that a pair of Death Eaters within sight of Hogwarts was something she should have been told.

"No," answered Hermione. "We negated their effectiveness, for now, though. Fred and George are trying to replicate a piece of equipment. We don't want to tip our hand that we know about them until we can return it."

The clues made Minerva even more curious but she decided she could wait. "I must say that your hints have made me even more curious, but I suppose I can wait until the next meeting. You'll be needing to prepare for your trips, I'd expect."

"True enough," said Harry, rising. "If there's nothing else?" He looked around the room. With nothing forthcoming, they all bid their farewells.

* * *

November 14th, 1997

Late-morning at Chappell's on Bond Street

"I thought they made motorcycles," said Harry. He was holding up the trumpet that Hermione had picked out; a Yamaha YTR-8335RTS. It was, he had to admit, a thing of beauty. With more heft than the other trumpets he had held that morning, he was told that the heavy construction allowed for a consistently full-bodied tonal core no matter how hard it was pushed.

"They make lots of things," informed Hermione. She had already picked out a heavy duty stand of German origin and was now looking through several stacks of trumpet solos ranged from moderate to very advanced. She had currently set aside a dozen or so but seemed intent on continuing her search.

"May I ask why you've insisted on so completely fulfilling Fenrir's request?" asked Harry. Martha had informed them both of the ex-werewolf's request the night before.

"Because it's about the only way we can repay him for his help," replied Hermione. "Besides being cured, of course. He's never going to be released. He's killed too many for that to ever happen. However, as you yourself have told me, he didn't initially choose his life. All things considered, he might have another fifty or so years to live out. If his first request was to take up the trumpet, again, I think we owe it to him to set him up right. Seventeen-hundred quid seems like a lot, but if you spread it out over fifty years, it's only thirty-four pounds a year. That's a pretty cheap hobby." She stopped looking through the original stacks when she caught site of some records with the unusual title of 'Music Minus One'.

"I suppose," agreed Harry. "I guess it's all your point of view. Yarn is pretty cheap, but Mrs. Weasley knits all the time. She's probably gone through a fortune, over the years."

"Exactly," said Hermione, picking out a stack of the records for trumpet. "I can enchant these the same as I did your medallion. That should keep him busy for a while." She took the fifteen inch stack of records and music over to the counter.

"I should hope so," said Harry, setting the trumpet and stand next to the pile. "Of course this does bring up another problem." He pulled out his muggle fifties to pay the bill.

"What's that?" asked Hermione, reaching into her purse for her own money, in case Harry was short.

"If we're giving him all this now," answered Harry, "what'll be left for a Christmas present?"

Hermione paused long enough to give her husband an exasperated look. "I'm sure you'll think of something." Harry had indeed come up short for their purchase so she made up the last two-hundred-fifty pounds herself.

* * *

After the Potters left the shop, they quickly ducked into an alley and sent Flower back with their purchases with instructions to give everything but the records to Greyback. The morning's expedition to Arthur's Stone had taken about as long as expected, so despite spending well over an hour in the music store, it was still only just past noon. At Harry's suggestion, they apparated off to join Rufus and Greta for lunch. Harry remembered that a convenient stand of holly grew just behind and to the left of the usual bench that Rufus and Greta shared for their meal. The pop of their arrival didn't go unnoticed, however. Rufus was the closest and reacted with the characteristic, although oxymoronic standing crouch while pulling his wand with one hand and placing his other on Greta's head. Dawlish was close enough to do nearly the same while Shacklebolt had to use a few seconds to react to the sudden appearance of a witch and wizard on the map. Franklin and O'Nestie, now fully recovered, also broke cover to defend the Minister.

Almost immediately, Rufus stood up straight and holstered his wand. "Bloody hell, Harry," he said. "Don't you think we've had enough excitement for this week?" He signaled for his men to return to their posts.

"Go and see who's about that shouldn't be," said Harry, softly. He heard no response, but sensed Jumper, under his invisibility cloak, of course, wander off.

"Harry!" shouted Greta, leaping to her feet and running to give Harry a hug. "I'm so glad you came, again."

"Well," harrumphed Hermione, putting her hands on her hips. "I'd better start getting the first hug, now and again, or _someone_ will be getting a very small lump of coal for Christmas."

Greta broke off from Harry with a worried look on her face and rushed over to appease the tyrant. "I'm sorry, Hermany," said Greta. "I love you both. You know that, don't you?" She gave the now repentant Hermione a teary hug.

"Of course I do," said Hermione, hugging the little girl back. "I'm just teasing."

"Oh, don't do that," commanded Greta. "I wouldn't like being teased if I had to come live with you."

"I won't tease... What was that?" asked Hermione.

"Greta," said Rufus. "I haven't had a chance to talk with Harry and Hermione about that, just yet. I only asked what you'd like." He looked uneasily at Harry and Hermione as he said this.

"And I told you," countered Greta. "I said if..."

"Look at the time," interrupted Rufus, checking the wrong wrist. "We'd better pack up and get you back to class." He hastily picked up the mostly uneaten lunch and prepared to walk the much confused Greta across the street to her school.

"I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder as Greta checked both ways before allowing Grampa to step into the street.

Dawlish took the opportunity to step nearby and whisper, "He hasn't talked to me, either, but I understand." He then stepped back to his more distant position before Harry could ask any questions. Hermione, of course, had figured out all the details, by now, and didn't need any further clues.

Rufus took his time returning. He had the look of a man who wasn't prepared for a conversation that had unexpectedly been thrust upon him. When he had made it back to the bench, he quickly sat down on the end. "Have a seat, please," he asked, indicating the bench.

Harry and Hermione both did as they were asked.

"Well," began Rufus. "I'm not sure how to... I mean I wasn't planning on asking this so soon and..." He looked over at Jack, apprehensively.

Jack Dawlish, Rufus' partner for ten years and his best friend for twenty, came over and put his hand on the older man's shoulder. "Don't punish yourself, Rufus," he said. "You've never let what others might think come between you and doing what you've thought best for Greta yet, so why start now?"

"Am I that transparent?" asked Rufus.

"Let's find out," said Hermione. "You were attacked three days ago. You were also the first to hit the ground. I'll bet that's never happened before. So, while you're recovering, you started thinking about what would happen to Greta if you _did_ die. Naturally, you'd have already made arrangements, but Jack isn't all that much younger than you, and as one of your bodyguards, he could easily fall right along with you. Minerva was another option, of course, but she's also... well, old. So you asked Greta about where she'd like to go if you were hurt and had to stay in the hospital. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have mentioned the real reason. Anyway, she loves Harry and feels safe with him and tells you so. Are we pretty much up to date?"

Rufus had already passed through shocked and moved on to resigned. Once again, he turned to glance at Jack.

"I'm an old bachelor, Rufus," said Jack. "You know I'll look after Greta, wherever she ends up, but I have to agree that a young couple would be better for her, in the long run."

Rufus nodded his head in agreement. "I tend to agree. The question, then," he said, turning towards Harry and Hermione, "is whether or not Mr. And Mrs. Potter will do the same."

Neither Harry nor Hermione had to hesitate to check with their spouse. "Of course we agree," proclaimed Harry for the two of them. Turning to Hermione, he suggested, "We could move Grampa and the hag out of the room next to ours. It's not quite as big as some of the bedrooms on the second floor but it'd be close at hand if she needed us."

"Oh, I agree," agreed Hermione. "It'd have to be painted in some brighter colors, of course. That drab ochre should go in any event."

"Not to mention the bed is way too big for Greta," added Harry. "We should probably redo all of the furniture in there, if it comes down to it."

"Don't count me out, just yet," said Rufus, a little miffed. "I might hang around for years, you know."

"Well I should certainly hope so," said Hermione. "There's no point waiting to set things up, though. I'd expect that Greta will want to have a sleep-over or two, just for general purposes."

"Maybe longer than an overnight, too," added Harry. "How long of a honeymoon were you planning?"

Rufus looked just slightly put out. "I haven't asked her," he stated.

"Yet," replied Harry, Hermione and, from a few feet away, Jack.

"Yet," echoed Rufus. He leaned in close and added, "Try to keep the week after Christmas free." He nodded with a wink as he pulled away.

"So where do you have in mind?" asked Hermione.

"I'm thinking Venice," answered Rufus. "It's supposed to be nice, I hear."

"I'll give you a weather report," offered Hermione. "We'll be next door in Sicily the week before. I'm looking forward to some sunshine."

"I don't doubt it," said Rufus. "It doesn't get too bad here in London, but I do seem to remember more than a bit of a chill in the air in northern Scotland, that time of year."

"You've got that right," agreed Hermione. "Say; maybe we could rearrange our schedule and take Greta with us. She might like a little sunshine, too."

"She'd also be close by for a visit or two, too," extrapolated Rufus. "I like it. We could join back up at the end of the week and all come back together."

"Done," said Harry. "Now, there's only one detail left to take care of."

"What's that?" asked Rufus.

"Asking Minerva, idiot," stated Jack with rolling eyes.

* * *

Shortly after one o'clock at the entrance to St. Thomas' tower in the Palace of Westminster.

"Afternoon, Gov'ner." The weathered face of Clive Briarwood smiled genuinely, if a bit confusedly, at first Rufus, and then the rest of the party. Reaching out his hand, he greeted them all, Hermione included, with a hearty handshake.

"Good afternoon," replied Rufus when the flurry of greetings had died down. "Have you taken the precautions that were directed?"

"Not a soul 'ere but us, Gov'ner," responded Clive in his probably abysmally unconvincing Cockney accent.

"Good. Good," replied Rufus. "My, whatever could that be?" He pointed behind Clive in surprise as Hermione pointed her wand directly at the clockmaster and cast the Obliviate Tractus spell as his back was turned. She quickly put her wand away until the end of the tour.

"I don't see nuttin, Gov'ner," responded Clive as he scanned the area.

"No matter," said Rufus. "Now, as you were informed, I'm one of the 'secret' Ministers. The reason my staff and I are here and the reasons behind the questions we might ask are also secret. Rest assured, this information is vital and you're doing a great service to your country by assisting us, but this visit is never to be revealed to anyone."

"Thank ye, Gov'ner," replied Clive, beaming with pride. "I won' tell a bloomin' soul about nut'in."

"Very well," finished Rufus. He turned to Hermione and said, "Hermione?"

"Mr. Briarwood," began Hermione, "we're interested in the clockworks. Specifically, we'd like to see the pendulum and all parts controlled by it."

"Name's Clive, miss," said Clive, before opening the doors leading up. "This way, ever'un." He led the way up the spiraling stairs. After quite a climb and several floors. Most of these were set up for generic tours with used and broken parts on display as well as the occasional tool. The party walked past these, however, and went around the corner to where a small door stood closed. Clive used his key and opened the door, reaching to his right to turn on a light before stepping through to a catwalk. When the others had joined him, he pointed up and said, "There's the pend'lum." Indeed, slowly swinging back and forth was the enormous pendulum; flanked, of course, by the three main weights that served to power the Clock of England.

All of them, but especially Hermione, looked closely at the specific details within sight. With the floor above them obscuring their view, it didn't take too long before Hermione said, "That should do for this level, Mr. Briarwood. Could we have a closer look at the rest, please?"

"Right you 'ere, miss," replied Clive as he followed them all back out to the main room. Reaching the spiral staircase, they continued their climb skyward. By this time, of course, Rufus was beginning to get a bit winded. Harry and Hermione were doing better, having spent the last six plus years running up and down the stairs at Hogwarts on their way to class. As they cleared the next landing, Clive continued on, but the rest had to pause for a moment as the enormous clockworks came into view. Harry, alone among the newcomers, had see it before but still had to gape for a moment at the enormous, yet delicate, timepiece.

The top of the pendulum was visible, but just. It lay nestled behind an assortment of gears and wheels that, although moving slowly for the most part, still gave the unmistakable impression of coordinated motion. The glacial pace of the other parts were mocked by the relatively disjointed spinning of two spoked hubs that would remain motionless for most of the time but suddenly fly off briefly when the pendulum hit either of two curved pieces of metal with a large ball on their tips. This was concurrent to the ever-so-slight dropping of a nearby cable through the floor that was, if their memories served, connected to one of the three weights. In doing so, the potential energy was transformed into kinetic as the pendulum was given a sufficient boost to speed it up to it's original height. The process was then repeated. Coming off the top of the most centered section, was a gear with a shaft that intersected another similar pair that then left off through the wall.

"This part 'ere," began Clive, "is fer the clock, proper; the hands an all." He was pointing vaguely at the area just left of center. Raising his hand to indicate the aforementioned shaft and gears above the main clockworks, he continued with, "It's hard'ta see, of cour', but this 'ere is the part that makes all four 'ands move, an all. All eight 'ands, I mean. Th'our and minute 'uns fer all four sides, ya see."

"Of course," said Hermione, wondering briefly if Mr. Briarwood had been a pirate in the past. "This part here," she continued, indicating the very top of the pendulum, "controls the timing. Is that correct?"

"Yes, miss," affirmed Clive, nodding. "Takes two secs to finish a full swing, it does."

"And these spinning... things," she proceeded. "What do they do, exactly?"

"Those're the 'scapemens," answered Clive. "They're to make sure that the hands only goes so far with ev're swing. Widout 'em, the whole thing'd just go faster an' faster.

"I see there's just the two pennies on the top of the pendulum," said Harry, jumping in. "How often does that change?"

"The old girl has to be going too fast 'er slow fer a day're so afore we gets too much worked up," answered Clive. "The weather affects're more'n anyting, it does. In the summer, we use'ly 'ave three 'er four pennies on top. If'n it gets gold enough, we migh' tak'em all off in the winter."

"How much change do you get with a penny?" asked Hermione, taking the time to give Harry a sharp look to prevent him from attempting a pun.

"The clock speeds up two-fifths of a second for ev're one," said Clive. "That's per day, of cour'."

As they were talking, no one noticed the right hand set of gears moving more quickly than normal, leading to...

DING! DONG! DING! DONG!

"What the bloody hell was that!" exclaimed Harry. He could feel his heart beating around twice its normal speed.

"It's a quarter past," said Clive, the only one undisturbed. He checked his watch.

"So I gathered," said Hermione. She was also surprised, but had realized what was happening within a half second and simply covered her ears.

"It definitely wakes you up," opined Rufus. He had instinctively nearly pulled his wand but, like Hermione, had realized the source fairly quickly.

"You get used to it," commented Clive.

"Just, let me summarize," requested Hermione, deciding to return to the main topic. "The pendulum swings over and hits one of these curved pieces with the ball on the end. When it hits that, the scapements are allowed to move, but just so far. That moves the hands a smidge. Then, the pendulum swings back and does the same with the other side."

"In a nutshell," agreed Clive. "Cour' that don' tell the whole story. There's the bells, an' all."

"The bells don't concern us, Mr. Briarwood," finished Hermione. "Just the parts directly affected by the pendulum."

"What's the pendulum made out of?" asked Rufus, thinking ahead to when they'd want to replace it.

"Stainless steel," answered Clive. "Not sure what grade. It might say in the upper exhibition room. We've some pieces of the shaft it were made from in a case."

"We'll need to borrow a sample," said Hermione, greedily. To have a piece of the steel that the pendulum itself was made from would make everything easier.

"Don'no if'n I can be doin' that," countered Clive. "That's of 'istoric value, it is."

"I've seen to the authorizations," said Rufus, curtly. "You're to assist us in any way we require."

"I know," said Clive, worriedly. "I just don'no about handin' over..."

"Let's go see it," said Hermione. "Maybe we'll just need a peek."

This placated Clive a bit and, being eager to end this uncomfortable conversation, he led them to the display case. Inside, some turnings and a pair of cylinders cut from either end of the current pendulum were shown. The case was secured with a simple lock.

"Take him down to the entrance and wait for us," ordered Hermione to Rufus.

"This way, please," said Rufus. He gestured towards the stairway.

"But, but..." said Clive before deciding to let it go for now. He'd check later and if anything was missing, promise or no, he'd have a chat with _someone_.

"Alohomora," incanted Hermione. The lock clicked open. Quickly, she reached in and pulled out one of the large pieces of steel. "Here," she said, handing it to Harry.

"Thanks," said Harry with a grunt. Not knowing what to do with the eight pound slug, he handed it to Jumper who was hidden nearby.

"Diffindo," said Hermione, severing a chunk of the table leg. She instinctively caught the end of the table as it wobbled.

"What did you do that for?" asked Harry. He reached over to help her.

"I need something to work with," replied Hermione, letting go of the table and pointing her wand at the bottom of the short leg. With a quick word, she had transfigured the leg to its original length and shape, albeit in a now hollow form. She bent down and picked up the former foot to the leg.

"Why didn't you let me do it?" asked Harry. "I don't need any raw material, remember?"

If the truth were known, Hermione _had_ forgotten that Harry could conjure lasting material out of thin air but the truth wasn't in play. "This works better," she lied, dropping the subject to transfigure the piece of wood to match, or nearly enough match, the steel chunk. The great amount of additional density required taxed her a bit, but she finally had the desired result.

"There," she said, placing it in the case. "No harm done." She re-locked the case.

"No harm noticed, you mean," corrected Harry.

"Right," said Hermione. "Now, let's get downstairs and have a quick tour."

Harry and Hermione rejoined Rufus and the now suspicious Clive Briarwood in the entranceway.

"I'd better find naught missing when I check," stated Clive, his hands on his hips.

Harry and Hermione didn't respond but returned to as near their original positions as they could. After Hermione nodded to Rufus, the Minister said, in apparent alarm, "There it is, again," while pointing behind Clive. An unseen ray struck Clive in the back before he turned back around.

"I don't see nuttin, Gov'ner," responded Clive as he scanned the area.

"No matter," said Rufus. "Now, as you were informed, I'm one of the 'secret' Ministers."

* * *

Author's note: Sorry about the delay. I had some heart issues and was in the hospital for a few days. Surprisingly, my arteries were clear but I had some electrical problems. They couldn't fix them but I'm on some pills to keep it beating properly. When I went in for the second procedure, I didn't even recognize my heart beat since it was so erratic. I had two overlapping arrhythmias (sorry about the spelling) and it sounded like a slower version of popcorn. All fixed now, though, so I should be writing faster, again. See you next time.

Dad


	97. Chapter 97

Chapter 97 - Le Morte de Mort

November 15th, 1997

"You'd think the Queen could afford a decent driveway," said Ron, quite disgruntled. The entrance pathway to Windsor Castle, although picturesque, left a lot to be desired for the handicapped and infirm. Narrow wheels coupled with cobblestones tended to produce a bone-jarring experience. As it was an exceptionally brisk day, for this time of year, only two other paraplegics were taking the tour. One, a middle-aged woman and her husband who, from their attire and speech, were presumably from the United States, were having quite as much trouble as Ron with her cheaply made, borrowed wheelchair. The other rider, though, seemed to be quite comfortable on his much more padded, self-propelled scooter. Ron looked on enviously.

"It isn't much further," said Hermione, reassuringly. She was walking along with Harry, making sure he didn't lose his footing on the uneven bricks. He was concentrating on sensing any local horcruxes.

"What, exactly, would you consider a long distance?" asked Luna, huffing a bit as she pushed her 'brother'. She didn't ordinarily have much use for sarcasm, but in this case, she felt it was justified. It was at least another two hundred feet, slightly uphill no less, to the entranceway and Ron was no feather, after all.

"Pull over a second so I can tie my shoe," ordered Hermione, deciding that the complaints were not unreasonable.

The troupe obliged and pulled up next to some fairly inviting, although slightly damp stone benches lining this particular section of the walkway. Without notice from the other members of the tour, Hermione placed her foot on the edge of one bench and reached down. Glancing around to see if anyone was overly interested in watching her tie her non-existent laces, she pulled her wand from her boot and cast a modified Imperturbable spell in Ron's direction. The flash was barely discernable in daylight and Hermione replaced her wand before it could be spotted. Standing up, she said, "That's better." She walked a bit faster to catch up to the tour.

"What did you do?" asked Luna, smiling. She had much less trouble pushing the chair than before. Ron also seemed to be in a better frame of mind.

"I made his wheels repel bricks," replied Hermione. "He's literally riding on air."

It was true. Only an ant would have the proper view to notice it, but Ron was hovering approximately a quarter inch over the pavement. The enchantment wasn't so rigid as to maintain an exact distance so the innumerable cracks and crevasses were absorbed quite comfortably as they moved along.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Ron, thankfully. "This is more like my carpet." He leaned back and enjoyed the ride.

"You're welcome," said Hermione, smiling backwards as she walked. She then noticed a problem. "Ron," she whispered. "Spin your wheels a bit." His wheels, without having the proper contact, had stopped moving despite the fact that he had not.

"Oh," said Ron. He reached down and gave the free-rolling hoops a push. They were balanced to the point of perfection so it only took a nudge to maintain the illusion of normalcy.

Shortly thereafter, Harry had a question. "Hermione," he asked, "this castle is supposed to be almost a thousand years old, right?"

"Just a bit over nine-hundred, actually," corrected Hermione. "The oldest parts, that is. Some of it's much younger. The curtain wall was remodeled in the early nineteenth century, for example."

"Yes," said Harry. "That's what I thought. So why could they remodel this place, right here near London, when Prudhoe Castle is some sort of historic shrine that can't be touched?"

Hermione stopped with a weary expression on her face. "You're not still thinking of buying that pile of rocks, are you?"

"No," said Harry, slowly. He glanced at Luna and quickly added, "not really. It's crossed my mind, from time to time that it might be fun; that's all." He saw Luna begin to say something but she decided to just shrug. Harry wasn't being entirely honest but he was close enough.

* * *

With the suspension problems resolved, they hurried along to be let through the gate with the others in the tour. Harry went back to the business at hand; namely hunting horcruxes. Ron and Luna followed along. Ron was taking note of anywhere the Death Eaters had been reported to congregate and Luna was enjoying the many distractions available.

"I wish this line would move a little faster," wished Ron a few minutes later. There seemed to be some sort of a delay at the entrance to the castle and the chill wind that had picked up was gaining a bit more bite.

"It won't be long," said Luna, pulling her cape around her a bit more effectively. She, alone among the four of them, had prepared for the possibility of London's weather being cooler than Scotland's.

"I hope not," said Harry. "Even getting out of the wind will be welcome, at this point." By virtue of having a member of their group in a wheelchair as well as wishing to remain a bit separate from the others so they could talk freely, they were nearly the last who would be allowed through the portal. The guards, with their traditional red uniforms and huge fluffy hats, stood still as statues as the unwashed masses wandered by.

"Hermione?" asked Harry, trying to decide how to present his next question.

"It's tradition," she answered. "At some point, someone decided that the uniforms should stay as they were so these poor men are stuck with it."

"That _wasn't_ what I was going to ask," said Harry, testily.

"Yes, it was," replied Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes, unfortunately glancing at Luna, as if for support.

"She's right," confirmed Luna. She thought a moment before adding, "Of course, she could have waited for you to gather your thoughts and actually ask."

"Well, excuse me for being efficient," huffed Hermione. She then walked on in silence as the line began to move again.

* * *

When they finally passed through the gate, located next to Edward the Fourth's Tower, they made an unpleasant discovery.

"We're bloody well still outside," exclaimed Harry, surprised. A large field opened up before them as they cleared the tunnel. Although technically a courtyard, the size of the bounded area approached that of a quidditch pitch.

"This is the Upper Keep," explained Hermione, examining her tour leaflet. "It was originally the most protected area of the castle, at least when you're outside. There's one on the other side of the tower, here," she pointed at the round tower to the west. "It's called the Lower Keep. That's where the Death Eaters usually go. There would be too much chance of them being spotted in this one."

"Why's that?" asked Luna.

"The royal private and visitor's apartments border this area," explained Hermione, gesturing to the south and east. "The Lower Ward is more or less deserted after dark."

"You'd think it would still be a little too public for them to use," offered Ron. "There must be guards around, even at night."

"I agree," said Hermione, "but that's what they've been doing. Maybe that area isn't guarded as well as we'd have assumed."

"Maybe not," agreed Harry, distracted. He was examining a large statue of a horse that was rearing back triumphantly. It was located just inside the entranceway and was quite impressive.

"Are you detecting anything?" asked Ron.

"Me?" asked Harry. He seemed to come out of his reverie. "Ah, no." He left the statue to return to his friends.

* * *

They followed the guide around the perimeter, not really listening to the rehearsed speech, until they came to another archway.

"I hope this one leads inside," muttered Harry as they joined the queue. It did. The four of them entered the castle proper and found themselves in a foyer fit for a king. In this case, of course, it was fit for a queen but you get the picture. They entered on the middle of what appeared to be at least three levels. Enormous marble staircases curved to the right and left, both up and down, as horizontal hallways led out on this floor in three directions. Despite this room's obvious purpose as a conduit to the rest of the castle, it was also quite elaborately decorated beautifully in its own right. Paintings and tapestries lined the walls, separated by numerous busts of past rulers and other notable nobles. The granite floor was basically in a black and white checkerboard pattern with intricate designs, mostly heavy with lion based symbolism, inlaid in gold. All in all, for the first time viewers, at least, there was no choice but to pause a moment to admire the phenomenal first taste of what would undoubtedly turn out to be a castle to remember.

The assembly of tourists were allowed the opportunity to wander about the room; after being warned not to touch anything, of course. Luna and Ron followed the generally counterclockwise flow of the majority. Occasionally, one or the other would point out an item of interest but they seemed to enjoy the casual viewing of everything. Hermione was a bit more discriminating about where she chose to dally but managed to keep up with the group, more or less.

Harry pretty much followed along, doing his best to try to sense any nearby horcruxes. Nothing made itself apparent to him so he merely trudged along. Then, he suddenly had to stop. Before him hung a huge painting of a fox hunt. At the far right of the painting was a group of howling dogs in hot pursuit, presumably of a fox. They were followed from the left by a large group of hunters, crashing through the light undergrowth of a sparse woods. Although colorfully attired, it wasn't the riders that had caught his interest. Seven wholly magnificent horses were, in his mind, the focal point of the entire painting. Thoroughbreds all, they seemed to come alive. A chestnut mare led the way with a lustful onyx colored stallion close behind, nipping at her heels. The others followed, bounding with unchecked energy over or under any branches or shrubs that got in their way. A mighty roan brought up the rear; his nostrils flared in excitement. Harry stared; mesmerized by the masterpiece. The rest of the crowd bumped past him in slight irritation. After a few, all too brief minutes, the tour moved on and he was forced to follow.

"How's it going?" asked Hermione, quietly; unaware of Harry's fascination with the painting.

"What?" asked Harry, distracted.

"Have you detected anything yet?" asked Hermione, adding a bit more detail to her question.

"Oh," stammered Harry. "No. Nothing." He shook himself free of the unexpected mental detour and got back to work. Of one thing he was sure; this castle was crawling with people. This made the job of detecting horcruxes just that much more difficult, of course. Still, he did his best.

As they moved from room to room, Harry took every opportunity to swing a radius of perception around the new location before it was muddied up by the mass motion of the crowd proceeding to the next room. Eventually, however, his greatest distraction drew near. They entered a room so emotive of royalty, that it cannot be described or imagined; only experienced. It was yet another intersection; convergent hallways and staircases coming from all three dimensions, but it could easily be considered the focal point of the entire castle. The spired ceiling, gilt in gold, appeared nearly translucent in the reflected light of the noon sun through trapezoidally shaped windows that twisted their way down from an immense height. Each row of glass was separated from the next by an intricately carved header that depicted one sovereign or another complete with their family and important courtiers. It was difficult to know for sure, but it seemed as if the elaborate family tree was up to date. As the current ruler's family and court made up the bottom row, Hermione wondered if they somehow added to the collection with each new monarch or if the tradition would have to die with the Queen. She'd have to do some more investigating; that was sure.

As the rest of the tour looked about in muted wonder, Harry caught site of a pair of objects that made him completely forget, for the moment, the reason they had come here in the first place. Sitting across the hall on raised platforms next to the staircases, were two full-sized statues of medieval knights in full battle armor astride their war horses. The artistry of the sculptor was such that only common sense allowed you to realize they were not real.

"Will you look at those," whispered Harry in awe. As Hermione followed his gaze, he walked over to get a closer look.

"Yes," said Hermione, somewhat interested. "They're quite nice." She turned to continue her inspection of a tapestry of the Battle of Hastings she had discovered. She didn't look back until, after a few minutes, the rest of their party, along with the muggles in the main tour, proceeded to follow the guide as he led them to the next room. Hermione went to follow when she noticed that Harry had stayed behind.

"It's time to move on," said Hermione, walking back to fetch her husband. He didn't seem to notice. He had a slightly glazed over look in his eyes as he continued to study the horse and rider.

"Harry," said Hermione.

"Look at how perfectly every hair on the mane is carved," said Harry, entranced.

"Harry," repeated Hermione, a little louder.

"You can almost sense the power behind those magnificent muscles," continued Harry, tilting his head slowly to the side.

"It's time to..." prodded Hermione.

"The coat glistens so; you can almost smell the sweat," continued an unhearing Harry.

"Harry," said Hermione, getting a bit concerned.

"And those eyes," gushed Harry, drawing as close as he could with the velvet rope blocking his way. "They seem to stare directly into your soul."

"We have to..." attempted Hermione, once again before Harry interrupted her with the most unexpected statement.

"I wonder how realistic it is," he pondered with curiosity. He then crouched down to get a better look under the saddle blanket when Hermione reached out and grabbed him by his collar.

"We have to go," she intoned quietly, but forcefully. Not letting go of him, she pulled him on out the door. Harry looked back for one last wistful glance before following.

* * *

They proceeded through what had turned out to be a surprisingly long tour; walking from room to room as the guide droned on about the unique features in each. Hermione took special care to monitor Harry's newfound obsession whenever any sort of equine temptation reared its head. She didn't mention it outright, though, not wishing to be a nag.

After another two and a half hours, they finally neared the end of the tour, passing through, ironically enough, the Horseshoe Cloisters as they arrived at the Lower Keep. With a nod towards the Henry the Eighth Gate, the official exit, the guide departed to take a quick break before the next tour.

"So where do the Death Eaters usually go?" asked Harry, looking around. Besides a few shrubs and a low wall, here and there, this particular courtyard was somewhat sterile of any interesting features.

"They tend to appear just north of Salisbury Tower," answered Hermione, pointing to the tower in the south-west corner. "Somewhere around here, if I remember the location correctly." She indicated the north-west corner of the Lower Ward.

The four of them moved over to examine the area a bit closer. At first, no one noticed anything unusual. As they spread out from the corner, Luna had an unexpected question.

"Why don't we check behind the door?" she asked. All three of her companions scanned the area quickly before turning back to her.

"That door?" asked Hermione, gesturing back towards the door that had led them out of the castle.

"No," said Luna, turning both herself and Ron back around. "This door." She pointed at the corner formed by the curtain wall and the southern edge of the Horseshoe Cloisters. As they followed her gaze, first Ron, and then the Potters suddenly noticed the old doorway that they had somehow missed with their first and second glances.

"I'm sure that wasn't there a few seconds ago," muttered Ron. Harry nodded, as well.

"I tend to agree," said Hermione, examining the entire area as if expecting a trapdoor to open up beneath them.

"That's odd," commented Luna. "It's been there all along." She thought a bit more before adding, "It does seem to have a strange aura, though."

At this, Harry walked up and gave the plain door his undivided attention. He did sense some magic was about, but it didn't seem to be particularly malevolent, as far as he could tell. It felt familiar, though.

"It's been enchanted to stay hidden," declared Hermione. She looked around for any glimmer of understanding. "Like the muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron," she prompted.

There were "ah"s all around as they realized what she was driving at.

"Muggles probably can't see it at all," said Harry, "and we didn't notice it until we were specifically looking for it."

"That brings up an important question," said Ron. "What's behind the door?"

They all looked at the door. Harry then naturally checked around to see who was watching them. No one was paying any attention, as far as he could tell. "Let's try to get a bit closer," he suggested. Although they were already within fifteen feet of the phantom door, they still did their best to suggest that it was their intended destination. They needn't have bothered.

"I think we're already out of view to the average muggle," said Hermione. She glanced around once more; trying to determine if her suspicions were correct. The last straggling members of their tour were headed out the gate while the guards on duty; although looking about normally while conversing with one another, didn't seem too upset at their presence. Indeed, on those few occasions where Hermione had actually seen one look their way, it was obviously in passing. They were already as good as invisible.

"Fine," said Harry. "I'll just take care of this door, then. Stand back!" He pulled his wand and held his left arm up to protect himself.

"What are you..." Hermione began, lunging for him. Harry was too quick, though.

"Alohomora," he incanted, grinning mischievously. There was a muted click from the door. Harry put his wand away, obviously pleased with himself.

"Oh, very funny," said Hermione, brushing past him. She walked up to the door and, halting first to draw her own wand, she gingerly brushed the knob. When nothing happened, she grasped it more firmly and pushed her way into the room beyond.

Harry stood directly behind her; prepared to blast anything or anyone who could so much as be perceived as being a threat to his wife. The room appeared to be uninhabited, if not empty, so the Potters continued on inside. Ron and Luna followed. Ron had his wand out, probably since Harry and Hermione had held theirs at the ready. Luna, occupied with Ron's chair in any case, had used her intelligent, but humble, Ravenclaw mind to realize that anyone who managed to get by both Harry and Hermione wouldn't be slowed down by her.

"Lumos," said Hermione. Her wand lit to reveal what must have been an existing storage room. A few older maintenance tools, some buckets, a pair of spades and a wheelbarrow were all setting on or near an ancient shelving unit attached to the northern wall. A sturdy worktable with two handmade chairs occupied the west end of the room while various ropes and other assorted pieces of tackle finished up the eastern wall.

"Don't touch anything," warned Ron. He knew that Hermione knew better but Harry was always susceptible to temptation. Luna, although not an idiot, was inexperienced in the ways of danger and could also benefit from a heads-up.

Harry didn't respond immediately to Ron's warning or even to his wife's smirk. He was already checking as carefully as possible for any signs of traps or even the use of magic. As far as he could tell, other than the concealment spell, there were no enchantments, curses or other residual spells nearby. "I don't feel anything out of the ordinary," he stated.

"Neither do I," affirmed Luna. "I feel quite safe here." She let go of Ron's wheelchair and looked about more closely.

"So why ..." began Hermione before catching herself. She peered down at the table. Walking around to the opposite side, she gingerly dabbed her finger against the top. Holding it up, she stated, "Ink." A tiny smudge had affixed itself to her left index finger. "It's not quite dry." She pulled her wand and cleaned her finger.

"So?" said Ron. At any given moment, at least a hundred such drops could be found around Hogwarts.

"A witch or wizard was writing in here," explained Hermione. "Recently. Muggles don't use quills. The people we see here are doing more than looking around. They're writing down information."

Harry also dabbed his finger in the ink; presumably to aid his understanding of the underlying purpose. He wiped it on his cloak before asking, "Why is Voldemort going to the trouble of doing something like that here and not at any of the other locations we've checked?"

"I don't know," answered Hermione. "I wonder if this is a serious threat against the Queen?"

"And if it is," added Ron, "what can we do about it?"

"We'll have to tell Rufus about it, tonight," said Hermione. "He might want to add some extra security here."

"We could do the same," said Harry. "If this place is of special interest to Voldemort, we'd better take it seriously."

"We'll have to go back and recheck everyone we've captured to see if they might know why Windsor Castle has this secret room," said Ron.

"Oh, no," exclaimed Harry, an unwelcome realization taking root. "How do we know that there aren't secret rooms at all the _other_ locations we've already checked."

Ron groaned. "That's right. For all we know, everyplace is set up like this." He sighed. Leaning back and looking up into Luna's face, he said, beratingly, "I hope you're proud of yourself."

Luna smiled, knowing he was just kidding. "Surely it won't be too terribly difficult to just double check."

"I hope you feel that way in a month," said Harry. "I think we've just proven that we won't be of any use doing the checking. It'll have to be you."

"That'll be an ego bruiser," harrumphed Hermione. "Following Luna around like idiots, having her ask 'Do you see this door? Do you see that one?' It'll be like we were two again."

"So how did you see this door in the first place?" asked Harry, pointing at the entrance of the storage room.

"I don't know," replied Luna. "It was always there, as far as I could tell."

"It's probably that bloody inner eye acting up, again," said Hermione.

"You seem to have a lot of pent up anger towards me, all of a sudden," said Luna. "Have I done something to upset you?" She seemed to be genuinely concerned.

"Oh, no," said Hermione, immediately putting her hand on Luna's. "It isn't your fault at all. Not really." She stopped for a second to compose her answer.

"I'm involved though," said Luna. "Perhaps upset isn't the right word. I think frustrated would be more accurate." As usual, she had hit the nail on the head.

Hermione sighed. After a moment, she said, "You're right. I'm frustrated, but not by you. It's what you've done. A month or so ago, we had thought we had all the horcruxes identified and then you showed us we have no idea how many may be out there. So we're out and about, today; seeing if we can find some of the possible ones and all of a sudden, you inadvertently reveal that we'll probably have to recheck everywhere we've already been. You'll have to be involved, of course. I think my mind was just off wondering what else you might come up with to make things harder and my temper decided to kill the messenger."

"I don't have to come along," said Luna, apologetically. "I just thought it would be nice to get out of the castle for an afternoon. If I'm making things harder..."

"Oh, don't think that," interrupted Hermione, quickly. "In the long run, it's wonderful you can help. If you didn't point these things out, we could waste years searching without knowing if we'd walked right by an excellent clue on the second trip."

"I suppose I would be able to help with that," mused Luna. "There might be other problems, though."

"Like what?" asked Ron.

"Like making Honey upset," replied Luna. "She wasn't happy that I came along, you know."

"She suggested it," said Hermione.

"She was testing Ron," said Luna. "Honey knows that I had a crush on Ron a couple of years ago. I don't know how. Anyway, she wanted to see if Ron would object to my coming along. He didn't."

"So I failed this crazy test?" asked Ron. He didn't even know he should have been studying.

"Only in not forbidding me to come along at all," said Luna. "She seemed satisfied that I'd be pretending to be your sister instead of your girlfriend or wife. I'd have to act differently to create any sort of romantic illusion and she wouldn't have liked that, at all."

"I wouldn't blame her," said Hermione. She had had quite enough experience with women getting a bit too friendly with Harry. They weren't all pretending, either.

"Fortunately," said Harry, "you'll probably have different traveling companions in the future. We already know that anyplace we've visited doesn't have a hidden horcrux. You'll just need someone with you to see if anyplace you notice is hidden from them."

Luna considered this for a moment. "I think Hermione might be right. Whoever came with me would have to act like an idiot; chattering on constantly about whatever they saw. I could then cross-reference it with my own experience."

"I'm sure we'll think of someone who'd be willing to do it," said Ron. "It wouldn't be a difficult assignment, after all. Just talking non-stop." He pondered this thought for just a moment before looking up, hesitantly.

Harry and Hermione also remained contemplative for the merest period before they, too, looked up in understanding. "I'll ask her when we get back," said Hermione.

* * *

Three o'clock, back in Scotland

When the traveling companions returned to Hogwarts, Ron went to check on his wife while the rest of them made their way to the office of the Fortress of Solitude. It contained the potion necessary for countering the dragon speech enchantment. Although it was nearing the planned time to pick up Minerva, Rufus and Greta, along with Hagrid and Kristy, before leaving for Muck, they still had to wait a bit for Ron and Honey to decide if she was up to this less taxing trip and picnic. A few snacks and fruits were always on hand on their communal table so Harry grabbed an apple to eat to tide him over before he could partake of the eagerly anticipated sheep.

"Where's that coming from?" asked Hermione, looking around.

"Where's what coming from?" countered Harry, taking his third bite.

"That music," answered Hermione. Luna joined her in searching for the elusive melody. It sounded like whistling, but from far off.

Harry stopped his chewing for a moment to listen, himself. It sounded like an old fashioned novelty tune from the turn of the century. "That sounds familiar," he said, not yet locating its source.

"Fairly peppy," added Luna, tapping her toes. "It sounds like it's coming from that way." She pointed towards the elf map room. Harry got up to investigate but only took a few steps before solving the mystery. "It's coming from Grandpa's picture." He listened closely for a moment before saying. "Definitely." Raising his voice, he called, "Grampa."

The whistling didn't stop but quickly grew louder. When Grampa came into view, he was still whistling but was also grooming his hair with a brush that Hermione recognized from a still life hanging in the North Tower. "Hello, everyone," he said, taking a break from his tune to also brush his beard.

"Hi, Grampa," said Harry. "What's up with the brushing?"

"I've got a date," answered Grampa, throwing his newly untangled hair evenly behind his shoulders.

"That explains the gay tune," said Hermione, nodding.

"No," corrected Grampa. "It's with a girl."

"A girl?" asked Harry.

"Endora," elaborated Grampa. "She's the milkmaid from the Vermeer near the kitchens."

"The milkmaid?" asked Hermione, skeptically. "Isn't she a bit... er, _young_ for you?"

"Actually," said Grampa, "_she's_ the cradle robber. I think she's about twice my age."

"Somehow I don't think her advanced years will be a problem," said Harry, smirking. "Where are you taking her?"

"There's a new Kippenberger of a Paris bar that I've been wanting to try out," answered Grampa, stroking his beard. "It has the interesting feature of having other paintings hanging on the wall. After that, maybe we'll head over to a Lautrec and take in a show."

"Sounds lovely," commented Luna.

"I agree," agreed Harry. "Need for me to paint any extra galleons?"

"No," said Grampa. "She insisted on going Dutch."

"That's it," exclaimed Hermione. "Let's go check on Honey and Ron. It's time to go."

It wasn't, really, but Hermione was starting to imagine the puns Harry _would_ be tossing out if he was as knowledgeable about art as she and the fact that he wasn't actually saying anything didn't matter. With a few wishes of 'good luck' to Grampa, the group left to collect the rest of their party.

* * *

Awhile later in the dining room of the Caro's home.

Mort Caro was thinking about just how lucky he was to have a wife like Parry. It was a normal, run-of-the-mill Saturday afternoon, after all, and his thoughtful wife had decided to prepare a very elaborate tea-time meal with all of his favorite dishes, along with his most appreciated deserts. His favorite, of course, was the fruit crumble and custard. This would normally constitute the bulk of a meal served in the mid-afternoon, but Parry was feeling generous, it seemed. Mort had no more that dropped the fork on the plate when a heaping platter of roast beef, roast potatoes, green beans and gravy was set before him. Not wishing to seem unappreciative, Mort had managed to finish it; but only just. Parry, not yet finished with the spoiling of her husband, then cut him a huge slice of raspberry trifle with a piece of home-made fudge on the side. All of this was washed down with not one, but two pints of his favorite dinner bitter; Wychwood Hobgoblin.

Mort and Parry's daughter, Ellie, although not as much of a fan of walnut fudge as her father, had still helped him partake of the other offerings laid out on their dining room table, although not to the same degree. Parry, however, didn't seem to have much of an appetite.

"Everything is excellent," said Mort, quite sated. "Please, sit down and join us, dear." He patted the seat next to him encouragingly.

"Oh, that's alright," replied Parry, half a smile on her lips. "I'm not really very hungry."

"Oh, Mum," chimed in Elenore. "At least have some of the trifle. It'll cheer you up."

Parry Caro had been getting further and further down in the dumps all week. Mort had assumed it was just a case of the frumps due to the approaching winter but now had his doubts. As Christmas approached, perhaps she was feeling the loss of Lamont more deeply, again. Their other child, Ellie, had noticed the change, as well, and had been making an effort to cheer her mother up all week, now that he thought of it. Nothing seemed to have worked.

"Mum's fine," lied Mort. "She's probably just tired from making this glorious meal for us." He smiled at his wife, but she didn't reciprocate. Thinking quickly, he suggested, "I think we should do the dishes, tonight, Ellie. It'll give Mum a well-earned rest."

"Oh, that's not necessary," protested Parry, immediately. "I don't mind." Again, she put forth that half of a smile.

"We insist," said Ellie, jumping up to clear the dishes. "You just go sit down, listen to the WWW and relax. Dad and I'll take care of this." Without waiting for further arguments, she took the first load to the kitchen.

Mort took the opportunity to ask, quietly, "What's the matter, dear? You've been depressed all week." He went to put his arms around her but she quickly pulled away.

"I'm fine," she repeated, sniffing back a tear at his offer of comfort. She knew she'd need that more than ever in the coming weeks but he wouldn't be there.

"I'll tell you what," said Mort as Ellie came back to gather more dishes, "we'll take a day trip, tomorrow. Find a nice spot and have a picnic; just the three of us. How does that sound?" He put his arm around her, again. This time, she didn't resist.

"Oh, I'd like that," said Ellie, enthusiastically. It's supposed to be fairly nice; maybe for the last time this year." She put her arms around her father in appreciation for such a cracker of an idea.

Parry didn't respond, as she normally would, with agreement and cheer. She didn't really respond at all. She knew that, agree or not, there would be no picnic. For now, though, she would stick with the script. "Of course," she said with a somewhat upbeat tone to her voice. "I think that would be lovely." She forced a smile to her lips and hugged her family.

"That's great," said Mort. "I'll send an owl into the office and let Rufus know I won't be on duty, tomorrow. I've got some time coming so there shouldn't be any problems." He kissed his wife and left to send the note.

Ellie left to finish the dishes, leaving Parry by herself, for the moment. Deciding that tears were coming, she also left to find a quiet spot where she could collect herself before continuing to make her husband's last day a happy one.

* * *

"Be a dear and toss another Jumbuck on the Barbie," said Kristy. "I need to take a butcher at the billabong." Without waiting for a reply, she took off towards the southern bay.

Winky stared blankly before turning, once again, towards Hermione.

"Get someone to cook a sheep," explained Hermione, "and prepare it for her. She's getting a drink, I think."

"Yes, mistress," replied Winky. She started to turn to find someone capable of fetching and 'barbecuing' a sheep, when a volunteer stepped up to the pitch.

"I'll get the sheep," said Sorcha. She and Osgar had never had an ankle biter so she was enjoying this opportunity to spoil one. Without further delay, she took off.

"She's pickin' up talkin' right quick, inna she?" commented Hagrid, proudly. "Don unnerstan haffa what she's goin' on about, though."

"Takes after her daddy," quipped Harry. Ron and Rufus both laughed with Honey nearly getting sprayed by a mouthful of Ron's butter beer.

"Ah dinnae see whit's sae funny," said McGonagall, straight faced. She could only hold it a moment, though, before Rufus' smirk caused her to break into a grin. He leaned over and took the opportunity to plant a bushy one on her.

Hermione watched as Kristy skimmed over the lake; the tiniest disturbance visible upon the surface. "You're right to be proud, Hagrid," she said. "Kristy's turning out just fine."

"Of course she is," agreed Caoimhe, eyeing the supply of soon-to-be honey-roasted sheep. "Most dragons do. I _am_ a bit concerned about her size, though. Are you feeding her enough, Hagrid?" She reached over and took a particularly plump morsel from her latest snack.

"I would 'ope so," said Hagrid, following suit, although he did take the time to scrape some of the wool off with his knife. "She goes through abou' twenty roast'n chickens a day, plus the odd coney er three, when she can catch 'em."

"Kristy won't get very big," added Hermione. "She's an Australian Reef Skimmer. They usually top out at about ten feet."

She looked up as Sorcha flew in and dropped a freshly roasted ewe in front of Winky.

"Poor little dear," commented Eithne. "That'll be a problem when it comes to mating." The other girls, including the human ones, all nodded and muttered their agreement.

"What'll be a problem?" asked Sorcha, snugging back into the group.

"Kristy's size," explained Ceana. "She won't get much bigger, so we were worried about what she'll do when she's ready to mate."

"Bloody hell," exclaimed Sorcha. "That won't be for what? Two or three years, at least?"

"Two an'a 'avf," said Hagrid. "That's jus' til she's being of age, an all."

"Well," said Harry, "I can see why you'd want everything figured out quickly. She's almost a month old, after all."

"Girls think about these things sooner than boys," explained Hermione. "I remember pretending my dolls were my children when I was four. I'm sure that I've got some books squirreled away for the real ones, as well."

"I'll bet they're history books," said Ron. "God help them." Harry and Honey both sniggered at this.

"No, they aren...; well, most of them aren't, Ronald," replied Hermione, icily.

"Just be sure they're age appropriate, Hermione," suggested Minerva. "I read one to Greta that she didn't like at all. I'm sure you'll all remember how that turned out." Harry had nearly blown Rufus' house down to 'save' Greta. They all looked instinctively over to where Greta was watching the 'boys' racing across the lake.

"Speaking of stories with bad endings," said Harry, turning to Rufus, "on one of our little expeditions, this morning, we found a gardener's storage room that's being used, or at least has been used in the past by Death Eaters."

"It's still being used," interrupted Hermione. "Remember the ink?"

"Oh, that's right," agreed Harry. "It's still being used."

"Without sounding ungrateful for the news," said Rufus, "so what?"

"The room is inside the outer wall of Windsor Castle," explained Ron.

"Oh," said Rufus, taking a greater interest. "That's a little more important, I guess. Do you have any ideas on why it's there?"

"Not yet," replied Hermione. "We're planning on talking to some of our prisoners who'd visited there."

Rufus sat back for a moment, thinking. "When you have something, tell Tonks. Her vacation is over, as of now. She's the perfect liaison for this sort of thing; you trust her and I trust her. I'll assign her to report directly to Jack, temporarily. I'll speak with him when we get back."

"We're not sure it's anything serious," said Ron. "So far, we only know they're visiting the place."

"Everything's serious when it concerns the security of the Queen," countered Rufus. "I'm not planning on leaving her out there as bait."

"I can't say I disagree," said Harry. "In fact," he continued, rubbing his chin to jump-start his brain, "we didn't think it'd be all that useful, but our research team has something that should take care of the problem quite nicely." He smiled that grin that Hermione knew only too well.

* * *

Just past dusk at the Caro house.

"What's wrong?" Mort was quite concerned with the sudden agitation that his wife was exhibiting.

"I can't..." she began, tears running down her cheeks. "I... so sorry." She turned to run from the room but Mort grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her back towards him.

"What is it?" he demanded, pulling her hands from her face.

Parry instinctively looked up and threw her arms around him. "I'm so sorry," she wailed.

Mort was seriously considering taking her to St. Mungo's when his proximity detector went off. Looking up at the device, he saw that eight wizards had entered his perimeter. Pulling his wand, he incanted "Dormus Protectus Maxima" before running to peer out his front door.

"No!" shouted Parry, dropping to the floor. "No! No! No!" She screamed in despair. Ellie, having heard the frantic cries, came running from her room.

"What is..." she began but was interrupted.

"Death Eaters!" shouted Mort. He permanently fused his door to the wall and ran to gather up his family. "Come along," he ordered, pulling Parry up to her feet. "We've got to go."

Boom! The first spell hit the front door. So far, it held due to the charms placed on it.

Mort pulled them over to their fireplace and threw in some floo powder while shouting "The Ministry." Nothing happened. "Damn!" he cursed, tossing in some more, just to make sure.

"Daddy!" cried Ellie, frightened. Another blast hit the house.

"Go to the cellar," said Mort, again pulling along his inexplicably reluctant wife. Mort turned and cast a powerful blasting charm at the weakened door, causing the fragments to temporarily scatter the attackers.

"Go, Ellie," shouted Parry, suddenly coming out of her stupor in time to try to save her daughter. Ellie turned and ran down the stairs.

"Let's go," said Mort, pushing his wife to follow while pulling his badge and quickly activating the emergency distress signal.

"We can't," said Parry, pushing back. "They'll follow you. Ellie might be hurt."

"Incendio!" shouted Mort as the first black robed figure rolled through the doorway and cast an erratically aimed Avada Kedavra that struck the sideburn to their left. "Go!" he shouted, attempting to push Parry down the stairs. "Help is on the way. We can hold them off better down there."

The screams from the burning Death Eater were overpowered by the shouts of his companions as three of them tumbled into the entranceway using their wands to provide a protective flood.

"Stupify!" shouted Mort at the closest one. He was trying to back down the stairs when Parry sprang around him and ran into the spare bedroom.

"Parry!" shouted Mort, unsure of what to do. "Reducto!" he cast at the ceiling over the remaining Death Eaters. His and Parry's bedroom dresser came crashing through the rubble.

"Sectumsempra," hissed a new Death Eater as he leapt upon the bodies of his less fortunate comrades.

"Ouch!" said Mort as his left leg was ripped open. "Petrificus Totalis!" The new man fell stunned and was impaled by an unfortunate piece of splintered wood.

"Hurry," shouted a voice from outside. "Aurors. Aurors are coming."

Mort sighed in relief. Help had arrived. "We're okay, now," he called to his family. "Everything's..." He stopped; staring in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," said Parry, barely louder that a whisper. "They have to win. They'll kill us all if I don't." Her wand was pointing directly at Mort. Blast after blast was heard from outside along with more shouts.

"Parry," he said, shocked. "What's..."

"This way," shouted a familiarly gruff voice that was just outside.

"I'm sorry," said Parry. "Avada Kedavra."

* * *

Author's note:

I should be getting back to regular postings. The Breakfast with Santa is over now. I am still on seven day weeks on one job and five on my part time one but without having to organize the fundraiser, things should loosen up a bit. I didn't re-read this chapter in its entirety but I'm sure my loyal readers will find all my mistakes. Until next time...

Dad


	98. Chapter 98

Chapter 98 - Stop the Presses

November 15th, 1997

"Me first, idiot," shouted Dawlish as he pulled someone backwards before leading the way through the door. "Stupify!" The beam hit the closest Death Eater but caused no further reaction; he was dead, already. Seeing the shards of the now smashed dresser piercing the man in multiple points, Jack gave him no further concern as he rolled over the relatively smooth surface of a crushed table and peered around the corner of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "Hold on, Mort!" he called back as he checked the other rooms. Mort, his eyes still open along with having no physical damage to his upper torso, looked as healthy as you could with a long gash down your leg. Due to the recentness of his death, blood still oozed a bit from the wound.

Parry had turned and watched Jack proceed with his task of securing the house when the voice of the second rescuer through the door startled her to the point of dropping her wand.

"Parry," said Rufus, wand still in hand as he knelt next to her. "Get Ellie. We need to ... get..." He stopped, realizing that his old friend wasn't just resting or unconscious. "Mort," he mouthed, softly. He heaved a sigh filled with the pain of a lifetime of similar meetings. His eyes automatically moistened and the first, single tear began it's journey before he could stop it. Then his training and experience kicked in and he stood up. "Where's Ellie?" he asked, his voice a bit gruffer than before.

"I'm here," answered Ellie from the stairwell. "Uncle Rufus? Is it over? Are we all safe, now?" She came up the stairs and ran to her oddly unresponsive mother.

"You're safe," confirmed Rufus. "They might come back, though. We need to get you and your mother to someplace safer." He reached down and offered Parry a hand as a few other aurors, along with a pair of red-cloaked elves, also entered and secured various parts of the house.

"Daddy, you're hurt," cried Ellie, reaching out for her father. At this point, Parry seemed to awaken from her shock and grabbed her daughter.

"Daddy's dead," she said, without hesitation. "We need to look after our own safety, now."

"Daddy!" screamed Ellie, pulling free from Parry. She flung her arms around her father but, for the first time ever, he failed to respond in kind. "Daddy!" She clung even tighter, her tears beginning to soak Mort's shirt.

Harry entered the room at this moment. Looking at the scene, he approached Rufus, quietly making his report. "There's three dead and two wounded outside. We think that another two managed to escape when we arrived. Jumper and Shacklebolt have secured the area but he thinks we should get out before more Death Eaters come back."

Rufus stood up straight but remained turned away from Harry. Despite the danger, he needed a few moments to compose himself. Ellie's cries weren't helping. Harry could sense this, of course, and waited patiently until Jack also had returned.

"We have to go," said Harry, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. "Where should we take them?"

Jack, although plummeting from his initial thought that they had arrived in time as he realized that Mort was dead and shaken by the grief of his friend's family, nevertheless took charge. "The Ministry's the safest place," he decided. "Auror Headquarters, at least for now."

"The Ministry?" asked Parry. "Shouldn't we go into protective custody?"

"Eventually," said Rufus. "We'll have to make arrangements, of course." Turning to Jack, he quietly said, "I don't think Parry and Ellie need to be surrounded by a dozen aurors discussing this attack. Take her to my house for tonight. We'll get her squared away tomorrow."

"Sounds good," said Jack. Raising his voice slightly, he said, "Let's go, Parry. We'll get the two of you out of here." He offered his hand which Parry took.

"N... no, Uncle Jack," sputtered Ellie between sobs. "We can't just leave Daddy." She hadn't yet let go of her father.

Harry had never met Mort but the circumstances seemed clear enough. "Ellie," said Harry, injecting himself into the conversation, "your father fought off all of these men in order to save you and your mother. His love for the two of you and the courage he showed meant he wanted for you to be safe. Right now, it's up to us to finish that job for him. Some of the men who attacked your family got away and he wouldn't want you to be here if they came back." Harry glanced at Parry for confirmation but was taken aback by her look. He assumed he was misinterpreting her mood but she seemed to be holding back a great deal of anger. That would, of course, be quite natural, given the circumstances but Harry had the feeling that he was the target of her ire. No. He was just imagining things. Shaking off that train of thought, he returned his attention to the task at hand.

"Here you go," said Jack, pulling Parry to her feet. Mrs. Caro then aided Rufus in pulling Ellie away.

"All right, then," said Rufus. "To my house." He addressed the guard at the remains of the doorway. "All secure?" They would need to walk past the house's anti-apparition ward before leaving.

"There is being no other bad wizards near here, Minister Rufus," said Gilly, before the human auror could reply. Gilly had the added advantage of currently being in contact with Jumper and the other four members of his team so his information was the most complete and up to date.

"Let's go, then," said Parry, grabbing her purse and taking Ellie's hand. To Harry, she seemed to be more like someone irritated by the delay in leaving than upset by the necessity.

"We can send them by elf," he offered. "That would be the safest."

Rufus considered this briefly before agreeing. "That's a good idea. No exposure at all."

"But what about Daddy?" asked Ellie, pulling close to Parry.

"We'll take care of him," said Rufus, gently. "For tonight, at least, we need to take care of you and your mother." He motioned for Harry to get the required elves.

"Gilly. Flower," said Harry, addressing the nearest elves. "Jumper knows the location of Rufus's house. Once you get that from him, take these two there and wait with them until either Rufus or Jumper says you can leave."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Gilly. He and Flower approached Parry and Ellie. "Please be giving Gilly and Flower permission to be popping you to the Minister's house, Mistresses," he requested.

"Yes, for both of us," said Parry, brusquely. She extended her hand to Gilly.

"Loxley will know what to do to see to their needs," added Rufus.

"Yes, Master Rufus," agreed Gilly. He then returned his attention to the surviving Caros.

Ellie looked back one last time at Mort, an action that Parry did not acknowledge or replicate, before taking Flower's hand. With a pair of pops, they were gone.

* * *

Rufus, Jack and Harry all stood quietly for several seconds. Although well acquainted with them both, Harry knew he was the outsider at this moment. He discretely removed himself to the doorway; ostensibly to confer with the elf and auror standing guard. Harry wasn't acquainted with the young wizard but he also seemed to understand that a minute of inactivity was necessary for the elder men in the room.

Rufus and Jack both stared at Mort, silently. Eventually, Rufus raised his arm and patted Jack on the shoulder. They then knelt down to check out Mort's body.

"It looks like the Avada to me," said Rufus, his years of experience kicking in. The eyes, of course, have that look that you only get from that spell."

"I agree," said Jack. He could only look Mort in the eye for a second before having to turn away. "I'll... I mean you should go to the morgue and arrange for a pick-up."

Rufus looked up. "Me? Why not you, or someone else?"

Jack turned and gave Rufus a stern look. "Because you're the Minister of Magic," he explained. "You shouldn't be here at all. This might have been a trap. It still could be. We don't know if those bastards who got away are coming back with reinforcements right now. I'm the senior _active_ auror present so _I'm_ in charge."

Rufus stepped back, affronted, so Jack went on. "If the roles were reversed," he indicated Mort and himself, "he'd say the same thing." His voice softened a bit before he finished with, "I'll finish up here. You need to see to Parry and Ellie. That's where your concern should be, right now."

Rufus looked like he wanted to say something more but, in the end, just nodded. "You're right, of course. About everything." He looked one last time upon the body of Mort before turning towards Harry and the doorway. "Jake," he said to the young auror stationed there. "Go to the morgue and have them pick up...." He pointed his thumb backwards over his shoulder.

"Yes, Minister," replied Jake. He turned to walk out of the anti-apparition area before departing.

"Rufus," said Harry, softly, "I'm so sorry about your friend. If there's anything I can do, just say it." He put his hand on Rufus' shoulder in comfort.

"There is," said Rufus. "Give me a lift home. I need to see to his family."

"No problem," agreed Harry. "Tripper."

"Yes, Harry Potter," answered Tripper, a moment later.

"Notify Remus that a mother and daughter will be moving into one of our above ground flats. Have him get everything prepared."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Tripper just before he popped off.

"We'll be ready whenever they are," said Harry, offering his hand to Rufus.

Rufus paused before saying, with a constricted throat, "It never gets easier; losing old friends."

"I know," said Harry, sadly. He thought of Dumbledore, Dobby, Sleepy, Slider and Curly. Even Draco had become a friend, in the end.

"I suppose you have," agreed Rufus. He took Harry's hand and they popped off.

* * *

November 16th, 1997

Early the next morning.

"Actually," retorted Hermione to Harry's last comment, "I _do_ understand." She, along with the majority of the inner circle plus Martha had gathered in the office of the Fortress of Solitude before breakfast to discuss the previous night's Death Eater attack and the fallout in a slightly more open manner than could be achieved in the Great Hall, despite the protection offered by the Muffliato Spell. Both Minerva and Rufus were absent. Rufus was comforting Parry and Ellie while Minerva was comforting Rufus. Currently occupying one of the guest suites in the Minister's Mansion, the surviving Caros would be relocated to one of their secure flats attached to the school that morning and Harry was filling them all in on the details on the situation after the attack had ended. Hermione continued. "My first response to _your_ death was to deny it. As I'm sure everyone around me knew quite well, you were dead. I, on the other hand, chose denial and stuck with it, despite the mounting evidence that there was no way you could still be alive. Mrs. Caro had a different first response; protecting her child. She had actually seen that her husband had died, you see, so she couldn't take my route. Once she charted that course, she didn't waver."

"I understand that," said Harry. "All I'm saying is that it was a bit sudden. We weren't inside ten seconds before she was asking to be placed in protective custody."

"She would have probably heard about that countless times from Mort," explained Tonks. "Something along the lines of 'They're safe now; we've placed them in protective custody.' She'd automatically want to take her daughter to that same sort of safety."

"I suppose," agreed Harry. "She just didn't seem to have any emotion about it all. It was like she..."

"You're bloody lucky she didn't," said Remus. "With her and her daughter to evacuate, along with the possibility of Death Eaters returning at any moment, the last thing you needed would be a hysterical woman on your hands."

"She's probably getting there, by now," said Martha. "Once she and her daughter were safe, she'd have had time to let it all sink in." Martha had, of course, more than her share of experience with that sort of thing.

"That poor woman," said Honey. "At least she has her daughter."

"That's all she has left," said Hermione. "Her son was turned by Voldemort last summer, probably with the loyalty enchantment. He died at the attack on Hogsmeade, on our wedding day."

"Oh," said Luna, finally getting into the conversation. "That might explain her lack of emotion, as well as her desire to leave." She then resumed her silent contemplations.

"Uh, what do you mean?" asked Harry, looking between Luna and Hermione.

"You killed her son," explained Luna. "Whether or not it was your fault wouldn't matter. The murder of her husband would have brought back her feelings from when her child had died. With you coming in so quickly, it would just be too much. She'd probably want to get away from you as soon as possible."

"Fair enough," said Harry. "I wasn't going to bring it up, but I sort of sensed that she didn't care much for my company. Now that Luna's given a reasonable reason for that, it's more understandable. Although, it might have been someone else who killed her son. The people who lived in town took out a lot, if I remember correctly."

"They stunned most of theirs," corrected Hermione, "although a few were killed. I think I killed four or five. All in all, you probably had about a seventy percent chance of being the one who actually killed him."

"That seems a little high," mused Harry. "Are you counting the trolls?"

"No," answered Hermione, impatiently at the unnecessary sidetrack. "Now, they'll be coming in when, Remus?"

"Around noon," answered Lupin. He had been in contact with Mary Geneva, the witch in charge of the Ministry's end of protective services, and had ordered the preparation of a flat for the new arrivals.

"Good," continued Hermione. "Luna and I should probably go with you when you help them settle in. I'd think that, under the circumstances that Luna brought up, Harry should miss this first meeting."

"Is is absolutely necessary that I attend," asked Luna, unexpectedly. "If Ginny and Neville agree to help out, I'd like to start visiting some of the Death Eater's apparition points today. I have a full schedule and will probably only be able to take time off during the weekends."

Hermione said, "Well, I suppose it could just be Remus and me, this time. Alright, then. It's almost time for breakfast so I guess that's all for now."

Normally, it would be Harry to call a meeting to a close, but as Hermione was right, no one objected.

* * *

A while later, in an office in London.

"The general tone of the story was along my master's desired lines," allowed Mr. Nott, "at least in regards to the bravery of Caro. The implications of Scrimgeour's complicity were, although a bit unsubtle, sufficient to plant some seeds of doubt about his role. You fell a bit short, however, in addressing the unwillingness of any of the other aurors to respond to offer aid to someone who had been reported to be on the outs with the Ministry. You also barely mentioned Potter at all." Nott had a lifeless quality to his voice that failed to give any clues as to just how much more the story should have been changed to meet the de facto editorial staff's needs.

"We attempted to slant the story to give the impression that Caro had fought for a lengthy period before help arrived," argued a quite distressed Barnabus Cuffe, "but the few interviews that were able to be obtained last night didn't lend themselves to draw the type of conclusions that..."

"Excuse me," said Nott, rising. As he did so, one of the other, more menacing presences in the room also took a step forward. Besides the two guards that would be normal security for such a visit, Macnair, his ubiquitous axe resting on his shoulder, was sent to provide the proper gravitas to the meeting. "Don't misinterpret your parts in this. You write the story," informed Nott, pointing a finger at Rita. "You publish them," he continued, indicating Cuffe, sitting nearby. "The content is determined by my, and for the time being, _your _master." Snape was much better at subtle intimidation than Nott, especially since the death of his son. With both his wife and child having met the same fate, the elder Nott had lost most of his emotional range, not to mention his persuasive abilities. He was still loyal and competent enough to fill in on short notice when Lord Voldemort had become displeased with the latest Daily Prophet article. Snape was currently busy recovering from a somewhat minor, though painful, curse that Scrimgeour had inflicted him with as he fled the scene of the attack on Caro.

"I understand that," continued Rita. "Perhaps if your master's orders didn't contradict themselves, I'd be better able to meet his needs." Rita understood the nature of her situation and had decided that if she were to get into trouble with You-Know-Who, it would at least be her own fault. "I was ordered to slant my stories as directed but only as far as it could be done believably."

Macnair shifted his axe menacingly, but Nott seemed more accommodating. "Very well," he said. "Perhaps we should review the circumstances and reevaluate what is possible in tomorrow's follow-up."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall

"I think that'll be great fun," said Ginny. "Don't you, Neville"

"Well," began Neville, "I..."

"Good," said Luna. "I was hoping to start after breakfast, if you don't have other plans."

"Why so soon?" asked Ginny. She had only just started to put jam on her toast.

"Well," said Luna, also preparing her modest breakfast, "both of us, and Neville, too, I suppose, have quite a bit of work to do to keep up with our classes. I doubt that we'd be able to do any traveling during the week and, quite frankly, don't expect to have more than one day free during the weekends. Also, the weather will start to turn on us fairly soon so I just didn't want to miss the opportunity for today."

"You didn't have time to do your homework yesterday," countered Ron. "Why don't you have to do it today, instead?"

"I did it yesterday," said Luna. "In my head while we were on our tours. All I had to do was write everything down and I finished that up last night."

"I'm impressed," said Harry. "Why, even Hermione can't do that." He smirked at his wife.

"I always do that," corrected Hermione. "How else do you think I managed to write the homework for three students?" She looked up as the owls began to arrive with the morning mail.

"Three students?" asked Honey. "Why did you do that?" She also had to pause, waiting for two owls to make their run towards her. One dropped the Daily Prophet while another let a letter from her mother fall into Honey's lap.

"I wonder," said Hermione, sarcastically. "I suppose it was easier than letting Ron and Harry fail every class since first year." She unrolled her paper, indicating that she had made her last comment for at least ten minutes. Fifteen, if she did the crossword.

"They have an article on the attack," said Harry. It hadn't taken long for him to avoid the irritation of having to wait and just spring for the extra knuts for a second paper.

'Uh, oh,' thought Hermione, already reading the third paragraph.

Hero Auror Murdered

Auror Mort Caro, who just ten days ago led a successful raid on a group of Death Eaters intent on the capture or murder of Prime Minister Tony Blair, was himself the victim of an assassination. Early yesterday evening, while most of the wizarding world was just sitting down to supper, up to a dozen of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters attacked the residence of Caro. The official cause of this attack has yet to be determined but there is little chance that it was anything but retribution for thwarting the aforementioned attack on the Prime Minister.

The details indicate that only a few seconds of warning were given. A short message requesting help was able to be sent by Mr. Caro but no further communications were received. As no eyewitnesses to the attack have come forth, it is unclear just how long it took for help to arrive. From descriptions of the damage done to the Caro residence, it is assumed that at least several minutes had passed before any response to his distress call was made. The cause of this delay is, as yet, unknown, but the effect is not. By the time help finally arrived, Auror Mort Caro had been killed. By fate or design, the Death Eater attack was not driven off until it had achieved its goal.

So much time had passed, in fact, that a few aurors, speaking on the condition of anonymity, mentioned that the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, had arrived before they had. Scrimgeour, our readers might remember, had a less than close relationship with Caro since Caro's son, Lamont, had joined the Death Eaters early last summer. The obviously unrealistic assertion made by auror Jack Dawlish that Scrimgeour had dropped everything upon receiving the distress call and had rushed to the aid of the target of his persecution is only another reason why several members of the Wizengamot that this reporter contacted late last night have indicated that they will be calling for an independent investigation into any complicity that Scrimgeour might have had in the attack.

On a more positive note, it seems that at least one person was keeping more than a casual eye on the non-ministerial activities of the Minister of Magic. Harry Potter had arrived in time to prevent the remaining Death Eaters, and perhaps others, from murdering the rest of the Caro family. Potter had arrived, apparently, just after the Minister and Dawlish. Perhaps he was able to secure the area before Scrimgeour and Dawlish could finish their official story on just how they happened to conveniently be the first at the scene. The official investigation should sort this all out, one would hope.

The last unusual circumstance currently known is that Parricida and Elenore Caro, the wife and daughter of Mort Caro, were taken to the official residence of the Minister of Magic; not to one of the more routine secure locations that would be used in other cases. It will be interesting, no doubt, to hear the reasons behind this last anomaly. More information, on all unknowns, will be printed as it becomes available.

"That bitch!" said Harry in a voice approaching a shout. The localized conversations in the immediate area were stopped suddenly as Harry rose and threw the paper on the table.

"Harry," said Hermione, cautioningly. She could sense a possible; no, make that a probable explosion coming.

"No," said Harry, although she hadn't given him any orders to calm himself. "I was there. I saw Rufus. Jack, too, for that matter. For them to put something like this in the paper..." He was having a hard time expressing the extent of his anger and disgust. Those near him, however, could feel the outrage rising in him through his Fawkes-based projection of emotions.

"Rufus can handle the Prophet," said Hermione, evenly. "Don't make it harder for him by..."

"Harder?" exclaimed Harry. "How could I make it harder? This..." He picked up the paper, again. "I just can't let them get away with this. It's too much." He took a step back.

"Harry," said Hermione, getting to her feet, but she was too late. With a swirl, Harry was gone.

* * *

Back in the offices of the Daily Prophet.

Pop! Harry walked up and grabbed the handle to the door of Cuffe's private office and, after taking just a moment to wandlessly unlock it, stepped inside and closed it; once again turning it into a solid sheet; this time using granite as the medium.

"...emphasize the growing mistrust that the rest..." continued Nott before becoming aware that the meeting was being interrupted. He looked over his shoulder with an annoyed expression. That didn't last long.

"Potter," hissed Macnair, pulling out his axe. The two lower-level Death Eaters, who had just come along for extra security, realized that they had better start to do something, and fast. The farthest from Harry reached into his cloak for his wand while the other one did his best to become the farthest.

Harry, with Macnair quickly raising his axe to his left and an unknown Death Eater reaching for his wand to his right, decided that the wand took precedence. Throwing himself into Macnair to disrupt his swing, Harry cast a bludgeoning spell with just his hand at the other man. It missed but caused him to follow his partner in diving behind Cuffe's desk.

"Avada..." began Nott but stopped as Harry rolled out of sight.

Slice! Klang! went Macnair's axe as it skidded over Harry's chest and hit an old-fashioned steam radiator. Macnair, having lost his footing, took his best shot before hitting the floor.

Harry's robes were damaged and he had a nasty cut on his chest but was otherwise not seriously injured. Pulling even further behind the desk, he noticed that both Cuffe and Rita had attempted, successfully as it turned out, to crawl into the void under the center of Cuffe's desk. Having three unknown attackers somewhere on the far side of the room, he had no choice but to at least inflict some confusion upon them before Macnair could right himself. Pulling his wand, he cast a very powerful blasting charm at the underside of the desktop. The marble sheet splintered into a dozen large and innumerable smaller shards that bounced violently off the walls and ceiling. The remains of the desk bounced off the far wall and collapsed in a heap.

"Help!" shouted Cuffe, crawling quickly over to where his door used to be.

"Avad..." began one of the guards, a low-level thug named Drake, before being instinctively detonated by Harry. In his confusion at having walked into this attack, Harry had forgotten that he had pulled his wand and channeled an incredible amount of power into the spell. The second guard, a more thoughtful man than Drake, had seen the aftermath of such an attack before, at Riddle Manor, but had not been present at the actual casting, of course. With small pieces of his friend covering him, as well as the rest of the room; ceiling included, he took the path of least resistance and vomited all over himself.

Nott, who had spent much of the time since his son's death wondering if he cared whether he lived or died, had the question answered quite clearly and apparated away.

"Petrificus Totalis," cast Macnair, resorting to his wand, but being pleased at the opportunity to capture Harry rather than just kill him. Harry had begun to turn at the start of the spell but was somewhat shocked at what he had just done to the previous man and was therefore unable to respond in time to mitigate the spell. Any opportunity to make a capture of Harry Potter had moved into the realm of extremely unlikely but Macnair had done it! Surely, this would please his master.

Macnair reached out to take Harry's wand but Harry was already casting a non-verbal Accio, unfortunately infused with the memory of what Winky had done in similar circumstances. With a horrible sucking sound, Macnair's bones came flying at Harry. A short, unearthly gurgle was the only sound to pass Macnair's lips before being followed by his teeth and jaw.

The petrification spell lifted with the death of Macnair, Harry turned around to check for other targets. Shaking off an errant eye socket from his wand, he looked about.

"Where's Nott?" he asked the room in general.

The lone remaining Death Eater said nothing but closed his eyes and raised his hands. He was done with this battle but his stomach still had some work to do.

"He left," shrieked Rita, shaking violently and only just able to prevent fainting. She was an experienced reporter but even she chose to keep her eyes closed. She could feel bits of at least one, and now quite probably two of the men who were in the room sliding down her robes, though, and was only just able to prevent herself from joining the Death Eater's activity.

Cuffe, terrified beyond reason, was weakly pounding on the granite. Harry was about to restore the wall before having another thought. "Jumper. Pounder," he said into the air. A moment later, the two elves popped into the room.

"What...ahhh!" shouted Jumper, inadvertently landing on a particularly slippery piece of Drake and hitting the floor on his bum. Looking around, he was forced into an all too common exclamation. "Bloody hell, Harry Potter." He looked like he might become ill.

"Sorry," said Harry. "I need one of you to take this man, here," at this point, he indicated the remaining Death Eater, "to the northern fortress."

Pounder jumped at the opportunity to leave and immediately said, "Yes, Harry Potter." Without much further delay, he gingerly walked across the room and placed his hand on the shoulder of Luke Riley. Within a second, they were both gone.

"Please place an anti-apparition ward on this room," commanded Harry, calmly. "One of them got away and I don't want him coming back with his friends."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Jumper. He gestured while mumbling something. Harry thought he could discern a slight tremble in his arms as well as his voice but let it go. Jumper then asked, "Does Harry Potter wish for Jumper to be cleaning this room?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I'll give you a hand." He then left Jumper to clear away the blood and guts while he repaired the desk and restored the wall.

The moment the door appeared, Cuffe grabbed for the knob and fell out of the room. Rita rose to follow as the office staff helped Cuffe to his feet.

"Just a moment," said Harry, still bleeding from his chest wound although the cut had begun to automatically heal. He spoke disapprovingly as he tossed the paper on the repaired desk. "I want to have a few words with you both about tomorrow's follow-up to this article."

Author's Note: Still on seven day weeks but I did have two days off at Christmas and one for New Year's so I got a little writing done. I'll try to do more but no promises.

Dad


	99. Chapter 99

Chapter 99 - Degrees of Progress

Sunday, November 16th, 1997

In the Dark Lord's stronghold near Seaton Ross.

Voldemort popped out of his pensieve somewhat sooner than either Nott or Snape had expected. Snape had only just begun to feel comfortable, again, after sitting down to wait for his master to finish what had been assumed would be at least two or three viewings of Nott's memory. The sudden need to rise, again, caused him to give an uncontrollable grunt as he struggled back to his feet. His skin was slowly releasing it's nearly unbearable tautness; an aftereffect of the advanced petrification spell that Rufus had hit him with, but he should really have been allowed to stay in bed another day or so.

Nott, on the other hand, didn't make an effort to rise. Of course, the only reward for making the attempt would have been being thrust back down again so it was an easy choice. Unlike most victims of the Cruciatus curse, he actually did look as good as he felt. Covered in blood and numerous cuts, he lay on the floor where Voldemort had left him; in front of the Dark Lord's favorite chair. The external damage, of course, had occurred during the battle at the office of the Daily Prophet. The pain had been inflicted upon his return. Voldemort had not liked his answers to a few simple questions. Is Potter dead? Where's Macnair? Why did you run? It didn't take long to determine that only Luke Riley was still trackable. Macnair was assumed to be dead. When his memory was demanded, Nott knew that his remaining time on Earth was numbered in minutes.

"I am not pleased, Nott," intoned Voldemort, gazing at the broken man splayed out before him. "One half-hearted attack; a few cuts from a splintered desk and you run for home." The sneer of disgust was plain even on his disfigured face.

"Forgive me, Master," groveled Nott. "I was surprised by Potter and acted out of fear."

"No," disagreed Voldemort. "You acted out of cowardice. If fear was your guide, you'd have realized, as you have since discovered, that wasting such an opportunity as four to one odds in a closed room would bring about severe retribution. Perhaps with just a bit of your reluctant assistance, Macnair would still be among the living and Potter would not."

"Macnair may still be..." began Nott.

"He is not!" snapped Voldemort. He paced around the room, now. All of those present did their best to avoid his gaze without appearing to do so. Voldemort had a difficult choice. Nott was one of his most loyal men. His son had died in his service. His loyalty, until today, had been unwavering. He was also one of an ever decreasing number of the old guard. With the loss of Macnair, few were left. Of those, only Snape was exceptionally competent. If he killed Nott, he'd be down three men for the day. Added to those lost during the attack on Caro, he just couldn't afford to do it.

"You have failed me, Nott," began Voldemort, "but I'm feeling generous. You shall live, for now."

"Thank you, master," gushed Nott, attempting to rise to his feet but only making it to his knees. "You won't be sorry, Master."

"Oh, I probably will be," replied Voldemort. "Stay out of my sight for a few days or I might change my mind."

"Yes, Master," answered an incredulous-to-be-alive Nott. He tried once more to stand but, failing that, he began to crawl from the room. "Ouch. Ouch. Ouch."

Voldemort watched for a second before putting his hand to his face in exasperation. Pointing to two nearby minions, he ordered, "Oh, take him to his room." He watched as Nott was dragged off. The other Death Eaters resumed their previous activities.

Voldemort walked over to Snape. "I'm going on a little trip, Severus," he said. "France. Aquitaine to be more exact. Macnair wasn't the most intelligent of my Death Eaters but he did manage to instill the proper attitude in the rest of the men. Now that he's gone, I'll need someone to perform the same service."

"Yes, my lord," answered Snape. "Do you require me to make any arrangements for your expedition?"

"No," answered Voldemort. "It's a simple enough trip. What I wish for you to do, when you recover sufficiently, is to begin to gather and process the information that our expensive new spy has to offer. Make sure not to expose her, but I want some results, and soon."

"Yes, Master," said Snape. "She should be placed in Potter's care today or, at the latest, tomorrow. I'll establish secure communications as soon as possible."

"Very well," answered Voldemort. "Have you finished the adjustment to the maps that I ordered?"

Snape thought about the question for a few seconds. Nothing came to mind. "Adjustment, Master?" he asked.

Voldemort sighed. "Last week. I asked you to adjust the maps to detect house elves. Have you..." He stopped as he noticed the expression on Snape's face.

"I, uh," began Snape, "haven't finished that assignment just yet, Master. It shouldn't be..."

"You forgot all about it, didn't you." It was a statement; not a question.

"Well, I, uh," began Snape, again. "Yes, Master." He hung his head as a sign of contrition.

Voldemort sighed. "Just start on it, Snape. I'll be gone for a week or two. I expect both projects to have advanced significantly by the time I return."

"Of course, Master," said Snape as Voldemort turned and walked briskly out of the room.

* * *

A short time later at Hogwarts

It was nearing 9:00 A.M. when Harry returned to the Great Hall. Despite his point of departure, he had chosen to use a little more discretion on the return trip and had apparated to their usual alcove and walked back through the doors. Only about ten percent of the students remained with most of those involved in small discussion groups. This was fortunate for Harry as he managed to walk back to his place without any other students noticing a few changes from when he had left.

"Feel better?" asked Hermione, acknowledging him but not looking up from a parchment she was reading. She, along with Ron and Honey, had waited for his return.

"A bit," conceded Harry, sitting down. "I..."

"What happened to you?" asked Honey, noticing the cut across his robes.

"What?" asked Harry before following her gaze. Sticking his hand through the hole in his robes and shirt, he explained, "Oh. A few Death Eaters were there when I arrived. Macnair got a swing in before..."

"Macnair?" asked Hermione and Ron, together. Concerned, Hermione reached around and pulled the cut open and took a look at the skin beneath. "It looks like he just missed you."

"Oh, he got me a little," said Harry, reaching over for a breakfast roll. "Maybe a seven or eight inch cut, I guess. That's gone, now." He began to butter his roll.

"So how many were there?" asked Ron.

"Four," said Harry. "Macnair, Nott and two others; probably just guards." He took a bite and looked around at what other items were still available.

"So how did you escape?" asked Honey. She was still shaken up by the attack.

"Escape?" asked Harry, reaching for some milk to go with his roll. Most of the good stuff had been taken. "Oh. I didn't need to. Nott took off after I killed the first guard. The other one gave up and that only left Macnair. Once he was dead, I called Jumper to take the prisoner up north before telling Cuffe and Rita _what I thought about their article._" His voice became more disgusted only at the end.

"I see," said Hermione, trying to remain calm. "I've seen Macnair's axe. How was it you got a slight cut instead of having your head taken off?"

"He didn't get a good angle," explained Harry. "I knocked him over before he could swing while I was working on the others. I was on the floor and he was on the way down so he just chucked it at me."

"I see," repeated Hermione. "So. There were four Death Eaters to start and you killed one. That left three; two of which were still apparently standing. Why didn't those two continue the attack instead of leaving or surrendering?"

"Probably had weak stomachs," answered Harry after a moment. "You see, bits of the first ..."

"Don't tell me what you did," said Hermione, closing her eyes. "I just ate, after all."

"It was better than what happened to Macnair," opined Harry, smiling grimly.

"Thanks for the insight," continued Hermione. "So, Cuffe and Rita were a little more agreeable after all of that, I suppose."

Harry took a sip of his milk before replying. "Rita was," he said. "Cuffe didn't say much. He was still a bit shook up about all of the blood and bones everywhere."

"What a lovely day for a walk," said Honey, rising from her chair. "I'll see you all later." She wandered away, searching her pockets for her bottle of ginger pills while trying her best to think of some other;_ any_ other subject.

"Why were Macnair and Nott there in the first place," asked Ron, joining Harry in eating some pudding; just to be polite, of course.

Harry laughed. "They came to visit for the same reason I did," he explained. "Of course they thought the article didn't go far enough. They wanted to stir up more trouble for Rufus. I told them, Rita and Cuffe, that is, that they'd better back off. I wonder which way they'll go."

"That's a good question," said Hermione. "Logically, they should still side with Voldemort since he's more likely to kill them than you are. After your little demonstration, though, it might be hard to convince them of that."

"That's right," agreed Ron. "I'd bet that, right now, at least, they're probably going to try to please you."

"They don't have to please me," countered Harry. "I don't care what they say as long as it's fair." He slumped back while chewing his fourth roll.

"With Rita reporting, that's a tall order," commented Hermione. She went back to her parchments.

"What've you got there?" asked Harry, looking over her shoulder.

"These are the instructions for the detectors that Fred and George are making," answered Hermione. She turned them around briefly before resuming her explanation. "Both types. They have three of the short range ones done and two of the good ones."

"Where are they?" asked Harry, looking around.

"They thought it'd be better for you or one of the elves to pick them up," said Ron. "We wouldn't want just anyone getting a good look at them."

"I suppose not," agreed Harry. "I'll pop down in a bit and pick them up."

"Don't forget you're back on werewolf duty, today," reminded Hermione.

"Bloody hell," said Harry. "I forgot." He reached for another roll. Sighing, he made a mental note to save any future righteous outbursts against the Prophet for _after_ breakfast. "Oh, well. At least I'm rested up."

"That's right," said Hermione. "You only had the two Death Eater attacks this weekend."

"I didn't do much on the first one, either," added Harry.

"Slacker," chided Ron.

"I'll pop down to the twin's shop first," stated Harry, looking at his watch. "Have the next werewolf ready at ten o'clock."

"Fine," said Hermione. "We'll trade the original detector for the fake one before tonight's cure. Is there anything you'd like to ask our watchers as long as we're there?"

"Not that I can think of off of the top of my head," answered Harry. He looked at Ron.

"I hadn't given it any thought," replied Ron to the implied question. "I'd be interested to know what happened when Nott got back but they wouldn't know anything about it. We have them on tap, anyway. We can ask them tomorrow, if we want."

"I suppose," nodded Hermione. "I'm going to set up a large map of Great Britain next to the statue this afternoon. Meet me there when you get back." She rose and gave Harry a quick kiss before gathering her things.

Harry, not quite finished with his late breakfast, said, "I won't be long." Also standing up, he added, "I think I'll graze over by the Ravenclaw table. They're too smart to overeat."

"Brilliant," said Ron. "I never thought of that." He rose to join him as Hermione, rolling her eyes at the both of them, left the hall.

* * *

Down in the Fortress of Solitude.

"Point me." Hermione's wand spun around and pointed towards the north pole. She tried to remain motionless as she held her hand over the table in front of her. Her wand was nearly parallel with the prime meridian drawn on the map fixed to the top of the table. Nearly, but not exactly.

"Move that corner just a bit to the left," she ordered, indicating the far end of the table.

"Yes, Mistress," said Winky. She had played this game with Hermione for perhaps twenty minutes. Harry had fetched the new Dark Mark locators from Fred and George shortly after finishing his breakfast. The two of them had then cured the first of the next set of werewolves; an elderly, but affable witch by the name of Parvani Selwood. She had needed the youth potion before the treatment but didn't achieve the drop dead gorgeous figure as Kamalia had. She was pleased to be young, though, if only for a day, and had intended to enjoy at least some of it, arthritis free.

That had been two hours earlier and Hermione was beginning to hope that Harry would rise soon and come to help. Her new wand, bought from a friendly, younger wand maker, worked well enough for most spells but she could definitely tell the difference between it and her original Ollivander model whenever fine precision was required. "Point me," she said for what seemed like the hundredth time. Her wand spun once and pointed pretty much in the same direction that it had before. Hermione kept her hand as still as possible as she checked her wand against the newly adjusted map. "Damn it!"

"Trouble at the mill?" asked Martha, coming out of her office; taking a break to stretch her legs.

Hermione tossed her wand down on the table. "I give up," she lied. "I can't seem to get the same reading twice with this piece of junk." She sighed and, after picking up the 'piece of junk', she got back into position. "Point me." The wand tried it's best but failed to meet the expectations of its owner, one more time.

"That's a hiking spell, isn't it?" asked Martha.

"Yes," answered Hermione, deciding to take a break, as well. "It gives you true north, supposedly. For just walking around, it's accurate enough, I suppose, but I need to position this bloody map properly. Then, I'll have to do the same thing in our house in London." The prospect of spending all afternoon to align one map and only having to start all over someplace else didn't please the discouraged witch.

"Hello," greeted Martha, noticing Winky. "I thought I knew every elf at Hogwarts, but I don't believe we've met."

"Mistress is being correct," said Winky. "Winky is usually being at Hogwarts in Mistress Petunia's glass house, mistress."

"Mistress Petunia?" asked Martha. "Harry's aunt?" She looked between them for confirmation.

"Yes," confirmed Hermione. "I'd expect we'll be seeing a lot more color around here when the flowers start blooming."

"Mistress is being correct, Mistress," replied Winky. "Mistress Petunia and Winky is being having many flowers soon."

"Sounds like a lot of work," commented Martha.

"It is," agreed Hermione. "I don't usually take Winky away from the greenhouse during the day, but I thought this would only take a few minutes." She indicated the table and map with a bit of exasperation. "I suppose you'd better get back to helping Aunt Petunia, Winky. I'll sort this out by myself."

"Mistress Petunia isn't being working in her glass house, today, Mistress," offered Winky.

"She isn't?" asked Hermione.

"No, Mistress," confirmed Winky. "She is being walking with Master Vernon."

Walking?" asked Hermione and Martha, together.

"Yes, mistresses," answered Winky. "Master Vernon is being saying it is being a nice day and is being asking Mistress Petunia to be being walking around the lake."

"Uncle Vernon?" asked Hermione, incredulously.

"Yes, Mistress," answered Winky.

"Well," said Hermione. She didn't really know what to say. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia going for a walk just because it's a nice day?

"That's a deep subject," commented Martha when Hermione failed to add anything.

"What?" asked Hermione, confused. The wheels had really come off by now.

"It was just a joke," said Martha. "Look; I'll leave you to it. I'm sure you'll have this sorted out in no time and we'll be back in business."

"Oh," said Hermione, coming back around. "I hope so. We should have everything up and running pretty soon. There're just a few details to work out."

"That's great," said Martha. "My team is pretty excited about getting back to work." She thought for just a second before asking, "Do you think we could borrow one of the detectors for a while? You know; to practice using it?"

"Sure," said Hermione. "They're on top of Harry's desk. The instructions are underneath them. Help yourself."

"Thanks," said Martha, returning to the office. Break time was over.

After a further fifteen minutes of back and forth table scooching, Hermione decided that the map's Prime Meridian was, on average, parallel with the real one. She was studying the area in Scotland that was the home to Hogwarts in order to determine as accurately as possible the school's exact position. Using the shapes of the numerous lakes with their many bays and islands to locate where _their_ lake, and along with it, Hogwarts, would be, Hermione leaned over the map and concentrated intently. She thought she had finally found the spot when...

"Guess who?" Someone had snuck up behind her and put their hands over her eyes.

"Ahhh!" Screamed Hermione, nearly becoming incontinent.

'Scooooch!' groaned the table as Hermione sprang straight up and involuntarily backed into it while turning to face her assailant.

Harry laughed uncontrollably at the startled look on her face. He found out fairly quickly that Hermione didn't think it was nearly as funny as he had.

* * *

An hour or so later, in a secluded cove on the far side of the lake.

The couple sat on the flat-topped boulder by the lake, arms around each other. The day had turned unseasonably warm by midmorning and many of the residents of Hogwarts, not wishing to let such an opportunity go to waste, had set out for various activities or excursions in the countryside near the castle. The temperature around this particular rock, however, was rising well past the sixty degrees of the surrounding air.

"Je t'aime, mon chéri. Vos yeux, vos cheveux, votre peau douce et crémeuse. J'aime tout de toi, ma chère."

"Je t'aime aussi. Mon Paris, ma Sampson, mon Hercule."

"Permettez-moi de vous tenir dans mes bras jusqu'à la fin des temps."

"L'éternité est bien trop court quand je suis avec vous."

"Oh, embrasse-moi, mon amour."

The resulting kiss was long, deep and passionate.

"What the bloody hell were they babbling about?" asked Vernon as he and Petunia turned the corner leading on past the lovers.

"They were saying they loved each other," answered Petunia. She smiled to herself as she walked hand in hand with her husband.

"I didn't know you spoke French," he said.

"I don't," replied Petunia. They both laughed. It had been years since they had done this sort of thing. Walking for pleasure had become something of an oxymoron for Vernon as his rise within the company had led to an expansion of more than his responsibilities. He had never exactly been gymnast material in the first place, but the desk job had a severe lack of opportunity for extended exertions. Now, however, he had managed to golf away a good thirty pounds and his stamina was definitely the better for wear.

The late fall leaves crunched beneath their feet as they worked their way along the path. There were still a few holding onto their branches but the forest had, for the most part, prepared itself for its long winter nap.

"I'm surprised," said Petunia. She continued to walk but looked at Vernon; smiling.

"Surprised?" he asked. "Surprised at what?"

"This walk," she replied. "I'm surprised that you and Karl aren't out playing a round or two instead of letting such a nice day go to waste."

"We might still squeeze a few holes in this afternoon," said Vernon. "Then again..." He stopped talking and turned his gaze towards the path.

"Then again, what?" asked Petunia. She could sense that Vernon was embarrassed by what he had just almost said.

"I... I was just going to say," said Vernon, "I don't think this is wasting the day, do you?" He stopped and turned towards her; putting his arm around her shoulders.

"No," said Petunia. "I certainly don't." She looked around for a moment. Pointing, she said, "There's a comfortable looking boulder. Let's go have a seat and talk in French."

* * *

Noon, in the surface level flats.

"This will do nicely," said Parry Caro after a quick look through the two bedroom flat. Three boxes of clothing and other personal affects that were recovered from the ruined house sat just inside the master bedroom. Linens and other necessities were provided by the elves so the apartment was ready to go. The view was to the north with the Whomping Willow being the main feature of the near landscape. At night, it would be discovered that the lights from the eastern edge of Hogsmeade would be visible if you knew where to look.

"I'm glad you're satisfied," said Mary Geneva, the head of the Ministry Department of Protective Services. "These are quite a bit nicer than the old accommodations. Plenty of fresh air and all. We can't see it from here, but just outside the entrance doors, an enclosed courtyard has been constructed so that the children can play without being observed by the students; weather permitting."

"That's very thoughtful," said Parry. "Will we be confined to just this area or could we leave, from time to time?"

"Well," interjected Hermione, thinking of the proper explanation, "you'd definitely be much safer if you didn't wander much. Arrangements have been made so that you'd only have to ask an elf for anything you might need. In the end, though, it's not a prison. Hogsmeade is only a short walk from here if you'd like to do some of your own shopping. I'd recommend that you keep that sort of thing to a minimum, though."

"Of course," said Parry, not completely masking her irritation by having the wife of Harry Potter answering the question; especially since she had not directed the question at her.

"I'd suggest that an elf accompany you if you leave the grounds," added Remus, "at least for the first month or so. Your husband was specifically targeted at a time when your whole family would be likely to be home. It'd probably be best if you laid low for a bit to allow You-Know-Who to forget that the attack wasn't entirely successful."

"I heartily agree," agreed Geneva. "We haven't made it public, yet, that we've moved everyone here, so it would be better for all of the families if you were seen as little as possible; at least for a few weeks."

"Very well," said Parry, unenthusiastically. "You mentioned the elves. How should we go about requesting one?"

"The elf assigned to you is Homer," explained Remus, after consulting his notes. "He'll answer if you call like this." He raise his head like everyone else and said, using a strong, clear voice, "Homer."

"What can Homer be doing for Professor Lupin?" asked Homer, moments after popping in front of them. He was of average height, but had a most unusual characteristic for an elf. He had a bit of a paunch.

"Homer," said Remus, "This is Parry Caro and her daughter Ellie." Homer bowed politely while the Caros both stared at him impolitely, but understandably.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, Remus said, "Homer is one of a few elves assigned to care for the families in these flats. You'll be the fifth family, I believe, in his group. Although he's available whenever you need him, I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you resist calling late at night unless it's an emergency."

"Also, don't be surprised if another elf comes, from time to time," added Hermione. "They can pass off to each other if they're busy when you call."

"I see," said Parry, curtly. There was that suppressed anger, again, whenever Hermione spoke.

Another few seconds passed before Geneva said, "Well, I suppose that's all, for now. I make it a point to stop by in the common area just down the stairs around ten o'clock on Mondays and Thursdays each week in case anyone here has any issues or concerns. That should work out good for you since the next visit is tomorrow. I'm sure you'll have some questions by then."

"I suppose so," said Parry. She had the distinct air of someone who wished her company would leave so she could get on with her own plans.

"Do you have any questions, Ellie?" asked Hermione. The young girl had clutched her mother's arm throughout the entire morning and had a partly confused, partly shy demeanor.

Ellie quickly shook her head and hid even further behind her mother's robes.

"Well, then," said Remus, "I suppose we'd better let you settle in." He briefly took Parry's hand before leading the rest of the party out onto the upper walkway. Parry followed them to the door and closed it abruptly behind them.

Hermione and Remus gave each other questioning looks. Geneva noticed this and interjected, "You mustn't read too much into her attitude, just yet. She's had a terrible shock and it probably won't fully register with her for a few more days. Right now, she's probably just trying to hold things together for her daughter's sake. Eventually, they'll both need to let their grief cry itself out before they can begin to recover. It all takes time." She smiled understandingly at Hermione and Remus.

"I understand," said Hermione. "We've already discussed that Mrs. Caro could have special difficulties as out guest. We'll do our best to help her adjust."

"I'm sure she'll be fine in a few weeks," agreed Geneva. "It's such a terrible shock; losing your husband. It took me over a month to be able to even think straight."

"Your husband..." began Hermione before catching herself. It was unlikely that Mrs. Geneva would want to relive that period of her life.

Unlikely, but not impossible. "Oh, yes," said Geneva, smiling wanly. "Nineteen years ago this August. Poor Sam had seen something that he shouldn't." She sighed.

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione, not really sure if it was an appropriate response after almost two decades.

"So was I," replied Geneva. "So is everyone that this happens to. They start out sad or angry, as you'd expect, but eventually move on to something else. It all depends on the circumstances, of course. If they have young children, they usually put on a strong front and try to get back to some sort of a normal routine. Those people tend to fare the best since they have a responsibility to take care of their children and don't have the time to dwell on the tragedy. If their children are grown or they're childless, finding an anchor is a bit more difficult. Eventually, something comes along that engages you enough to serve as a footing from which you can launch the next stage of your life. For me, the turning point came when I began to help the new arrivals in the protective center. It helped me to help others. Other people have taken advantage of the relative isolation to pursue artistic goals such as music or writing."

"I see," said Remus. "We haven't given much thought to our guests' recoveries, I'm afraid. Perhaps we could arrange some opportunities along the lines you've suggested."

"That would be fine," said Geneva, "but don't push them further or quicker than they're willing or able to go. One thing I've learned in this job is everyone's different. Let them tell you what they'd like. It works out much better that way."

"I understand," said Remus.

Mrs. Geneva then bid them both 'good day' in short order and left for London.

"I'm afraid I have to be getting back, too," said Remus to Hermione. "Fred and George were planning on working on some more of those detectors this afternoon."

"That's good," said Hermione. "We're working on using them effectively. Harry said something about the sundial being of help just before I had to come here. I've no idea how, but I'll go see if he's come up with anything, just the same." The two of them then went their separate ways.

* * *

On the South Lawn, just past one o'clock.

"I think it's a problem with parallax," said Hermione. She had fixed the detector to the nodus of the huge sundial. Moving her head slightly from side to side, the relative angles of the shadow caster and detector's arrow shifted, making it impossible to know when she was directly overhead.

"We've got to get an accurate direction or we'll just be guessing," said Harry. "At this distance, even a degree could put the follow-up team off by miles."

"And they won't have a map to use for reference," finished Hermione. They had, upon more detailed examination, found some of the more glaring problems with what had first seemed like a fairly simple exercise.

"Well," said Harry, "I think we're on the right track with the sundial. It has a fixed true north with a scale that can be used to give the angle off. We just need to figure out what we're missing to make it all work."

"Thanks for the summary, Euclid," snapped Hermione. She sat on the raised zodiac ring, ironically using it for furniture, while pondering their next move. Harry, realizing that his wife was already in a bad enough mood, sat next to her, trying to give the illusion of doing the same as she.

After a couple of minutes, they were both surprised by an unexpected eclipse. A large shadow, accompanied by a much smaller one, bathed the eastern hour lines in twilight.

"It's a sundial." Vernon and Petunia had finished their walk and were heading back to Petunia's greenhouse when they had noticed the younger couple apparently contemplating the intricacies of the simplest of all time measuring devices.

Harry, after years of practice ignoring similar sarcastic comments from his uncle, didn't reply, but Hermione, realizing that the comment was appropriate and borderline funny, given the circumstances, said, "We know. We were just wondering where to wind it." Everyone chucked for a moment.

"So what seems to be the major attraction?" asked Petunia, noticing the new device setting on the ancient time piece.

"We thought it might be useful in determining exactly what direction that little arrow on the top of that box is pointing," said Harry. He decided to stick with the truth.

"And you're trying to do that with a sundial?" asked Vernon, incredulously. "Why not just use a graduated ring?"

"A whatuated ring?" asked Harry.

"A graduated ring," answered Hermione. "He means to put a ring around the arrow with gradations, probably in degrees, and just read the angle off of that." She stepped back from the sundial to use it as an example before continuing with, "It's sort of what you were thinking of with the sundial. The accuracy would be better, though."

"That sounds reasonable," agreed Harry. "Then we could just plot the same angle on the map."

"Correct," said Hermione. "Thanks, Uncle Vernon. I think looking at the sundial distracted me enough to not see the correct solution that you provided."

"You're welcome," replied Vernon. "What are you going to use that for, anyway?" He stepped over to examine the Death Eater detector.

"It points at specific people," explained Harry. "It gives us the direction and, to a less accurate degree, the distance to whoever we ask for. We're going to use two of them; one here and one in London, to keep track of their movements."

"That's where the maps come in," said Vernon, understanding. "Three would work out better, you know. If two ended up pointing directly at each other, you wouldn't be very accurate on where they crossed. A third one coming in from the side would help pinpoint the exact location."

"Great," said Hermione with a sigh. "I spent half of the morning trying to line up one map. Now you want me to do the same with three?"

"I don't want you to do anything," said Vernon. "You can take my advice or leave it; it's all the same to me." He stepped back outside the boundaries of the sundial.

"I'm sorry," apologized Hermione. "It's been a frustrating morning." She gave a meaningful glance at Harry, who looked away. Petunia smiled, catching the implication. "I agree," continued Hermione. "Three would work out better. So all we need to do now is make some of these graduated rings, put a larger arrow on the maps with similar rings and we'd be set to go."

"Why not use enlarging pantographs to position the larger arrows?" asked Vernon. "Assuming, of course, that these little box things have enough torque to move them." He stepped back over to the detector.

"I don't know if they do," said Hermione. "We'll be using a pretty large arrow on the maps. They're about eight feet long."

"That'd be quite a bit larger than this one," agreed Vernon. He examined the axial pin on the arrow.

"Uncle Vernon," said Harry, slowly. "You seem to know all about these sorts of things, for some reason. Do you think you could give Hermione a hand with the details?" It was all he could do to get the question out of his throat. Never; ever, did Harry imagine that he'd need to ask his uncle for help; especially on something relatively important and of a technical nature.

"I could do that," said Vernon. "It's been a while since I had to do anything of that nature but it might be fun."

"Excellent," said Hermione. "When can we get started?"

"Well," said Vernon, starting to get a bit excited about being able to do something useful with his true skill set, "how about showing me your map and I'll start drawing up some preliminary drawings this afternoon."

"That's fine with me," said Hermione. "I'll take you down there. I still need to align the maps to true north. This time, though," she said with more than a hint of exasperation, "I'll fuse it to the floor when I get it right." She put her hands on her hips and glared playfully at Harry.

"Take it from an old machinist," said Vernon. "Don't make anything permanent until you're sure it's right. Once the pantograph is calibrated, _then_ you can fix it into place." He had learned that lesson over and over as an apprentice.

"You were a machinist?" asked Harry. "I thought you had an office job?"

"I did," said Vernon with a hint of disdain for his latest job. "Before that, though, I used to work for a living. Started out cutting the gears on chuck keys and worked my way up."

"Well, I'm glad you're willing to take the time to help us out," said Harry.

"Not as glad as I am to have a project," said Vernon. "I haven't worked on anything interesting in years." With that, the group broke up. Petunia headed back to her greenhouse. Hermione and Vernon made their way down into the Fortress of Solitude. Harry, with his hope restored to someday being able to once again track the Death Eaters and, with them, find new places to check for horcruxes, went in search of his best mate.

Author's note: To the early readers; I didn't seem any typos in the first glance through but that isn't saying there aren't any.

Dad


	100. Chapter 100

Chapter 100 - Really? A Hundred Chapters?

November 16th, 1997

"You're supposed to stop the quaffle from going through the hoops; not cheer it on." Ron shouted his displeasure with the performance of Henrietta Jacobi. To be fair, she hadn't 'cheered on' the quaffle as much as screamed in surprise while ducking when it was hit her way. She was one of four third years hoping to secure a position on the Griffindor Quidditch team this year. In her case, hope might not be warranted.

"Bloody hell," said Harry, watching the action next to Ron. Harry, of course, was on his firebolt. It had been a few weeks since he had last ridden it, with his ability to fly in his animangus form, and all. Still, he had to admit he had missed it. He needed the practice anyway. It was highly unlikely that the Quidditch commissioner would allow him to play as a dragon.

Ron hovered nearby on his carpet. So far, they had found four fair chaser candidates, including the previous year's substitute Dean Thomas. Ginny's place as the third first-string chaser, although not official until her tryouts, was almost a shoe-in. With just two applicants, the beaters were chosen by default. Harry would, without objection, be the seeker, of course, so that left the keeper as the only position left to fill.

"Next!" shouted Ron after Henrietta let the next three quaffles sizzle on by; one through each hoop. Henrietta flew dejectedly over to the sidelines while Pudgy Jameson flew up for his turn. Only a fourth year, he nevertheless gave the chasers some competition. With his reinforced broom capable of extraordinary short term accelerations, he was able to maneuver his husky frame in front of any hoop necessary with enough precision to stop seven of the ten attempted shots. That was enough to make him the front runner for the position.

With a wave and smile from Ron, he took his place next to the line of hopefuls.

After the last three Gryffindors had made their unsuccessful bids for the position, Ron thanked those who were culled and called his new team over.

"Okay, team," he began, "our objective is simple; to win matches. I've developed a few, ah, dozen plays that I think might be interesting." At this point, he held up a sheaf of scrolls that had been secured behind him on his flying carpet. It looked to Harry more like Methuselah's diary than a quidditch playbook. He listened as Ron went on.

"It'll be more than just learning a few plays, though," said Ron. "You'll have to make them all second nature; both in their execution and determining which ones you should be using. You have to be able to read each other's minds; to act as one. To do that, you'll need to practice, practice, practice. We all need to focus on quidditch and only quidditch." His voice was rising as he let his pent up feelings about the game flow out.

"Ron," said Harry.

"Nothing is more important," continued Ron. "I want you to put your past lives out of your minds. You are no longer just students. Now, you're members of the Gryffindor House team."

"Ron," said Harry, again.

"Whenever you have a thought of family or friends, try to ignore it as part of the 'before time'. You must dedicate your lives to the only thing in the universe that has lasting value; the Quidditch Cup."

"Ron!" shouted Harry.

"Oh, what is it?" asked Ron, obviously upset at being interrupted in mid-stride.

"You're scaring the recruits, General," said Harry. It was true. Dean, having roomed with Ron for over six years, was fairly used to his obsession with the game, but the younger members of the team were quite overwhelmed and had begun to instinctively gather closer together for protection.

"Why would you be frightened?" asked a sincerely confused Ron of the huddled mass. "I'm just giving you an example of the proper team spirit. Surely, you all want to win, right?" Everyone nodded.

"You want your fellow classmates to be proud of you, right?" Again, everyone indicated that they did.

"Well, then," he summed up, "what's the problem?" He waited for any takers before stating, "I think we'll all feel more comfortable once we get started. We've still got the pitch reserved for another two hours. Harry, take the beaters down to the far end with a bludger and give them some practice hitting it back and forth between them. If they get the hang of that, move on to target practice."

"What should they use for a target?" asked Harry, playing along with the perennial joke.

"You," said Ron. "A case of butter beer to the first one who makes contact."

* * *

Around the same time, in the kitchen of the Minister of Magic

"No. I _don't_ understand." Kingsley Shacklebolt didn't understand. "The Auror Corps has managed to protect the reigning monarchs quite effectively over the centuries. Now, all of a sudden, we're not up to the job?"

"It's not about competency," retorted Rufus, sipping his Chardonnay. "It's about secrecy. From what I understand, Harry's elves won't show up on a map. Anyone from our office will; with or without an invisibility cloak." He cut another piece of halibut and began to chew it before continuing. "An auror will be in charge, in any event. Harry's agreed to let Tonks be our liason on this. She's to report directly to Jack." In a minor attempt to soften the sting, he added, "It won't be for long, in any event. I'm not letting Death Eaters come and go at will at Windsor Castle. I _do_ want to know what they're doing there." He swallowed and began to cut another bite while finishing with, "Once we've determined their motives, we'll move in and make the arrests."

"Let's not do it _too_ quickly," suggested Jack. He, too, was working on his dinner but had only water with his steak. "From what I gathered at the picnic, they're still checking to see what other sights are infested with unwanted pests."

"Two weeks," said Rufus. "That's as far as I'm willing to go. This is the queen, after all." He drained his glass and reached over to refill it while adding, "I wouldn't do even that much without knowing a bit about Harry's elves. If need be, they'll step in; with or without direct orders."

"I'm not particularly reassured by that," said Kingsley. "Elves acting without orders. Who knows what they might do."

Rufus pondered this last statement while sipping his wine. "I'm not at liberty to discuss this with any details," he began, "but what little I know about the few occasions they have had to act on their own, they tend to favor the safety of the people around them more than any other concerns. Nevertheless, I'll have Minerva ask Harry to stress that anything that could remotely be a threat to the queen should be acted upon quickly and overwhelmingly. If a Death Eater so much as flings a spit-ball in her direction, I want them brought down, and hard."

* * *

Back on the practice field

After only an hour, the majority of the team had run out of steam. Harry, having been active all summer, was still in quidditch playing shape. He also was more of an assistant coach than seeker during this first practice and hadn't gone out of his way to exert himself. Ron, of course, spent most of his time floating on his carpet, although his voice was paying a bit of a price from the shouting.

"Very good, team," said Ron. "Excellent for a first practice. We'll take it up there next time."

"When's the next practice?" asked Pudgy.

Ron pulled out a few parchments and began to pass them around. "Tuesday evening," he said. "After that, Friday, then Saturday morning. I might be able to swing another Sunday into the mix, as well." With a bit of grumbling at the excessive amount of time they'd be spending outside this winter, the majority of the team returned to the castle.

"So, said Harry when the team was out of earshot. "What do you think?"

Ron leaned back on his carpet; his eyes closed and his mind reviewing the high and low points of their drills. Finally, he said, "I think I'll have to work in some practice sessions during lunch, as well."

Harry laughed. "I don't think they're all that bad. We'll hold our own." He looked around and then at his watch. "We've still got some time. Why don't you send up the practice snitch and I'll see if I need to miss a few meals, myself?" Harry flew off to allow Ron time to open the case and release the snitch. When Ron blew his whistle, Harry knew the chase was on.

Spinning to his left, he immediately caught sight of the snitch, darting along the edge of the warning track in the middle of the north side of the pitch. Racing down, he plucked it out of the air as it began to shift directions. Holding it aloft, Harry flew back to Ron.

"I guess I'll be well fed, after all," he said as he handed the snitch to Ron for another go.

"We'll see," agreed Ron. "I'll give it a bit more time to hide, this round." He waved Harry away and released the snitch, again.

After a couple of minutes, Harry was wondering just how long Ron would wait when he heard the whistle. Peering quickly around, he caught the glint of gold peeking around the base of the far side's center hoop. He raced towards it at lightning speed. The snitch, perhaps embarrassed by the ease of the last capture, sped headlong towards the cover of the spectator towers. It was racing through the timbers long before Harry was able to spot it, again. Nevertheless, Harry pulled into the open spot between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin south side towers and effortlessly reached up just as the snitch made it's run between them. Another spectacular grab.

"Wow!" shouted Ron. "What a catch!" He was grinning toothily as he met Harry in the middle of the pitch.

"I know," agreed Harry, unhumbly. "It was like I knew it was going to be there." He, too, was pleased with the sudden increase in his skills. "Let's do another one." Without waiting for Ron to agree, Harry sped off.

The next few chases went the same way. Harry wasted no time in random searches; he was always fortunate enough to spot the formerly elusive snitch within seconds. With darkness fast descending around them, Harry and Ron had to finally call it a night.

"This is fantastic," exclaimed Ron, brimming over with excitement. "The other teams won't know what hit them!" His head reeled with the thoughts of quidditch domination.

"I'll say," agreed Harry, just as giddily. "I wonder if this is another side benefit from merging with Fawkes."

"What do you mean?' asked Ron. As far as he knew, Fawkes had never even played the game.

"As I think about it," explained Harry, "it wasn't so much that I saw the snitch quickly as I knew where to look. I could just tell."

"Wicked," gushed Ron. "This'll be the best season ever."

"Quidditch Cup, here we come," agreed Harry. With a quick high five, they both headed back towards the castle.

* * *

On the way, they ran into Ginny, Neville and Luna. Actually, Ron ran into Neville; the others were just nearby.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron, lying on his back and staring straight up into the deepening dark of the evening sky.

Luna rushed over to help Ron while Ginny stayed further back to check on the prone Neville. Each had an elf soon joining them; Gilly with Ginny and Blinky with Luna. Harry, having initially overshot the site of the collision, had circled around and landed near the center of the group.

"Is anyone hurt?" asked Harry as he hopped off his firebolt. He paused a moment before heading over to Neville. In any coin flip, bet on Neville as being the most likely to be injured.

"Of course not," said Ginny, sarcastically. "Why do you ask?" She rolled her boyfriend over so that he was face up and checked for a pulse. She seemed to be unusually competent at this task.

"Are you okay, Ron?" asked Luna. Ron had remained conscious, at least.

"I think so," said Ron, illustrating his lack of spinal injuries by patting himself down.

"Enervate," intoned Ginny. Neville shuddered slightly and blinked twice before looking about with a bewildered expression. Ginny lit her wand tip and ordered, "Follow the light with your eyes." She moved it back and forth. Neville obediently tracked the light.

"Look up," continued Ginny. "Look down. Puff up your cheeks. Squeeze my fingers. Good. Wiggle your feet. Excellent. Now smile." Ginny bent down to give him a quick kiss.

"All better, now?" she asked with a thin smile.

"You're the expert," said Neville. "I feel a bit banged up. No broken bones, this time." He glanced at his surroundings and asked, "What happened? I feel like I was run down by an ox."

"Close," said Ginny. "We seemed to have apparated back in front of Ron and Harry while they were racing, or something." She looked to Harry for confirmation.

"We weren't racing," said Harry, "but we were moving along at a fair clip." Turning to Neville, he added, "You should count your blessings. I was riding a broom. I'm pretty sure that, given a choice, you'd take the rug any day of the week."

Neville winced as one of the possible consequences of a collision with a one inch diameter pole traveling at forty miles an hour sank in.

"Why'd you apparate in front of us, anyway?" asked Ron.

"We didn't plan to," answered Ginny. "We just asked the elves to take us to Harry."

"I think we'll be rephrasing that, next time," said Luna.

"Good idea," said Harry. "So, did the rest of the day go better than the end?" He reached down to assist Neville in regaining his feet.

"Well," answered Luna who had just finished levitatin Ron back onto his carpet, "it was a fun day. We visited that abbey in the Scottish Borders, the lighthouse and Stonehenge. They were all quite interesting, of course, but we didn't find anything like that room in the queen's castle."

Harry said, "That's a good start. I'm not really sure if it's good news or bad news, though."

"It's good news," confirmed Ron. "Especially since the Minister is planning on shutting it down." At Harry's confused look, he elaborated. "You can't have a pattern of one. If Voldemort had secret rooms in all of these places and suddenly they were all found out, he'd change all of his security and surveillance operations. But if just this one in Windsor castle was compromised, and by the Ministry instead of us, well, that'd be different. Just a random auror taking his kids out for a stroll and noticing something funny. He wouldn't like it but it wouldn't cause him to consider changing everything around."

"I suppose not," agreed Harry. "Not that we'd hit him everywhere, anyway. That would definitely be a dead giveaway."

"Then why are we checking everywhere?" asked Neville. "I mean, if there was someplace secret at Stonehenge, it wouldn't really matter, so why check?"

"It's good to know," said Ron. "Like those blokes on the mountain. We're leaving them there but check on them, too. If push comes to shove, anyone we know about could be captured in a coordinated mission. We have to know where they are for that to work, though."

"I see," said Neville, a little dejectedly.

"What's the problem, Neville?" asked Harry. "I wouldn't think it'd be a problem spending the day with two beautiful women." Luna smiled brilliantly at the compliment while Ginny attempted a sardonic pose, but failed and also had to grin.

"Normally," said Neville, "it would be great. Today, however..." He shuddered.

"Oh, it wasn't _that_ bad, was it?" asked Ginny, playfully.

"It was okay, now and again," said Neville, "whenever you had to inhale. Of course with your lung capacity..."

"I beg your pardon," snapped Ginny. "It was my_ job_ to comment on everything I saw."

"But did you have to do your job _so well_," asked Neville.

"I think I'll have to side with Neville," interjected Luna.

"I think they're jealous," said Ron. "Ginny has some impressive natural ability in this area."

"Don't I know it," stated Harry. While dating, he had spent quite a bit of time snogging with her just to get some peace and quiet.

"So," said Ginny. "Same time next weekend?' She had decided that they were, after all, just jealous.

"Sure," said Neville, slumping off back to the castle with Ginny and Luna. It wasn't long before he and Ron heard some lively, albeit one-sided banter coming from the redhead.

"Better you than me, mate," said Harry, not for the last time.

* * *

Monday, November 17th, 1997

In the Great Hall

"Harry!" snapped Hermione. The nearly napping Harry snapped upright, scattering his bacon and eggs all over as his plate went, ironically enough, over the tea kettle.

"Stop doing that!" whined Harry as he tried to reach into his robes. Due to the haphazard manner in which he had sat down, that option was currently unavailable so he lazily just raised his hand and summoned the plate back to himself.

"Use your wand," chided Hermione, slapping his hand. They had agreed, in her mind at least, that he wouldn't show off in public unless necessary.

"Sorry," said Harry, refilling his plate. This had been the third wake-up call since they had sat down for breakfast.

"Why're you so tired?" asked Honey. She knew why _she_ was tired but Harry was usually more energetic.

"I overslept," explained Harry, guiltily.

"Generally speaking," said Ron, "I'm knackered more often when I _undersleep_."

Harry laughed, tiredly. "It's a little more complicated than that," he explained. "I have to get up early so that after I cure these people, I still have enough time to get enough sleep to recover."

"What people?" asked Dean.

"Werewolves," said Harry. "I cured one late last night and one a bit too late this morning. I think I dozed off for a while after my alarm sounded."

"That's not _your _fault," said Honey. "Hermione should have..."

"Since when is it my job to drag his butt out of bed?" asked Harry's incredulous mate.

"Well," said Honey, patiently, yet somehow infuriatingly, "it's the duty of any good wife to make sure that..."

"What a lovely day for a walk," interrupted Ron, floating up. He was in a bit of a hurry, for some reason. Several of those nearby seemed to agree with him as they also rose.

Although innocent of any wrongdoing, Harry was seriously considering apparating away; probably to Muck where there would be a few of his friends to protect him, if necessary.

"Sit down!" barked Hermione. Everyone sat down. Some were forced to do so on the floor but they didn't mind since that put them more out of sight.

Hermione looked around for a second before asking, "What's the matter with you people? Honey and I were just discussing the proper role of a wife in waking her husband. You're all acting like you expect me to get violent, or something." She laughed, briefly.

"Uh," began Harry before not coming up with a response. What could he say? 'You're remarkably perceptive'?

"In this instance," said Hermione, "I think Honey's right. Not only did you re-start curing the werewolves, again; you also were involved in two Death Eater attacks within the last thirty six hours. I should have made sure you had cured the one this morning in time to rest up for a full day of school."

"Well," said Ginny, addressing Harry, "if you hurry and eat something, you'll be able to get a quick nap in before your first class."

"Good point," said Harry, tucking in. Everyone returned to their accustomed seats and did likewise.

* * *

Within a few minutes, the morning owls began to arrive, as usual. As they circled around, looking for their recipients, Hermione observed, "I suppose now we'll see who Rita and Cuffe are more afraid of; Voldemort or Harry."

"I've got a galleon on Harry," said Ginny, reaching into her pocket and placing a coin on the table.

"You're on," replied Dean. He fumbled for some change, as well.

"I want in on that," said Seamus, sitting next to Dean. "A galleon on You-Know-Who. Any takers?"

"I'll cover that," said Ron, "and four more, if anyone else wants to lose."

A quick flurry of betting was shortly interrupted by the first owls landing with their papers.

"Don't unroll those," ordered Neville. "We have to finish up, first." He had dropped his money pouch and was chasing after the loose gold and silver.

"Oh, really," huffed Hermione. She gave them an additional twenty seconds before pulling off the ribbon and scanning the front page.

"Well?" asked Harry, when she didn't declare a winner.

Hermione turned to the inside and checked pages two and three, then four and five before stating, "I think you all get your money back." She quickly leafed through the rest of the paper.

"What?' asked Ron. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," answered Hermione, "that there isn't a word about yesterday's attack. I don't see any further mention of Mr. Caro, either."

"You kill two Death Eaters and capture a third _in their office _and they don't even mention it?" asked Ron. He had taken up the position of incredulous interrogator for the small group. He had the voice for it.

Hermione flipped back to the front page, checking it again, before saying, "I guess not. The headline is 'Clockmaker Exhibition Winds Down.' If that's their lead, I'm not sure I want to read the ..."

"Editor Retires," said Ginny, who had leafed through her paper a bit slower, but more thoroughly than Hermione. "Barnabus Cuffe, long time editor of The Daily Prophet, announced that he will be retiring from his position, effective immediately. We at The Daily Prophet wish Mr. Cuffe well on his future endeavors."

After a few moments, Harry asked, "Is that it?"

Ginny scanned the rest of the page before saying, "It looks like it."

"Well, that's one way to avoid picking sides," said Hermione. She had begun to read the article on the clockmakers before realizing that she couldn't possibly care less about it.

"I'm not sure it'll do them any good," commented Ron. "Voldemort will probably be just as mad at them for not printing anything as for not doing it his way." He leaned past Ginny to reload on the bacon.

"That would explain Cuffe's retirement," said Harry. "He's probably halfway to Spain by now."

"What surprises me," said Hermione, "is Rita didn't put in an article. She's not as easily spooked as Cuffe was." She had returned to the story on the exhibition on the off chance that someone would ask her a question about it. She had her reputation to uphold, after all.

"Rita can write anything she wants," said Harry, "but that doesn't mean that her boss; whoever that is, now, has to publish it."

"I hope someone grows a backbone," said Ginny, tossing her paper on the table, "otherwise this rag won't be worth reading."

"I'm sure this is just temporary," replied Hermione. She finished up her eggs and made her toast and bacon into a couple sandwiches. "Come on, Harry," she ordered, getting up. "You can eat this on the way to Defense and grab twenty winks before class."

Harry looked thoughtful as he rose to join her. "I wish I was going to History of Magic, instead. I could summon a blanket and pillow and really make up for lost time." Hermione rolled her eyes as everyone else nodded their agreement.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Voldemort's newest lair.

"Oh, that's quite handsome on you, Master. Quite handsome." Simon Richards was assisting the Dark Lord with the selection of his new robes.

Voldemort turned from side to side; always keeping himself in view in the full length mirror installed on the back of the door of his suite. Richards, with the temptation of having Italian designers so close at hand, and perhaps a bit impulsively, had taken it upon himself to have some sample tailored robes made for his master. It was a dangerous gambit but apparently not fatal. Two of the offerings had risen to the point of an initial fitting for the Dark Lord while the third, which had too much of the appearance of a uniform, was deemed acceptable for his personal bodyguards.

"I agree," said Voldemort, finally. "These shall be the design used for daily wear. Have three sets made up in crimson with additional sets in both black and green." He thought a moment before elaborating, "Include capes as well as outer cloaks. Also, that fancy set with the leather stitching that you showed me earlier; you know which one? One of those in each color, as well for special occasions. Hats, gloves and boots to match, of course."

"Of course, Master," gushed Richards. "Would you like the same for your personal guards, Master?"

Voldemort considered this before deciding, "No. Two sets each of the double breasted robes in black and royal blue. I am aware that black is black, but see that there is some distinction between the black in their robes and mine."

"Yes, Master," answered Richards, thinking. "Perhaps instead of just your shirts, we could also have your robes done in silk. That would also be more comfortable as well as stylish." He looked on smiling patiently, waiting for a decision.

"I believe that will be satisfactory," replied Voldemort, nodding. "Make it so. I'd still like one set in each color and style in leather. Have everything ready by Wednesday."

"Of course, Master," finished Richards. He scurried off to make the proper arrangements for the clothing.

With a final, satisfied look in the mirror, the Dark Lord walked over to his balcony. Having arrived late last night, he had not yet managed to inspect his new property. Looking out over the plains of Tuscany, he was pleased. This monastery was perfect for it's possible use. No town or village was within five miles. No shepherd's hut or farmer's cottage was within sight. The only road was long since bypassed by newer highways. Here he could dwell for a long time in seclusion. Perhaps for a very long time.

For now, however, he was merely using it as a convenient place for a very special job interview. Owls were sent last night to his first choice but there were no guarantees. This could take weeks. The warm breeze caused his curtains to rustle moderately. Turning at the sound, he caught sight of the hot tub near the steps down to the main pool. Who knows? This might take all winter.

* * *

Two hours after breakfast in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"I'll be wanting three viable defenses against the attack discussed today," said Coldiron. "Extra points if you exceed six." Everyone started to gather their things before Professor Coldiron made his final comment.

"One last thing," he said. "Potter. Despite being applicable in your case, I will no longer accept 'kill them all' as an answer."

"Yes, sir," muttered Harry as he groused out of the room.

"I told you to stop pushing your luck," said Hermione, smirking.

"I still say you should stick with what works," opined Ron.

"Fortunately," said Harry, "I've already found another option that works fairly well. If you kill one or two in, ah, let's say an _unusual _manner, the rest tend to lose their interest in fighting."

"Along with their lunch," quipped Hermione. They all laughed. Behind them, unwillingly eavesdropping, Neville paled just a bit as he intentionally slowed his pace to increase the gap between himself and the group ahead.

Once they reached the first major intersection, Harry kissed his wife and then left with Ron down the left hand hallway. Hermione continued on straight ahead. Now that they wouldn't be discussing interesting ways to kill people, Neville sped up to join her.

"Did you finish the extra credit assignment?" he asked as he took his place next to Hermione.

"Not really," she replied, sighing. "We've been pretty busy so I was only able to write five feet."

"Five feet?" asked Neville, shocked. "Sprout said two feet was enough for full points."

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure she was kidding. I wasn't even through discussing the solutions to the grafting problems in two feet. No, the problem I had was I couldn't find a way to limit the mutations that would be inherent with ..." The conversation continued as the two walked out the back entrance on their way to the greenhouses.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron had made it back to Gryffindor tower and the Head's Suite. Having become self-conscious about holding hands, even in private and for good reason, they individually touched their rings to the icon kiosk and transported down to their office. They had the rest of the morning free and intended to work on winnowing out some more of Greyback's chaff and find something useful. Such a logical and practical plan didn't have a chance, of course, and the two boys were quickly distracted by the sight of Harry's Uncle Vernon engaging in what looked for all the world like semaphore code practice; minus the flags. Naturally, they turned aside from Greyback's tomes and went to investigate this strange sight.

"Rasta backter ispa grumburton dipaskaly lowjernacky," stuttered out Vernon as he fumbled with what they now perceived to be a stack of sticks. When Vernon noticed Harry, he exclaimed, "Thank God. I need to get back to my house and pick up a decent tape measure." He took the sticks, which Harry noticed had tiny hash marks similar to the rulers they had used in elementary school along with some sort of hinges that joined them together; one after the other, and flung them into the corner.

"A tape measure?" asked Harry. He had heard the term but had never actually seen one.

"Yes," said Vernon. "I'm trying to take some measurements of this bloody map and all that anyone could find around here was that antique." Folding rulers are best used for measurements short enough to allow both ends to be held in place. They also require a willingness to accept some inaccuracy. Unfortunately, neither of those conditions existed in the vicinity of Hermione's large map of Great Britain.

"Well," began Harry, looking at Ron, "I suppose we could take a trip down to Little Whinging. Just let me check to see if the coast is clear." He stepped into the office.

"Good morning, Martha," said Harry, passing through the main office into the map room. "How's it going?" He noticed that she had some yarn and knitting needles with what looked like a good start on a scarf setting on the table next to her chair.

"We're busy being ineffective," she replied, indicating the cluster of elves using the Death Eater locator and jotting down their best estimates at their locations on one of the full size maps of Great Britain. "If you need a wild guess, we're on top of it."

"I just need a little information and an escort and we might be able to add some precision," said Harry. "It turns out that Uncle Vernon knows a bit about machines. He and Hermione have some sort of an idea on using a few of these locator things to pinpoint those Death Eater blokes."

"A machine?" asked Martha. "What sort of a machine?"

"No idea," said Harry. "He's working on the map just around the corner. You could ask him when we get back."

"I might do that," replied Martha. "What sort of information do you need?"

"I just want to check that no one's visiting his house," explained Harry. "We need to pop in for one of his tools."

"Oh," said Martha, walking over to one of the maps. Leaning over the elf on duty, she glanced at the map before turning back to Harry and saying, "No visitors. At least no muggle or still old-style marked Death Eater visitors." That was the best they could do until they developed the new system.

"Great," said Harry. "It was any muggle visitors I was most interested in. I'm taking along some guards in case some Death Eaters are standing by. Speaking of which; please come here, Jumper."

"What can Jumper be doing for Harry Potter?" asked Jumper a moment later.

"I need an escort," said Harry. "Two elves to accompany my uncle and me to his house to pick up something. It should only take a few minutes." Within five seconds, they were joined by Windy.

"Jumper and Windy is being ready, Harry Potter," said Jumper.

"Let's go," said Harry, walking out of the office and back over to his uncle. "Uncle Vernon; this is Jumper and Windy. They'll be providing protection for this trip. Now, if you'll just hold onto my arm, we'll be off." He extended his arm while adding, "I'll pop Uncle Vernon directly into the garage so no one will see us, Jumper. You can follow when you're ready."

Vernon took Harry's arm and with a nod of warning from Harry, he found himself in his garage. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to that," he exclaimed, catching his balance as well as his breath. Releasing Harry, he added, "There were some days when I wouldn't have minded avoiding the commute, though."

Pop. Another elf had joined them. "What is Vernon being doing leaving without Karl?" asked Kreacher. He was holding a rag in one hand and a seven iron in the other.

"Sorry," apologized Vernon. "We were just coming down to pick up a couple tools and Harry called some other elves to help."

"Master is ordering _Kreacher_ to be helping Master's uncle," argued Kreacher, facing Harry.

"I know that," retorted Harry. "I just forgot. You can stay, if you like."

Kreacher looked at Jumper and Windy who both looked back. None of them seemed pleased with the prospect of each other's company. "Karl will finish polishing Vernon's golf clubs," he said. "Is Vernon being wanting to be playing a round today?" He looked at Vernon, hopefully.

"We might slip in a quick nine," answered Vernon. "I need to take a few measurements and draw up some plans. After that, we should have an hour or so to ourselves." Kreacher seemed satisfied with this and popped off.

Vernon returned to the project at hand and walked over to the workbench attached to the wall opposite the garage door. Looking over the top of the workbench for a moment, he found a ten meter tape measure setting on a small shelf. Putting it in his pocket, he glanced over the other shelves. Not seeing what he was looking for, he proceeded to open one of the two drawers underneath the counter. Reaching into its depths, he retrieved another tape measure. This one had the length indicated in feet.

"Metrification," stated Vernon. "That was what was going on when I was just learning my trade. That means we went from using this;" he held up the twenty foot long tape; "to this," he finished, indicating the ten meter version. "You're lot never got the letter, it seems, so I might need to do everything in feet and inches ."

"That's up to you and Hermione," said Harry. He paused, noticing the distracted look in his uncle's eyes. After a second, Vernon walked over to a large object covered with a gray, canvas tarpaulin. He reached out as if to uncover it but hesitated.

"There might be a few other tools that would be handy," he said. "How long can we stay here?"

"As long as you need, I guess," answered Harry. He looked meaningfully at the elves. Jumper nodded a moment later. Undetected by the humans, a third elf had popped into a large tree in the backyard to provide additional surveillance for this extended stay.

Quickly, but with care, Vernon pulled off the covering. A large red toolbox with many drawers came into view. It had the look of long use but only a couple major dents. The name 'Roebuck' was emblazoned across the front with a small, but professionally made nameplate with the name 'Vernon Dursley' attached to the right side of the top cover. Opening that cover, Vernon started to go through the drawers, one by one. Harry could see that most of the tools were organized in holders of various sorts and there seemed to be a lot of them. The selection process also slowed down as each tool was closely examined. Quite often, a moment was taken to rub off a bit of a smudge or a speck of rust before the tool was gently replaced. After five minutes of this, Harry had a thought.

"Uncle Vernon," he asked, "it's probably hard to know what you might need. Do you think it might be a good idea to take the whole box?"

Vernon took a moment to pull himself back to the present. "Yes," he said, finally. "I think that's an excellent suggestion. You never know what you'll need." He placed the few tools he had already selected, including the two tape measures, back into the large tool box and closed the lid. He pulled the box on the sturdy casters out to the center of the floor. Turning to the elves, he asked, "Can you lot handle something this heavy?"

"We is being able to be moving Master Dursley's box," said Jumper.

"Well," said Harry, "I suppose we can head back, then." He offered his arm to Vernon while Jumper and Windy each took a handle of the tool chest. With a turn, Harry and Vernon returned to the chamber, next to the large map. A moment later, a pop was heard that had a metallic rattle as the elves also arrived. Vernon immediately went over and rolled the chest to a nearby wall.

"Now we're cooking with gas," said Uncle Vernon, happily. He took the twenty foot tape out of the box and stepped over to the map. Extending the tape over the table, he said, "Yes! That's much better."

Harry smiled before heading back into the office with Ron, who was already hard at work. Sitting in his chair, he saw that they'd be reviewing the murders from the summer of 1972 to the beginning of 1973. This took up forty or so scrolls so he put his feet up and settled in for a long session.

* * *

Later that afternoon in Tuscany.

The Dark Lord, like Harry, also had his feet up. They were resting against one of the many jets of his spa. He had conjured a beach umbrella to shade him from the bulk of the midday sun. Between the warm breeze and the hot tub, he didn't really need it for warmth. Sipping on his brandy, he might even have thought that for now, if it were possible, he was momentarily at peace with the rest of the world.

Surrounding him, technically on guard duty but in reality just catching some rays, were about six members of his personal guard. Since they were made up of his already proven Death Eaters, they were cut more slack than if impressionable new members were using them for examples. As would be intuitively obvious to the most casual of observers, it would be nearly impossible to fend off any competent attack while reclining shirtless in their chaise lounges or dangling their feet in the water. A magically refrigerated keg of mead floated in the pool, making its periodic circumnavigation propelled by the currents produced by the automatic filtering system. As it drifted by, the nearby Death Eaters could summon a fresh bottle as they chose. A few of them had taken the next logical step and were leisurely floating on the surface.

Even the great snake Nagini, always kept with her master on extended trips, was sunning herself on the concrete surrounding the swimming pool. This caused those Death Eaters using the pool to be especially careful not to splash lest the whiney serpent should decide to go running to her master to complain. Well, figuratively running, to be accurate. Snakes can't run, you see. They don't have legs. Even if they did have legs, it'd be hard to run since their vertebrae are so flexible. Of course, legs would imply joints that could provide a certain amount of support so, given a proper distribution, it could be possible that they could run. If they did have legs, though, they wouldn't really be snakes, now would they, so it's all a mute point.

On the far side of the compound, Sam Belachek, one of the surprisingly numerous half-bloods in Voldemort's upper ranks, was attempting to explain the concept and execution of tennis to a few younger, but interested, Death Eaters. His muggle father had been good enough to play semi-professionally so he was well grounded in the sport. From what he was observing, he would probably have better competition from a brick wall. Ballistics, spin and gravitational acceleration didn't factor into spell-casting so it might be awhile until they were playing doubles with anything approaching competency. If they knew how close their master was to just scrapping the original purpose of this trip in favor of jumping into Plan B straight away, they wouldn't have worried about not having the time to learn a new sport.

Simon Richards was the only member of the contingent actively engaged in anything remotely constructive. Wearing a flowery apron, he was the self-appointed chief cook and bottle washer. His ambition, farfetched as it might seem, was to slowly, but steadily, change the preferred diet of his fellows from the unhealthy high fat, cholesterol, alcohol and sugar laden meat, mead and sweets they loved to a more nutritious blend of grains, fruits, vegetables, tea and, on rare special occasions, a small piece of poultry or fish as a treat. In an effort to acclimatize them slowly, he was working on some of his homemade granola bars. He'd slip them in as a replacement for the cupcakes that were normally scheduled for dessert on Mondays.

Richards had just removed the oat, almond, wheat germ and sunflower seed mixture from the oven and was preparing to mix it into the honey and brown sugar when an owl flew into the kitchen. Not wishing to stop the bars since it was important to add the dried fruit and other special ingredients before the whole lot set up, he nevertheless knew his primary duty.

"Oh, come here, you little scamp," said Richards. The owl complied and fluttered over to where Richards was standing and extended his leg with the note on it. Richards untied the ribbon, being careful to set it aside for some possible future use. Taking the scroll, he quickly unrolled it. Looking at his watch; then out the window, he set down the scroll and quickly finished his bars and placed them back in the oven before running out to his master.

"Master," he shouted, giddily, as he approached the hot tub. "You've received a reply from... Oh, my goodness. You'd better put on some sun screen or you really will be a dark lord, and not in a good way." He turned to head back for a bottle.

"The letter," said Voldemort, loudly, but surprisingly patiently; probably because he was feeling pretty comfortable and didn't want to spoil the moment.

"Oh, the letter," repeated Richards, coming back and taking a chair next to Voldemort. "Shall I read it?" He said this as if asking a child if he wanted some candy.

"Of course," said Voldemort, coldly. He took another sip of his brandy. It occurred to him that he very well might decide to kill Richards when he sobered up.

"Here goes," said Richards, leaning forward.

"Mon cher Lord Voldemort. J'ai reçu votre lettre demandant une rencontre entre les deux d'entre nous pour discuter de cette offre mystérieuse affaire dont vous avez parlé. Comme je suis actuellement très occupé avec mes propres préoccupations, je crois qu'il est juste pour vous avertir que je serai plus que probablement à décliner toute activité étendu en Angleterre. Comme une question de courtoisie, si, je consens à discuter de la question plus à fond avant de prendre une décision finale. Il est également tout à fait possible que d'autres mesures pourraient être prises pour satisfaire à la fois de nos besoins.

Je vais arriver avec une petite fête ce soir au coucher du soleil. Comme je l'ai cultivé un ventre un peu maniaque comme je l'ai vieilli, s'il vous plaît ne tardez pas votre repas du soir sur mon compte.

Yours,

Comte L'Argenterie"

Voldemort sat quietly soaking. He had more or less stopped listening after the 'Mon cher Lord Voldemort' part. He knew enough French to translate that much. He had gone off on a short tangent regarding the fact that few, if any, people had ever called him 'dear'. The melodic nature of the French language coupled with the pint of brandy he had consumed led him to just experience the sensations without noting that he didn't understand a word of it. Snapping out of the trance, he said, "Very good, Richards. Ah, my French might be a bit rusty. Please read it again; this time in English."

"Of course, Master," said Richards with a glance at his watch. He had to get back to his kitchen but still had some time. "My dear Lord Voldemort. I have received your letter requesting a meeting between the two of us to discuss this mysterious business offer of which you hinted. As I am currently quite busy with my own concerns, I think it fair to warn you that I will most likely have to decline any extended activities in England. As a matter of courtesy, though, I will consent to discuss the matter more fully before coming to a final decision. It is also entirely possible that alternative arrangements could be made to satisfy both of our needs.

I shall arrive with a small party this evening at sundown. As I have grown a somewhat finicky stomach as I've aged, please don't delay your evening meal on my account.

Yours,

Count L'Argenterie"

Voldemort sat in thought. At this point, he wasn't really sure if he wanted the Count to join him or not. This in no way reflected on his opinion of the Count, himself. By all accounts, he was powerful, ruthless, unforgiving and quick to anger; just the sort of man he was looking for. _Was_ looking for. But after a sunny afternoon in Tuscany, sipping his drink and soaking in the tub,_ is_ he looking for anyone? Hmm. Maybe, he thought with an uncharacteristic smirk, it was a young, comely lass to join him in his bubbles that he _really_ sought. Hmm.

"Master?" asked Richards when Voldemort didn't finish his last blink. Startled, the Dark Lord opened his eyes and jerked back, reflexively.

"Just thinking," he muttered. Sitting up straighter, he asked, "When does the sun set?"

Not having such information at hand, Richards gave it his best guess. "Well," he said, "it was still twilight when we arrived last night so I'd say around sixish?" He shrugged. Hoping to forestall any retribution for his inaccuracy, he added, "That's about two hours from now." He had noticed his master wasn't wearing a watch.

"Very well," said Voldemort. "Have supper ready at five. I'll change and be ready to receive our guests." He stood up and, with the assistance of Richards, managed to climb out of the hot tub. Swaying a bit in the breeze, he thought that a short nap might also be in the cards. He wanted to be a bit more rested and a lot more sober when the fabled Count L'Argenterie came to visit.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the delays between chapters. I just have to be careful not to slip into the prophecy before I'm ready. After Easter, I should have more time. Here's to the next 100 chapters.

Dad


	101. Chapter 101

Chapter 101 - Making Plans

November 17th, 1997

Late Afternoon in an improvised workroom at Number 14, Grimmauld Place.

"I'm afraid I don't get your so called point." Tonks looked across the work table at her betrothed.

"A bit higher, please," said Remus. Tonks was unenthusiastically holding what appeared to be a small copper flag. At least that was the nearest counterpart to anything distinguishable to a common object. He waited for her to comply before consulting his notes and casting a quick reciprocity spell on the underside of the flag where it joined the staff.

"Perhaps a better way to phrase it is that it wouldn't be fair to our guests," offered Remus. "Especially at this late date." He took the flag and planted it in the middle of a round plate that was setting on the table between them. Temporarily fixing it in place, he moved on to the next task; adjusting the fluting on the edge of the disk. Before he cast the next spell, he grabbed his glass and took a sip of mead. Ordinarily, he wouldn't mix alcohol and intricate spell casting, but the discussion with Tonks required extra fortification of his nerves. Cautiously, he said, "I'm sure that scheduling our wedding on St. Valentine's Day would conflict with at least a dozen people's plans." Surreptitiously, he snuck a peek at Tonks through his glass. He wished to determine her current state of mind.

"You're joking, right?" she asked, incredulously. "It's bloody three months away!"

"Not everyone leaves things to chance until the last minute," countered Remus. He placed the disk on the table and slowly transfigured its edges while also making the very tip of each flute translucent. Setting it aside, for now, he continued, "Now, one of my favorite holidays is the Harvest Festival. It'd be quite appropriate to get married on a day of thanks."

"That's in September," intoned Tonks, coldly. "It'd be another bloody year. You might as well have it on Guy Fawkes Day." She handed him an oddly shaped chunk of quartz crystal; the heart of the device.

"Excellent idea," said Remus, quite pleased with the notion. "We'd have fireworks that night and everything." Taking the crystal, he placed it inside a small, black box. The quartz was suspended between a myriad of previously enchanted bits of alabaster, silver, onyx and other materials that's specific contributions were channeled through the quartz and, ultimately, to the flag.

"I was kidding," said Tonks in an irritated tone. "I just don't want to wait forever to make an honest man of you."

"It won't be forever," laughed Remus. Taking the finished disk, he set it on the top of the box. Using highly advanced and, to a certain extent, classified magic, he changed the phase of the very atomic structure of both the crystal and the disk, allowing the disk to sink slowly into the heart of the mineral. When it was just where he wished, he reversed the spell, setting the all-important flag into position. With a relieved breath, he admitted, "To be honest, I just want to pick a good day so I won't forget our anniversary."

"Why not New Years, then?" asked Tonks, playfully.

Remus acted interested. "That's an excellent idea," he said. "I'd never be able to forget that, would I?"

"I would have hoped that any date would stick in your memory," said Tonks, "but if my dad is any example, that would be wildly optimistic."

"I suppose," said Remus. With a quick spell to change the robust flag into a more delicate arrow, he sealed the top of the now finished Death Eater detector. "Maybe we should get married _then_." He set the device next to the one finished late last night.

Despite her earlier chides about delays, Tonks was a bit leery of choosing such a close date. "Do you think we could have everything set up by then? It's just a bit over a month away, you know."

"A month?" asked Remus, confused. "Oh, I didn't mean _this _New Years."

"What?" exclaimed Tonks. "You expected me to wait over a year?"

"Well, actually," explained Remus, "while we were talking about making it easier to remember New Years, it occurred to me to have it all. If we got married in 2000, I'd be able to remember the year as well as the day." He looked at her with enthusiastic eyes.

"REMUS!" shouted Tonks, jumping to her feet before chasing her laughing lover out of the room.

* * *

At Voldemort's new favorite stronghold - just after sundown.

"You're sure of your translation?" asked Voldemort. "He definitely wrote that he'd be coming tonight, at sundown?" Count L'Argenterie had not yet arrived nor been discovered by his long range detectors.

"Yes, Master," said a very nervous Simon Richards. He was already a bit emotionally rocked by the somewhat mixed reception his advances into the realm of heathy food had met at supper. Actually, it wasn't all that mixed. He didn't need further aspersions cast on his abilities in other areas.

The Dark Lord wasn't pleased. Who did this Count think he was; royalty? Voldemort wasn't accustomed to waiting for anyone. They waited for him. That was the natural scheme of things in his world. He had prepared both his men and his house to be properly impressive for his expected guest. His official guard stood about him in asymmetrical, yet aesthetically balanced formations. He had chosen the entrance courtyard as the proper place to meet. The glow of the setting sun would be his backlight when the Count approached his court. It was all going to be so perfect.

Now, as the time set for the meeting came, and went, the light faded and the men became restless. Voldemort fidgeted in his chair, wishing he'd opted for the cushion that Richards had offered. The large wooden chair had seemed comfortable enough at the time, but this extended stay was putting a bit of pressure on his tail bone. It was now a full fifteen minutes past sundown and the last vestiges of patience had evaporated. "Where in the bloody hell is he?" asked Voldemort.

"I don't know, Master," answered Richards, not recognizing the rhetoric nature of the question.

"Perhaps he was delayed," suggested another voice from nearby in the shadows.

"Delayed by what?" asked the Dark Lord. "His finicky stomach?"

"One never knows," answered the voice. "More than one meeting has been postponed by a bad truffle."

This comment caught Voldemort off guard. For one thing, such a remark, made rather flippantly, was seldom spoken in his presence and never to him personally. The main reason for his distraction, though, was that he didn't recognize the voice. "Who are you?" he asked, turning towards the voice.

"Excusez-moi," answered the man, stepping into the light. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Comte L'Argenterie. I believe you have been expecting me." He bowed briefly before extending his hand in greeting.

Voldemort was taken aback by the apparent ease with which a stranger had managed to slip next to him, surrounded as he was by his best men. Supposedly best. Not wishing to also let slip knowledge of his confusion, he bowed as well and grasped the count's hand briefly. "Good evening, Count L'Argenterie. I am Lord Voldemort. I am very pleased that you were able to arrange to meet with me on such short notice." He was surprised at the appearance of his guest. Count L'Argenterie had about fifty pounds of surplus weight suspended, for the most part, around his waist. A few pounds had been reserved, though, to make a backup chin, or two. What was left of his gray hair indicated that he was firmly ensconced in the 'elderly' category.

"Fate shone favorably on your request," said the Count. "I am currently involved with a project that seems to be destined to consume the better part of this year, but there is a current lull between stages. If you had written next week, I most likely couldn't have spared the time." He then proceeded to an area nearby that was well stocked with an assortment of beverages and appetizers. Picking through the treats, he settled on stuffed mushroom escargot. Sampling it, he remarked, "This is quite tasty. I was delayed during another errand, earlier this afternoon, and was forced to miss my own supper. I hope you won't mind if I partake of some of your hors d'oeuvres." Without waiting for permission, he took one of the nearby plates and proceeded to fill it with the skill of an expert.

"Help yourself," said Voldemort, unnecessarily. As Richards poured a glass of wine for the Count, Voldemort was trying to reconcile his eyes with the reputation of a man who supposedly could strike terror in the heart of the bravest man by his merest glance; who filled cemeteries with the families of his enemies; who could move like a ghost anywhere he wished without being seen or detected. Well, that one seemed to be true enough.

"These are excellent," commented L'Argenterie. "Is that lemon I taste?"

"Yes, Count," replied Richards, seeing that the Count was currently enjoying the marinated olives. "Actually, it's the zest from lemon. The olives are marinated in olive oil with the lemon zest, garlic and a few herbs."

"Fabulous," replied the Count. "Would you mind if my men joined us?"

"The more the merrier," replied Richards before realizing that it was to his boss that the Count was speaking.

"Thank you," said L'Argenterie, graciously. Raising his hand, he snapped his fingers before moving on to the next treat. Eight men, spread throughout the groups of Death Eaters, left their positions and came forward to join their employer in the inspection of the buffet. This display of infiltration prowess didn't please Voldemort, of course, but the ability aroused his interest. Count L'Argenterie might have other uses than the intended one.

"Count L'Argenterie," began the Dark Lord, walking casually next to his rotund guest, "I'm not aware, of course, of your obligations, but perhaps we'll find some common interests that would be sufficiently tempting to lure you away from your current project. If we could step over..."

"The only thing tempting me at the moment," interrupted the Count, "are those cookies. Those are Palmiers au basilic, n'est pas?"

"What?" asked Voldemort, confused.

"Yes, they are," answered Richards, pulling back from serving their other guests. "I had a bit of trouble with the new oven, but they came out alright, I think."

"A bit too much basil," countered the Count after tasting one, "or maybe it's just the Italian basil. I've found that it has a bit more bite than the French variety that I'm used to. I'd suggest using maybe two-thirds the normal quantity while in Italy."

"Thank you," replied Richards, pleased. "I'll try that, next time."

"I think you'll like the results," continued the Count. "I'm fond of basil in a variety of foods. I've got a great recipe for Italian sausage stromboli that uses basil to great effect."

"Oh, I just _love_ stromboli," gushed Richards, leaning over the table. "It's been months since I've made any, though."

"I'll send you the recipe," offered Count L'Argenterie, reaching into his robes for a quill.

"If we could continue," interjected Voldemort.

"By all means, go on," said the Count, gesturing further down the buffet line while finishing up his note. "I'll catch up after I try one of those gougeres." He happily put a few of the cheese puffs on his plate.

Voldemort was dumbstruck. How had he lost control so quickly? Looking around for a clue, his gaze fell on his so-called guards. They were still standing mutely where he had placed them for the Count's arrival. Peering closely, he noticed something else. "What has happened to my Death Eaters?" he asked, as if to himself.

Count L'Argenterie looked up from his latest treat, a tortellini kabob, at the question. "Oh, I am sorry, Lord Voldemort," he apologized. "Allow me." He set his plate down before clapping his hands together with a look of moderate concentration. Instantly, the Death Eaters that had surrounded the Dark Lord came back to life. The murmuring of discontent lasted for just a few seconds before a hand gesture from their Master silenced them.

"Very impressive," said Voldemort, insincerely. "Perhaps you could explain why you felt compelled to do that."

"Just a demonstration," replied the Count. He moved over to a nearby table to enjoy his impromptu supper. Sitting down, he explained. "I'm semi-retired, you see. Instead of extortion, assassination, political manipulation and subjugation, I'm now involved in the more ancillary position of consultant."

"Consultant?" asked Voldemort.

"Yes," replied the Count. "I offer analysis and advice; for a fee, of course, to those interested in protecting themselves against people like my former self. As you have probably noticed, you, yourself, would be very wise to invest in my services."

Voldemort didn't particularly care for the tone of the comment. Then again, he also didn't care for the fact that he had had his security breached, his men petrified and been overrun without even knowing it. "I believe we might have a discussion or two on the matter," he allowed. "First things first, though. If you could join me in the arbor, we could converse on the reason I wished for us to meet with more privacy." He gestured towards a magnificent marble arch supported by an octet of elegantly carved Doric columns. The arbor was situated on a raised area of the courtyard and faced out over the countryside so it would be fairly removed from eavesdroppers.

With a last check to make sure they couldn't be overheard, he joined his guest and the two of them sat down to conduct their business, at last.

"The reason I originally invited you," began Voldemort, "was to fill a specific role in my organization. In essence, I'm looking for a replacement for my most, shall we say _enthusiastic_ followers. Your reputation led me to believe that you would be suitable in that capacity. Now that we've met, however, I'm not entirely sure that you're the man for the job. Please pardon my bluntness, but you seem to be, well, how should I put this?"

"A balding, jovial older gentleman who seems to enjoy his treats a bit too much?" suggested L'Argenterie. He smiled as he bit into his roasted mushroom and brie tartlet.

"Exactly," said Voldemort.

"Ah, yes," agreed L'Argenterie. "I'm afraid I've begun to give that impression. However, though semi-retired, as I've mentioned, I still try to stay abreast of the regional situation. I've heard about your diminishing ranks, even in Aquitaine. The werewolf Greyback. The mad Carrow family. The ruthless Antonin Dolohov. The frightening Belatrix Lestrange. Even the great Lucius Malfoy. All gone, now; one way or the other."

"Yes," replied Voldemort through gritted teeth. "My oldest and most effective minions have fallen by the wayside. My last loss, Macnair, left me without anyone to properly fulfill his function."

"I had a similar experience which led to my own adjustments," said the Count. "In my case, of course, my most trusted and experienced men just grew too old. Sad, really. However, as to your specific problem, I might be able to help. Basically, you need an enforcer or two."

"Essentially correct," agreed Voldemort. "I need someone who is quick to anger and ruthless in retribution. Someone who would be almost as feared by those reticent to cooperate as if I had dropped in. It would be best if they were cunning, as well, but I still have that covered."

"But of course," replied the Count. He sat back, sipping his wine in thought. After a few seconds, he said, "I might know just the pair. They're brothers. I'd guess they're in their mid to late twenties. Fairly large. Make that uncommonly large, actually. They definitely have the ability to invoke fear in those around them and are quite powerful, magically. They're a bit unpredictable, though, and quite temperamental. They've expressed an interest in working for me, although I have no doubt that they would have used the opportunity to learn my secrets before moving on to their own pursuits. Personally, I do not believe that they have the mental resources necessary to set up on their own, but they would be quite useful as underlings to the right wizard in the right circumstances."

"They sound interesting," said Voldemort. "Where are they now and what are their names?"

"I'm terribly sorry," apologized Count L'Argenterie. "Perhaps I didn't mention that I'm now earning a living as a consultant. I'm perfectly willing to discuss your situation while enjoying your fine hors d'oeuvres, but when it comes to specific solutions..." He rubbed his thumb against his finger tips in the international sign for 'cross my palm with silver'.

Voldemort wasn't particularly happy bargaining with L'Argenterie, especially since the Count was talented enough at the art to shame a rug merchant, but he figured that he could pay for the information or take the chance that L'Argenterie and his men would vanish in the night, along with his silverware. In the end, a two part payment was arranged. The first half, consisting of twenty thousand galleons, a preliminary contract to determine various methods for improving the security around the villa, two binding favors to be used as needed, recipes to three of the more succulent appetizers and an order of twenty-seven hundred and forty-six galleons worth of Amway products, would be tendered tonight in exchange for having the Count arrange for the two brothers to visit. The last part, all in gold, would come only if an agreement was reached between them and Voldemort. With a final handshake, the deal was sealed.

After the Count and his party had left, Voldemort had time to reflect on the evening. Using Richards as a sounding board, he said, "There is more to L'Argenterie than there seems."

"That's hard to believe," replied Richards, "considering how much there is that's clearly visible." He giggled as he cleared away some of the empty plates.

"I meant," said the Dark Lord, "that he isn't as semi-retired as he'd have us believe. His knowledge and connections could cause trouble in the future. Have our local informants find out what they can about him and what he's up to."

"I don't think it would be advisable to meddle in the affairs of Count L'Argenterie," came a retort.

"I wasn't asking for your opinion," snapped back Voldemort.

"I didn't say anything, Master," replied a shaken Simon Richards. Looking first at each other, they scanned the area, but found themselves alone.

* * *

November 18th, 1997

The next morning

Vernon Dursley walked down the main road that defined the edge of the hamlet of Skinnet. He was looking for a business that was rumored to be located near the southern end. Detailed directions weren't available, though, so he, along with his good friend, Karl, took a leisurely stroll from just south of the last house.

"Karl is being wondering," asked Kreacher, "why Vernon isn't just being having wizards make this disk thingy with magic." After spending several weeks in each others company, he had picked up some of Vernon Dursley's vocal mannerisms. When he wasn't paying sufficient attention, Vernon sometimes found himself reciprocating.

"We're looking for two things that they can't do with their little sticks," replied Vernon. "One is precision and the other is repeatability. If someone is at the maximum distance, an error of so much as a degree would put you ten miles off. From what I saw, that was about the best Hermione could do. My device'll be better than that, of course, but I need to get to at least a 10th of a degree or it would be bloody useless. Even that would only get you within a mile."

"And Vernon is being hoping that this muggle workshop is being able to do what wizards is not?" asked Kreacher.

"And then some, Karl," replied Vernon, smugly. "Almost any competent shop could have machined to at least a 10th of a degree since the fifties. If they have CNC machines, I'd expect the accuracy to go up to 1/100th or more. The precision mill in my old shop could've done 1/1000th if necessary. Pity we can't use ... Here we are." He abruptly stopped the thread of the conversation when they reached their destination.

Hiding down an alley between an abandoned railway platform and a broken down, but still operational textile factory, stood Gunderson's Machining and Small Engine Repair. The Quonset hut looked like, and probably was, a leftover from World War II. The paint job might very well have been original, as well. Only the fact that a small flume of smoke rose from a battered stovepipe prevented the misconception that the building was deserted. Without delay, Vernon walked up to the pea green door and, after knocking twice, turned the knob and walked in.

The whine from an electric motor with a slightly rusty thrust bearing was the only response to the knocks. From the looks of the place, the receptionist had retired years ago, along with the cleaning woman. Following the sound, the odd pair negotiated a path through disassembled lawnmowers, boxes of nuts and bolts, a grinder setting precariously on the edge of an orange crate, an outboard motor strapped to a feed trough, two coat racks holding an assortment of drive belts, a trash can literally overflowing with Slim Jim wrappers, a virtual mountain of Archie comic books and what appeared to be three formerly white socks, apparently filled with small parts, soaking in a basin of petroleum jelly.

"Clever idea," said Vernon, peering at the socks. "Dip 'em in some solvent in a day or so and you'd be good to go." They moved on around a partial wall that finally brought the owner into sight.

"Just a second," said the somewhat gangly man. He pulled a bit harder on the drill press for a few seconds until the bit finished its way through the quarter inch plate of mild steel. Releasing the arm, he turned off the machine and picked up a filthy rag to wipe his hands. "Good morning. What can I be doing for you gentlemen?" He led the way to a clearing on the floor and sat in a chair by an old metal desk. He gestured at a single folding chair nearby; apparently willing to let Vernon and Kreacher decide between themselves who would use it.

Vernon appraised the rusting chair's weight capacity and chose to remain standing. "Good morning," he began. "I assume you're Mr. Gunderson?" He extended his hand.

"George Parkins, actually," replied Mr. Parkins. "Bought the place from Old Man Lansing's widow 'bout fifteen years ago." He opened the drawer and pulled out a Slim Jim.

"Old Man Lansing?" asked Vernon.

"Yeah," said Parkins. "Not sure when he bought the place. Guess none of us ever bothered to change the sign." He took a bite out of his snack before remembering to offer some to his guests.

Vernon waved off the offer and said, "I see. It doesn't matter, I suppose." Looking around, he continued, "I'm not sure you'll be able to help me. I need some fairly precise milling done that it seems you might not be equipped to do."

"Oh, don't be too sure of that," said Parkins. "This 'ere's just the small engine part of the business. The millin's done out back." He then grinned before adding, "of course, that was more the specialty of Old Man Lansing. Don't get much call for that sort of work around here. I know enough to shave an edge off something if I have to or put in a slot and so forth, but to be honest, half of them machines with their dials and wheels don't mean nothing to me."

Vernon wasn't too pleased with that, but said, "Well, let's see what you have and we'll go from there." With a nod from Mr. Parkins, the three of them walked out the back of the workshop and stopped before a much newer, though still old, cinder block building with some severely dirty windows and twin carriage house doors. Reaching into his pocket, Parkins pulled out a key and unlocked the padlock holding the doors together. With a shove, the creaking hinges indicated their state of disuse as the morning sun illuminated the machine shop half of the business.

"I'll tell you one thing about either Gunderson or Lansing," said Vernon, straight off, "they didn't have much British loyalty." Several aged machines were scattered across the concrete floor. Most bore the name Bridgestone but more than one had the raised lettering of Cincinnati on their sides.

"I suppose beggars can't be choosers," replied Parkins. "I'm pretty sure that none of this was bought new. Out here in the middle of nowhere, you have to take the best that's available, I guess."

"I guess so," repeated Vernon, taking a closer look around. There was a lathe, of course; a surface grinder, a gear shaper whichVernon thought that might be made to serve in a pinch, a broaching machine, a hone and three drill presses. His first choice, though was the mill setting near the middle of the building. There was just one little problem.

"Forgot about that," said Parkins. "Don't use it much, like I told you. Had a bit of trouble with it last summer, or was that the summer before? Anyway, it started to make a racket when it was running so I took it apart to find the problem. Couldn't find out what was causing the noise but I suppose it's quiet enough, now." A large number of the parts which formerly resided inside the machine now rested on its bed.

"Bloody hell," said Vernon. Then, with a shrewd look on his face, he said, "I think we might be able to come to an arrangement."

* * *

Noon, just down the alley from Jim Sarus' Jewelry Shop

"I hate to bother them at lunch time," said Hermione. She hadn't had the time to resist when Harry had decided, on the spur of the moment, that they could start the process for replacing her diamond.

"Store owners never take lunch at noon," said Harry. "That's when their customers are free to shop." He had heard his aunt mention that once and, being one of the few useful things she had said in his presence as a child, he remembered it.

"I suppose that makes sense," said Hermione. "If they're eating, though, I'm leaving." She picked up the pace a bit.

"Fair enough," said Harry. They neared the door when they noticed a sign. 'Going out of business sale. Everything must go.' With concerned looks on their faces, Harry and Hermione walked in.

Seven other customers were perusing the items on display with Jim and Ruby helping the best they could. A smallish young man was examining some large gold chains while a middle aged couple were viewing some pearls. When Jim saw Harry, he broke free and came right over.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," he said excitedly. "Or is it afternoon, yet? I see you've brought your wife. Well, as you can see, you'd better hurry and pick out what you'd like. Just two more weeks to go before we close."

"What's happened?" asked Harry. "Why are you going out of business?" He knew that business in general had slowed lately but the Sarus' had seemed to still do alright.

"What's happened?" asked Jim. "We're retiring; that's what's happened. We've decided to do a bit of traveling and just enjoy ourselves for a few years. You had a bit to do with making that possible, of course. You've been my best customer this year; buying all those rings and charms. Especially the engagement ring. That's what really put us over the top." He glanced at Hermione's hand automatically.

Before what he didn't see could register, Harry said, "Funny you should mention Hermione's ring. We stopped by today to check on replacing the diamond. It was lost, you see, and... Mr. Sarus?" Jim Sarus had collapsed onto the floor. Harry had grabbed his hand as he fell and was able to slow the decent but he still hit pretty hard.

"Jim!" shouted Ruby, dropping a tray of earrings onto the floor to rush to her husband. "Are you alright?" She felt his forehead and looked into his suddenly pale face. With a jerk, Jim, who still had a hand being held by Harry, felt a surge of energy revitalize his momentarily stopped heart and he regained awareness. Once more, Harry had instinctively used up a tiny part of his life force.

"I'm alright," said Jim, shaking his head. He looked over as a few customers were picking up the dropped jewelry and placing it back onto the dropped tray. He didn't worry about anything coming up missing. Most people, he knew, wouldn't take what wasn't theirs even when given a golden opportunity.

"Perhaps I should take you to St. Mungo's," said Harry, preparing to apparate. He turned to his wife to tell her to stay with Ruby.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," said Jim, trying to stand. Harry and Ruby both helped him to his feet. "It was just a shock."

"What happened," asked Ruby. She was still quite concerned although the color had returned to Jim's face.

"I'm afraid that we might not be retiring after all," said Jim, solemnly. "You see..." He pointed at Hermione's ring.

Ruby looked for a few seconds before saying, "Oh, my God. It's gone." She looked at Jim in horror. "But that's impossible."

"It's _supposed_ to be impossible," said Jim. "Apparently, the Potters found a way." He looked at Harry and Hermione for an explanation.

Hermione now understood their distress. "It was lost the same time we thought that Harry was killed," she explained. "I can't give you any details, but let's just say that it isn't likely to be repeated."

"You can say that again," said Harry. He wasn't planning to fight any more elemental creatures if he could help it.

"That's reassuring," said Jim. "Still, a guarantee is a guarantee. We'll honor our end of the deal." He walked over and took down one of the 'Going out of business' signs.

"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Harry. "I wouldn't be able to sleep nights knowing I forced you to work twenty more years. I insist on paying for the replacement. It wasn't your fault that it fell out."

"You're very kind," said Jim, "but..."

"No arguing," said Hermione in her authoritative voice. "If you don't like it, we'll have to take our business elsewhere." She put her hands on her hips.

Jim looked at Harry and said, "Never argue with women."

"I've already figured that out for myself, thank you," said Harry. They all laughed and proceeded to make their arrangements.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall.

"According to this schedule," said Neville, examining, not surprisingly, a schedule, "we might not be able to visit the Butter Cross at all. The last tour was in October." He set down the pamphlet on the table and took another look at Hermione's list.

"I don't think that will be much of a problem," said Luna. "After all, it's all outdoors. We'll just have to walk around Otley on our own instead of in a tour." She looked at Neville and felt that something else was bothering, or at least disappointing him. "Is there another problem?" She set her butterbeer on the table next to his.

"Oh, no," answered Neville, quickly. "Not at all." He cringed a bit as he read the look on her face that clearly said he had been caught in a fib. "Well," he admitted, "I was sort of looking forward to the program. The way Harry described the dancing girls, er, well..."

Luna laughed. "Oh, Neville." She put her arm around his shoulder in comfort. "If you'd like, I could remind Hermione of an idea she mentioned once about teaching some of us girls the dances. From what I remember, it was the thought of Susan doing one of the dances that caught Harry's interest."

Neville instinctively looked over at the Hufflepuff table at the top-heavy lass in question. At any given moment, up to seven other boys were doing the same, or wishing they were. "I'll have to admit," said Neville, "that I'd be willing to pay to see _her_ doing the dances Harry described." He had a dreamy smile on his face.

"You and every other boy in the school," said Luna, flatly. She leaned even closer to his ear and whispered, "Once, I overheard Seamus and Dean trying to figure out a way to trick her and Daphne into a foot race just so they could watch them catch their breath." They both laughed.

"What's so funny?" asked Ginny, coming up behind them unexpectedly. She gave Neville a quick kiss and sat next to him, smiling. Luna pulled her arm back to her side and scooted an inch or so further away.

"Oh," said Neville, blushing. "Ah, nothing." He reached for some scalloped potatoes.

"Nothing?" asked Ginny, her smile now history. "It _seemed_ that you two were having quite the conversation while I was walking up the aisle. It might even have been a bit personal, or was I mistaken?"

"We were talking about our plans for this weekend," said Neville, changing the subject back a few minutes. Ginny would know that he was being less than truthful about this, but he certainly didn't want to let her know his thoughts had drifted to Susan's impressive figure. Ginny was barely able to achieve B-cup status on a good day and she was definitely jealous of those girls who were further down the alphabet.

Ginny looked past her boyfriend at the blonde, fair-skinned, blue-eyed, C-cup sitting next to him. "Your plans?" she asked, coldly. "What sort of plans were the two of you making?"

"He meant 'our' plans," said Luna, trying to head off a misunderstanding, "as in the three of us. Places to visit." She held up one of the pamphlets for evidence.

Ginny didn't say anything for a second as she retooled the gears in her brain to comprehend what they were talking about. "Oh," she said, simmering down, "that. I guess that's understandable, then." She began to fill her plate while Neville and Luna briefly glanced at each other in relief and did the same. After a minute, Ginny asked, "Are there any hotels on the list?"

Neville and Luna both looked confused. Luna picked up Hermione's list and examined it. "I don't think so," she answered. She put the parchment back on the table.

"That's odd," said Ginny. "From the way you had your arm around Neville and were whispering and laughing, I'd have guessed you'd be making reservations." She stood up, glaring, and stormed off out of the Great Hall.

"You should go after her," suggested Luna, pushing Neville's arm.

"Should I?" asked Neville, watching the doorway that Ginny had passed through. He sat that way for two full minutes before quietly turning back to his meal.

* * *

Author's note: This one took a while because I had to indulge myself and write the first chapter of when the prophecy kicks in. I tentatively labeled it chapter 140 but that's just a guess. I couldn't stop thinking about it so I have it ready to go when we get that far. It might be a good thing. When we get to the end of the story, all twenty chapters will already be done so you won't have to wait.

See you next time.

Dad


	102. Chapter 102

Chapter 102 - Suppertime

November 18th, 1997

Suppertime at the Voldemort Stronghold at Penjerrick

Dinky stirred the large caldron on top of the stove. She had to stand on a box on a chair to see what she was doing but that was old news. Around her, the tops of five tables had strainers, graters, assorted knives of all types and a dozen mixing bowls, complete with spoons and spatulas, performing their various functions automatically, albeit extremely competently. Her skills in the kitchen, well known to any of Harvey Huntlinger's former visitors, were not only legendary; they were hereditary. Both she, as well as her sister, Winky, had been taught to cook by their mother, Julia; the greatest chef of the last century of elfdom. Even the muggles had heard rumors of her to the point that being a Child of Julia was synonymous with culinary supremacy.

That didn't concern Snape, at the moment. Well, the chocolate chip cookies currently cooking in the auxiliary oven did. He might have one when they came out. Perhaps two. He could stop anytime he wanted. Who's business but his was it, anyway? Lots of people liked cookies. Besides, he'd cut back to four or five... dozen a day. That wasn't too much. He didn't have a problem.

Anyway, he had other concerns. Why couldn't he solve this seemingly simple problem? He glanced at Dinky before going back to the map. Casting another variation on the Revealing Spell, he jotted down the activation password and waited a few seconds to see if it would work. As he was already holding onto the map, he walked towards Dinky. When he was three feet away, a purple name appeared. It said, simply, 'Someone'. That was as close as he had managed.

"Is Master Snape being needing anything?" asked Dinky. She had reached a point where she had a few seconds free to help. Having noticed that Snape had been performing this same procedure about two dozen times in the last hour, she felt obliged to offer.

"What?" asked Snape, surprised. "Oh, no." He then had a strange thought and changed his answer. "Actually, I do. I wish to have this map," at this point, he showed Dinky the map, "show everyone nearby." The map, with its two hundred yard range, just like those Harry used, had a couple dozen names. The Death Eaters who were specifically left marked, the wives and children of those married, with the exception of the wives who had also joined, of course, and the two surviving young girls they had captured over the last three weeks to 'entertain the troops'.

Dinky looked at the map for a moment before pointing her finger at it. Instantly, a hundred new names popped onto the parchment. This surprised Snape since the regulars should not have been able to be so easily identified. Looking closer, he also discovered that his name was also displayed. This should have been impossible in any event. With the personal version of the Unplottable Charm cast on him, there shouldn't have been any way for him to be identified. Even the new Dark Mark detector was useless on the select few of Voldemort's most trusted minions.

"How did you do that?" asked Snape in frustration.

"Dinky is using elf magic," explained Dinky, while going back to her caldron.

"No kidding," replied Snape, sarcastically. He took the map back to the table to examine it more closely. As he did so, he noticed one name, make that one _word_, a word in purple, fade away.

"Dinky," he said. "_You_ don't appear on this map." That was the original intent of the exercise, after all.

"Dinky is being sorry, Master Snape," said Dinky. She remained motionless for two seconds before returning to her cooking.

"Dinky," said Snape, wishing to pursue this with her, "I need to..." He stopped. There, very near to his name, was the name 'Dinky'. It was in black, this time. "How did you do that."

"Master Snape is being saying that Dinky should have her name on Master Snape's magic map," said Dinky, checking on the casseroles in the main oven.

"I know," said Snape. "Will all elves appear on this map, now?"

"Elves will be being on the map if their master's is being asking them," replied Dinky, closing the oven door for another few minutes.

"I want them to appear on the map even if their masters_ don't _want them to be so," sputtered Snape.

Dinky had reached the point where she needed to concentrate. Fortunately for her, as well as himself, Snape knew this. He stood by as Dinky caused the trays to hover by the plates and silverware as they set themselves, one by one. With a chromatic flourish, the salads tossed themselves into the bowls while the rolls, pre-buttered, set themselves on the edges of the trays along with the napkins. Three types of vegetables along with chicken, ham or steak fillets, depending on the recipient's preferences, all began to float onto the large dinner plates. The mashed potatoes scooped themselves out as the bowls filled with the soup of the day. Drinks were added along with the after-dinner mints before the trays flew off in search of their diners.

With the dinners on their way, Dinky had a moment to reply to Snape's last remark. Snape was more interested in his own dinner but managed to listen, anyway.

"Dinky is only being able to be letting Dinky be on Master Snape's map," she explained, moving over to the now cooled cakes, waiting to be frosted.

"I don't want you to _let _the map show you," said Snape, putting on his salad dressing. "I want it to show you by itself." He took his first bite.

"Dinky isn't being knowing how to be doing that," said Dinky. "Dinky isn't being changing Master Snape's map. Dinky is only being able to be making Dinky and Master's friends to be being showing on Master Snape's map."

Snape set down his fork. "You mean," he said slowly, "that you didn't change the map at all? You changed all of us?"

"That is being correct, Master Snape," replied Dinky, picking up her tub of chocolate frosting.

Snape lost his appetite. He thought he had been so close. Leaning back, he said, "Put us all back the way we were, Dinky." He closed his eyes to compose himself. When he reopened them, the original couple of dozen names were back in place. With a sigh, he pushed back his tray and pulled the map towards himself. After a few seconds, he realized that he was still hungry. Not wishing to take the time for the meal served him and needing some comfort food, he asked, "Are the cookies done, yet?"

* * *

Suppertime at Hogwarts

"Where's Neville?" asked Harry, looking around as he and Hermione sat down for supper. He was speaking more or less directly to the redhead sitting across from him.

"How should I know?" asked Honey, taking a moment away from her salad. She seemed a bit miffed, but that was more or less normal for her, these days.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry, taking a closer look. It seemed as if he was about to say something else when he changed his mind. He proceeded to fill his plate without further comment.

Honey sat still for a moment before firing up. "We do _not _look alike," she hissed. She slapped her fork down onto the table in irritation.

"I didn't say you did," argued Harry. He tried to blend into the woodwork.

"You were thinking it pretty loud," muttered Hermione. She didn't mention that she had momentarily made the same error.

"So I guess the question needs to be ramped up to where's Neville and Ginny," said Harry, moving on.

"Don't forget Luna," chimed in Dean. He and Seamus both glanced at each other with an amused conspiratorial look before pretending to go back to their meals.

Harry looked a bit, make that a lot, confused, so Hermione asked the sought after question. "So, where's Luna?" She looked at the two smirking Gryffindors, waiting for them to spill the beans.

"If I had to guess," began Seamus, pretending to give the question great thought, "I'd say she was with Neville."

"Neville?" asked Harry. "Then where's Ginny?"

"_Not_ with Neville," answered Dean. He and Seamus went back to their meals.

Harry sighed. He took a bite of his salad before venturing forth with, "Is it safe to ask why Ron isn't here?"

Honey, who doesn't look anything at all like Ginny, with the exception of her hair color, height, weight, skin tone and freckles, replied, "He had an early supper so that he could prepare for quidditch practice tonight."

"Oh," said Hermione. She buttered her roll while continuing with, "I'm surprised you didn't eat in your suite with him, then."

"He's preparing for quidditch practice, tonight," repeated Honey. "I _thought_ it would be less annoying eating here." She gave Harry a look that conveyed her opinion that she might have been mistaken.

"If you wanted an annoyance free life," said Hermione, "I'm afraid you've married the wrong man." She glanced at Harry before adding, "Of course, it could have been worse."

"All I did was ask a simple question," protested Harry. He felt more than a little bit persecuted.

"I can't believe that Harry's more annoying than Ron," countered Honey, ignoring, and ironically annoying, Harry.

"He reached his peak when he made me think I was a widow," said Hermione. "On average, though, you might be right. Harry's capable of frequent bursts of high levels of irritation, but Ron's more consistent and dependable. I'm not sure which of them is worse."

Harry decided to remain silent, hoping that without his stoking the fire, the two would grow tired of their comparison. While attempting to focus on his meal, he noticed that the resident centaur, Firenze, was making his way along the wall to his simulated outdoor classroom just off the side of the great hall. This reminded him of a forgotten task so he decided to strike while the iron was hot. "Excuse me," he said to those interested in hearing him. Rising, he took one step before Hermione caught up.

"Where are you going," she asked, trying to decide whether anywhere was worth missing the rest of supper.

"I just wanted a word with Firenze," answered Harry. "We'd talked of that a week or so ago, if you remember."

"We were going to speak with the herd in the forest," corrected Hermione, "but it wouldn't hurt to ask for some pointers on how to best go about that." She decided to join Harry at the expense of her unsated hunger.

Forty-five minutes later...

"What a bloody waste of time," steamed Hermione. She took several steps towards their usual places before noticing the tables had been cleared. Looking at her watch, she groaned. "Bloody hell. Supper ended five minutes ago and I'm starving." She threw her bag over her shoulder and took a step towards the door before turning back to Harry. Grabbing him by the arm, she said, "It's your bloody fault. _'Let's ask Firenze. We'll get some tips straight from the horse's mouth_.' Bloody meandering, obfuscating, flea-bitten ...can't answer a direct question..." She faded off before shaking Harry's arm. "Come on, then. Take me to our rooms before you head off to practice and I'll have Winky bring me something. Let's get going."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry, courteously. Without worrying about who might be watching, he popped them to their suite. Grabbing his Firebolt, but before heading to the quidditch pitch, he just had to add, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I wouldn't have bothered talking to Firenze if I'd known how hoof-hearted his advice would be."

Hermione froze. Slowly turning towards her husband as she pulled her wand, she warned, "I'll give you until the count of three. One..." Harry never heard 'two'.

* * *

A somewhat later suppertime at the Minister's Mansion

"Let me cut that for you, Greta," offered Minerva. She pulled Greta's plate over and began to cut the salmon patty into bite-sized pieces appropriate for Greta's bite size.

"Thanks, Miss Minerva," said Greta, pulling her milk glass closer while she waited. The top half-inch ended up on the table but vanished almost immediately as Loxley waggled his finger.

"You're lucky," said Kingsley. "I love salmon, but it doesn't love me." He took another bite of his ham steak.

"What do you mean, Uncle Shack?" asked Greta, licking off her fresh milk mustache. She moved the glass aside as her plate was replaced.

"I mean," explained Kingsley, "that I like the taste, but I get sick after I eat it." He thought a moment before adding, "About once a year or so, I eat some anyway and just pay the price." He began to load up his fork with some corn.

"That's too bad," said Greta, pouring some ketchup on her salmon. "I think it's delicious."

"So do I," agreed Minerva, "but I take mine with sour cream and lemon juice." She hadn't asked for the odd condiments but Loxley was listening. She wasn't officially_ his_ mistress but she did qualify as his master's so he deemed her comment as close enough to an order. Within three seconds, a tub and a bottle had journeyed from the icebox and pantry, respectively, to the table.

"Thank you," said Minerva, opening up the sour cream.

"I've never tried that," said Kingsley, watching her prepare her meal. "Looks interesting."

"Try it someday," said Minerva. They then continued on with their dinner.

Shortly afterwards, the hall clock struck the half hour. Greta noticed and, having almost finished her salmon, asked, "Where's Grampa? You said he'd be here by seven o'clock, Uncle Shack." When she was younger, she had no chance of pronouncing Kingsley, so they had agreed on the simpler nickname.

Kingsley also checked his watch. "That's what he told me," he replied. "Must have been delayed." Almost immediately, and with a minor burst of green flame, the Minister and Dawlish stepped into the kitchen.

"Grampa!" shouted Greta, jumping down and running to her grampa. With a grunt and a twirl, he picked her up and gave her a welcoming hug.

"How's my little girl?" he asked, setting her down. Looking around at the mostly empty plates, he then added, "Thanks for waiting to eat supper."

"No problem," said Kingsley. He finished the last bite of his pudding. "It's your fault, of course. I have orders to see that Greta, who generates enough energy to run any of us into the ground, any day of the week, get's plenty of rest."

"She's a growing girl," said Rufus, patting his granddaughter on the head. Returning to the original topic, he went over and, after giving a quick kiss to Minerva, sat next to her. "Anything left for Jack and me?" asked Rufus of Loxley.

"Yes, Master," answered Loxley, pointing his fingers as if he were conducting an orchestra. The icebox and oven doors popped open as dishes from the cupboard and silverware from the drawer arranged themselves to form two new place settings. Two salmon filets baked in phyllo were served.

Minerva glanced over and noticed that they were augmented with shiitake mushrooms and champagne sauce. "Why did you give Rufus and Jack salmon filets, when you had me eating just patties?" asked Minerva, eyeing the elf with a stern expression.

"Mistress Minerva was being telling Miss Greta that Mistress Minerva was being liking salmon patties," explained Loxley. "Loxley is being giving Mistress what she is being liking."

"I agree entirely," agreed Kingsley. "I was sitting right here when you said exactly that." He smirked at Minerva.

"I was merely trying," explained Minerva, "to show support for Greta's supper. Had I known that filets of such quality were available, I would have indicated my preferences."

"Why on earth did you feel the need to show support for Greta's supper in the first place?" asked Rufus, seasoning his filet to the hidden irritation of his small gourmet chef.

"I could sense," answered Minerva, "that she wasn't entirely enthusiastic about it. I thought sharing my own opinions might help."

"I didn't sense that," said Kingsley, "and I'm a trained observer."

"With all due respect," retorted Minerva, "bachelors, despite their training in other areas, are not the most observant when it comes to the capricious nature of children's taste."

"What's a batchler?" asked Greta. She had been finishing up the salmon patty in question while listening to the discussion.

"A bachelor," explained Minerva, "is a man who hasn't seriously considered marriage."

"Actually," replied Jack, "a bachelor is a man who _has_ seriously considered marriage." He smirked as well as Minerva gave him _the look_.

* * *

Once the late arrivals had finished dinner and Minerva had left to put Greta to bed, an activity long since devoid of any mention of brave knights and fire-breathing dragons, Rufus and Jack remained seated around the dining room table with Kingsley to discuss their late-afternoon activity.

"Well?" asked Kingsley.

"I'm not sure," said Jack. "Tonks was late so she just gave us the highlights. There might be more information waiting to be discovered, but this is what we have for now. It seems like it's all a reconnaissance mission, of sorts. While they're doing it, it's thorough enough, but it's also a bit of a part time operation. Tonks reported that her first scout did the first watch from ten last night until he was relieved this morning, also around ten. That first scout reported that nothing happened until two Death Eaters popped in around six o'clock this morning and stayed until about eight, but they only wrote down a few names. According to Tonks, the same thing happened during the second watch around eleven when another two showed up. She said they seemed to be more interested in the people they recognized than those they didn't. Once again, nothing happened after that until almost six, when they showed up again. She said it was the same story as the first two times with one exception. They were all over the map, like before, but instead of just a few names, they wrote down dozens for about a half hour. She reported that at the end, around a quarter after seven, they suddenly stopped and said 'That's all.' Then they left with their notes almost immediately."

"That's all," repeated Shacklebolt, thinking. "That's all 'what'?" he asked.

"That's what I want to find out," answered Rufus. "First, I want to establish that we are, in fact, seeing the normal pattern for the Windsor Castle crowd. Then, if something doesn't bust free, I have other resources to bring in." As those 'other resources' were even more secret than the elves, as well as probably illegal, he said no more.

* * *

Later that evening, on the quidditch pitch.

"Hit it harder, Archie!" shouted Ron, flying closer to his beater. "Remember; you don't need to worry about the weight of the bludger. The bat's enchanted to help with that." He blew his whistle to start the action, again.

From high above, Harry watched as the three principal chasers; Ginny, Dean and a younger girl named Helen Waite, tried to maneuver from one end to the other while the beaters attempted to keep the bludgers away from them. After just a few seconds, Ron's whistle sounded out again.

"Dean," called Ron. "You had the quaffle a good five seconds."

"Helen was out of range and Ginny was behind me," explained Dean. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Pass it back to Ginny," answered Ron. "Listen up, everyone. On average, any decent team will make an attempt to unbroom the player with the quaffle in three and a half seconds. Sometimes even faster. To keep them off guard, we need to hand it off within three seconds to another chaser. Ginny knows that the reverse pass to a player behind you is the least expected move which makes it the most likely to succeed. Go ahead and give it to her. Helen, try to stay nearby and be ready."

Again, they flew off. Again, the whistle blew for another correction. Harry watched the scene below in mild interest; his thoughts focused more on how he'd do when it was _his_ turn. Would he still be able to have the same magical rapport with the snitch that he enjoyed at their first practice? He circled the pitch to work off his anticipation.

Eventually, after Helen finally, _finally_, was able to catch a pass from Ginny and not only hold on, but send the quaffle on its way to Dean, did Ron decide to let Harry join in. Although not normally necessary for seeker practice sessions, Ron decided to keep the rest of the team working on their drills while he and Harry worked on the snitch. He reasoned that Harry might have more trouble if there were some other activities happening at the same time. While Harry looked away, he released the snitch. A quick count to ten and Ron's whistle proclaimed the start of the exercise. Thirty-five seconds later, it also tolled the end.

"Excellent, Harry," declared Ron, rushing over to retrieve the snitch. "Let try it again." They did try it again. And again; and again; and again. Each time, Harry was able to catch the formerly elusive snitch in under a minute. Ron decided to up the stakes to see how well Harry's new skill would fare with some competent competition. Bringing in the alternate chaser, he ordered, "Henry. Take over for Ginny. Ginny. You're the opposing seeker. Keep Harry off the snitch, if you can."

"Gladly," said Ginny, coldly. With a glance that would do Hermione proud, she streaked towards her former boyfriend and, giving him a slight nudge as she passed, awaited the release of the snitch.

"Good luck, Ginny," said Harry, insincerely. He wanted her to say something so he could judge her mood.

"Save it for your friend, Neville," said Ginny. "He's the one who'll need it." With that, she backed off just as Ron blew his whistle.

Despite the clues given by Dean and Seamus earlier at supper, Harry still didn't know what Neville might have done to earn Ginny's ire. He did sense, though, that it was possible, if not likely, that he was also on her list. He didn't know why but he knew how to find out. Knowing her fairly well, he knew that if he could get her complaining about something, she'd manage to bring all of her grievances to the party.

The first time out with the two of them playing seeker, Harry performed much the same as he had before. Within forty-five seconds, the snitch was his. He handed it back to Ron with a casual toss and a fake yawn.

Ginny was fit to be tied at the gesture, of course, but decided the best revenge would be catching the snitch before Harry, this time. They both heard it flutter away, but had to wait for Ron's whistle before they could start. Harry felt it as it flew around the far goals and pulled down into the stands. After about a minute, Ron signaled for everyone to resume their training. The quaffle was released and the rest of the team took to the air.

Ginny took off like a dart in the last direction she had heard the golden orb. She wasn't about to let Harry win twice. With fury in her eyes, she scanned the entire pitch like a falcon searching for a field mouse.

Harry watched the whole scene before him with mild interest. The reserve chaser, Henry Shepherd, was improving much quicker than normal and Harry wondered if his previous mediocre performance at the tryouts wasn't just nerves. He'd have to talk to Ron about that later, but for now, his most pressing concern was the snitch making its way under the skirting in front of the stands. Ginny was on the wrong side of the field and not paying too much attention to Harry, other than the occasional glare as she wondered why he hadn't yet moved.

Harry hadn't yet moved because he didn't have to. The snitch was coming his way so he just had to decide on where to make the intercept. If the snitch kept up with its current course, it would cut through the gap between the towers behind him in less than twenty seconds. Slowly backing up so as not to alert Ginny, he reached the proper point with five seconds to spare. By this time, he could see the rustle under the aprons in front of the stands and held out his left hand just in time. Slap! The surprised snitch flew directly into his palm. Kicking his Firebolt into a higher gear, he flew over to Ron.

"How'd you do that?" asked a shocked Ginny. "You weren't even flying around." She seemed to be more confused than angry.

"Just lucky, I suppose," answered Harry with a smirk to Ron. "Care to try again?"

"You'd better believe it," snarled Ginny, competitively. She waited with Harry while Ron let the snitch find a nice hiding spot, again. When the whistle blew, Harry wasted no time to start the chase.

"Coming through," he called, passing Ginny with a sudden burst of speed. He angled slightly downward so that she might believe he'd already begun his race to the snitch. Having a Firebolt of her own, she leapt forward and quickly caught up, taking a position just beneath and behind him in the classic 'blind spot' location. Harry, glancing over his shoulder, noticed she had disappeared, but at such a close range, he could sense her presence almost without conscious thought. Accelerating to about a hundred miles per hour, he skimmed the surface of the pitch for a short time before sling-shotting himself around the lower ring on the north end. Ginny was experienced enough to back off just enough to allow Harry to get in front of her but kept riding his tail like a shadow. He suddenly descended even lower to the point where he was clipping the highest blades of grass when he leaned to the right and stretched out his arm. Ginny, thinking he was about the grab the snitch, although she still didn't see it, came up beside him, leaning forward on her broom in an almost prone position, hoping for a steal. Harry circled a quarter of the circumference of the pitch in this configuration before suddenly veering sharply up and to the back. He then spiraled around to race at top speed for the western Ravenclaw tower. The snitch, he knew, was hiding behind it. He felt Ginny in hot pursuit but, given his head start, she'd never catch him. He looped over the top of the tower before making a suicidal dive straight down. Moments before impact, he activated the emergency brake while pulling out of the dive, grabbing the snitch before it could decide which direction in which to flee. He then leisurely flew around the tower, the snitch held proudly over his head.

"That's bloody not fair," said a steaming Ginny. "How the bloody hell did you know the snitch was there?"

"Experience," lied Harry. "Someday, with enough practice, you..."

"Practice?" exclaimed Ginny.

"Excellent idea," interjected Ron. He flew over and took the snitch. Pulling back a few feet, he ordered, "I think that you should take a turn on your own, Ginny. You're our reserve seeker, after all. We need to have you on top of your game, just in case something happens to Harry. You're a bit out of form, right now, so let's work it out. Now turn around and no peeking." He waited.

Ginny was spitting mad, at this point. She wanted nothing more than to be done with today's practice but she had just enough wits to realize that storming off might very well earn her the back-up chaser spot. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and waited. She didn't do so quite as silently as she could have, though.

"Out of form," she muttered, "Need to practice. Not a good enough seeker. Not a good enough girlfriend. We'll see about that." She seethed a bit more while she waited for her idiot brother to blow the bloody whistle.

When the whistle finally blew, she streaked off to about two hundred feet to see what could be seen. Going into a complex, but efficient, search pattern, she scanned the pitch for anything gold. The other players went through their maneuvers and drills, as they had before.

Harry, though, hovered near Ron, thinking about his former girlfriend's mutterings. Had she and Neville broken up again? It wouldn't surprise him, of course, but what did she mean by not being a good enough girlfriend? She might have displayed some annoying traits, from time to time, but he never thought she wasn't up to par as a girlfriend while they were dating. And why would that lead to the irritation she most assuredly was displaying towards him, right now? Well, he could try to make up for that, in any event. When Ron flew off to correct Helen's defensive moves, Harry subtly waved at Ginny to get her attention, and then, quite discretely, of course, he pointed towards the referee's booth at midfield. The snitch was currently hiding behind it; out of sight of both Ginny and Harry. He knew it was there, though.

Ginny, confused but curious, flew over to the indicated spot but in much too slow a manner. The snitch flew out and was off at top speed. Ginny pursued, now hot on its trail. To its credit, the snitch put up a good fight, flying through the support works of the stands, but Ginny was an experienced seeker and managed to corner and snag the winged beast in short order.

Ron blew his whistle. Ginny flew over and handed off the snitch with a smirk. "There you go, big brother," she said, with insincere sweetness. "I guess I'm not so terrible as you thought."

"I never said you were terrible," said Ron, confused. "I just said you could do with a bit of practice." Ron wasn't as aware as Harry of the moods of those around him. "Do you want another go alone or would you like another crack at Harry?"

Ginny was interrupted in requesting a rematch with Harry by Harry saying, "I'm done for the night, Ron. Let Ginny work with the snitch and I'll play opposing chaser and help you with Helen and Henry." He didn't wait for acknowledgment before flying up to take the chaser's position.

Ron was surprised, but agreeable. Harry surely didn't need any more seeker practice so he did as suggested and worked with the newest chasers for the rest of practice while occasionally relaunching the snitch for Ginny. The chasers improved a little and Ginny worked off most of her frustrated energy. She didn't say any more about her problems with Neville, though and left at the end of the allotted time with the rest of the team. Once again, Harry and Ron were the last on the pitch. It wasn't to sneak in extra training though. Harry had been thinking quite a bit during practice and had something to say that he was sure Ron would take the wrong way.

"Good practice tonight," said Ron, pulling the equipment chest onto the back of his carpet. "I think we might make an adjustment, next time, and try Henry as starting chaser and give Helen some time to observe. What do you think?"

"I think that they're both improving," said Harry, leading into what he didn't want, but felt compelled, to say. "In fact, I think if you moved Ginny to seeker, Dean, Helen and Henry could be a fair group of chasers."

"But you're seeker," said Ron, smiling confusedly. "Ginny's also a better chaser than any of the others."

Harry took a breath. "Ron," he began, hesitantly. Deciding to just get it over with, he said, "I can't play seeker, anymore." He stopped there, letting that information work its way into Ron's brain.

Ron's brain didn't like the looks of that sentence and turned it away at the border. Seeking a retransmission of what must have been a garbled communication, he asked, "Could you please repeat that?"

"I can't be seeker," repeated Harry. "I'm resigning." Again, he waited.

"But, but, but..." stuttered Ron. "You _can't_ resign. You were great before. Now you're..."

"Unbeatable," finished Harry. Ron nodded, enthusiastically. "Yes, I know. That's the problem. I _know_ where the snitch is. I know it from the moment it's set free to the moment I catch it. No one can beat me. That's why I can't play. It wouldn't be fair. It'd be like cheating."

"But, but, but..." stuttered Ron, again. He didn't understand the problem but went ahead with one possible solution, just the same. "Can't you just_ not_ know where it is? Just look for it like you used to?"

"Cheat to lose?" asked Harry. "It'd still be cheating, but since I'd still want to win, I'd just be toying with the other teams. Making it look close before flying over and grabbing the snitch at the last second. I can't do that, either. I'm sorry, Ron. Until Fawkes and I aren't sharing the same body and I wouldn't have an unfair advantage, I can't play."

Ron stood dumbstruck. How could Harry do this to him? Not play because you were _too good_? It just didn't make sense. It wasn't right. It was... It was... It _was_ right. Harry _was_ right. Quidditch was more than a game to Ron; it was a major part of his life; of who he was. Ron would work his team ragged to make them the best. He's stay up nights devising clever plays. He'd give all he could give to help the team. But he wouldn't cheat. That would make any victory tainted and worthless. It wouldn't be worth winning that way. With dawning comprehension and acceptance, he said, "You're right. It wouldn't be fair. I... I understand." His grimace turned ever so slightly into a stoic smile as he bumped Harry on the shoulder before the two of them headed back to the castle.

* * *

Later that night in the Gryffindor Girl's Dormitory

Ginny walked across the common room carrying her training pack and Firebolt while wearing her nightgown, bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. As a veteran quidditch player who was also familiar with her brother's fanatical devotion to the game, she had learned quite quickly to pack the three (or was it officially four?) clothing items in her pack so they'd be handy for after her shower. The energy required to make a special trip after an extended practice to retrieve them might not always be available, given the five flights of stairs separating the common room with her wardrobe. A few people observed her as she made her way to the stairs, now clean, relaxed and somewhat rested. The watchers included most of the girls from her dorm room, but she didn't consider their extra attention as unusual, considering her attire. With a short stop to gather her returning strength, she started on up.

Entering the sixth year's room, she noticed that only one other girl was present. Tossing her pack on the bed, she began a generic greeting when she noticed that the other girl wasn't the normal occupant of that particular section of the tower. She finished the automatic motion of leaning her broom against her wall before turning to face the intruder.

"Hello, Ginny," said Luna, softly. "We need to talk."

"Certainly," retorted Ginny, coldly. "I wouldn't want you to make some of the mistakes I did. Let's see... Neville hates to be touched lightly; ticklish, you see. Especially the back of his neck. Perhaps you've already discovered that. I've found that clasping my hands behind him while we're kissing helps prevent unfortunate incidents."

"Thank you," said Luna, sweetly, "but I haven't noticed that problem. I'll keep it in mind, though."

"Oh," said Ginny, taken aback by the polite response. She decided she might have been too subtle. "Let's see. Have you noticed that he ..."

"Ginny," interrupted Luna, a pained look on her face. She paused to see if Ginny would remain silent. She did.

"Ginny," repeated Luna, rising from the dressing table chair, "It's been just ten days since I buried my boyfriend. I miss him terribly and, please pardon my bluntness, but I really don't need to hear about the various ways you've found to snog yours."

Ginny made the quite precipitous and painful fall from aggrieved indignation to justly chastened. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, putting her face in her hands as she realized how hurtful she'd been. She really was sorry. Her tears obscured her vision for a bit before her first attempt at wiping them away. Seeing her former imaginary rival, she quickly made her way to the outstretched arms of her forgiving friend. "I should have known better. I don't know what I was thinking."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," said Luna. Ginny looked at Luna; confusion filling her face.

"Okay," she said, sniffing back her tears, again. "I guess I don't know what _you're_ thinking, either."

"I'm thinking about Neville," explained Luna. "And about you. Do you really know what you want from him?"

"I want him to love me," said Ginny, emotionally.

"Really?" asked Luna. Ginny could almost sense that some brutal honesty was heading her way. "Well, I have to admit, that surprises me." She gestured for Ginny to have a seat on her bed before turning back to the dressing room chair she had occupied earlier.

Ginny sat on her bed. She was still a bit shaken from her earlier emotions so she was able to keep her Weasley temper under control.

"Your problem with Neville," began Luna, who then paused. "Perhaps I should say Neville's problem with you is that he's not Harry."

"Oh, _that_," replied Ginny. She stood up and paced slowly around the room.

"It would seem that you've already discussed this," offered Luna, trying to move the conversation along.

Ginny took two more steps before replying, "Yes, I did. Early last month, Hermione and I were talking about it. You mightn't have known, but Neville and I almost broke up then."

"I knew," said Luna.

"I suppose you would have," continued Ginny. "Anyway, we figured that I intimidated him. That I was too forceful when expressing myself."

"So you backed off," said Luna. "For a while, that is. I believe Neville even made a comment about how he got to be in charge. If I remember correctly, you shot that idea down in short order."

"You know you remember correctly," said Ginny, knowingly. "We decided to be more of a partnership. We'd share the decisions that effected the both of us. I think we're doing fairly well on that, all things considered."

"You were," said Luna. "For a while, you two didn't seem to have any major control issues. However, you're starting to become like your old self, again. Once again, you're starting to treat Neville like you would Harry. Perhaps, in your heart, you're still upset that Harry chose Hermione over you."

Ginny glared at Luna. "Of course I'm upset," she hissed. "I'm upset because I loved Harry." Then, in a more normal voice, she continued, "I really did. I loved him so much that I set him free. _Of course _he chose Hermione over me. Why wouldn't he? She's the only one who's an equal to him."

"Exactly," agreed Luna. "They're both free to argue their opinions since the other is capable of pushing back, just as hard."

"I know," said Ginny. "Neville and I've talked about how he shouldn't be afraid to put me back on my heals if he feels he's right. I won't take it personally."

"And yet you did," said Luna. Ginny looked up, confused, but didn't say anything so Luna continued. "When you found Neville and me joking and laughing, you jumped to a rather unflattering conclusion and stormed off. You expected Neville to come running after to apologize."

"I suppose I did," said Ginny. "I don't see where I was wrong to expect that, either." She was getting back to her normal self.

"Neville had nothing to apologize for," said Luna. "I'm afraid our conversation had gone into a rather embarrassing direction that I'm sure you wouldn't have appreciated but it wasn't about you or the two of us. He decided to push back passively by letting you storm off, uncontested. On reflection, I can't say I blame him. You really had no reason to be jealous. You can trust Neville not to sneak around behind your back. It probably hurt his feelings to find out that you didn't."

"I see," said Ginny. "Well, how long will he let me stew in my own juice before he says anything?" She looked to Luna for an answer.

"I had expected the two of you to at least speak to each other during supper," replied Luna. "That's why I stayed away, tonight."

Ginny paused, an unreadable expression on her face. Finally, she admitted, "That plan didn't work out. I didn't go to supper, either. I didn't want to see the two of you, together."

"Oh," said Luna. "I suppose having both of us not show up confused poor Neville. Maybe it would be best if you took a moment and went to see him. This whole thing really is just a mix up. Both he and I already know the truth. Now that you do, too, perhaps just a quick word is all that would be required to get everything on track."

"Except that I don't know the truth," replied Ginny. "You say it doesn't have anything to do with any of us? Why on earth didn't either of you just tell me when I asked, then?"

"Because it might have hurt your feelings," said Luna. "At this point, though, I'm sure that curiosity would kill you. Basically, Neville was just being a male between the ages of fourteen and ninety-five. He had expressed disappointment that we couldn't see the Buttercross Belles dance troupe. I believe you were present when Hermione discussed Harry's reaction to them?"

"I was," replied Ginny, a bit colder than normal. "I don't see how she let him get away with that, personally."

"How she _let_ a teenage boy get away with enjoying beautiful girls dancing in front of him?" asked Luna, laughing. "Try to stop him. She was irritated, of course, but finally realized that they weren't a threat to her. She even mentioned teaching us some of the dances, for the exercise. I told Neville about that and we were discussing how he would really enjoy watching Susan Bones and Daphne Greengrass when you came up."

Ginny had to pause for a picture of the two buxom students to come into focus. She was mad for just a moment before realizing that Neville and Luna were probably right in not coming clean when she had first confronted them. She might still be mad, but not as much as if she could unload on Neville immediately. "I see," she said, again. She sighed. "Well, I suppose I already knew that Harry wouldn't turn away from that sort of a show. Neither would Ron; or any of my brothers; or any other boy I know. I guess I just thought Neville was _different_."

"If he was _that_ different," said Luna, "he probably wouldn't be dating girls." They both laughed.

"I guess I'll talk to him, then," said Ginny. "Do you know where he is?"

"Probably in his dorm room," replied Luna. She stood up to leave, herself.

"Girls aren't allowed up there," said Ginny.

"That never stopped you before," said Luna with a wink. She headed out of the room and down the stairs.

Ginny shrugged to herself before following.


	103. Chapter 103

Chapter 103 - Greyback's Secrets

November 19th, 1997

Greyback lay on his bed, sleeping. Martha sat nearby. She was reading one of the multitude of scrolls chronicling his life, insofar as it had intersected with Voldemort's. They were stored close to his cell so that he'd be at hand should any questions arise. A question _had_ come up, but she could see he wasn't yet awake so she didn't bother him. Jotting down a note for later, she continued on.

Unknown to her, Greyback would have been very grateful had she chosen to rouse him. He was having_ The Dream._ For years, it had haunted his every moment; sleeping or not. Over time, he had forced it out of his conscious thoughts to maintain his sanity. The horror in it, though, remained evergreen in his nightmares. Eventually, after decades had passed, it only came occasionally. He had suspected that it might return last night, though, after an unfortunate happenstance had allowed him to view _her song _while leafing through the music that Hermione had bought him. Damn. He'd have rather never played again that to see that. He knew what it would mean and had tried to just stay awake. That's only an option in the short run, though, so he eventually fell asleep. Now, hours later, his body remained motionless but a cold sweat began to seep into his sheets. His eyes, though closed, darted about like a terrier at a tennis match. He began to mumble a bit as his mind fought to awaken. He didn't want to get too far along.

Martha, of course, could hear nothing. She did notice, though, when he began to stir. Getting up, she walked over and removed the silencing charm so that she'd be able to ask her question when Greyback had fully roused himself. He was rocking a bit so she thought it wouldn't be long. It looked to her like he might be having some sort of a nightmare. That didn't concern her, of course. Everybody had them. She still found herself in the basement of Riddle Manor on a regular basis. They were just dreams, though, and she felt better upon awakening, knowing she was safe.

After just a few more seconds, Greyback sat straight up and gasped out, "Sister!" before opening his eyes and taking a few quick breaths. He then closed his eyes, again, to calm himself. Reopening them, he saw Martha. Not knowing what she had seen or heard, he went back into his act.

"Good morning," he said, gruffly. "Let me guess; more questions." Behind Martha, the small piles of scrolls sat upon the table next to his library while the one in question was clutched in her hand.

"Of course," said Martha. "It's your own fault that I have to bother you so often. If you'd only gone into a bit more detail..." They both laughed. Greyback's obsession with minutia when describing his encounters with Tom Riddle was the stuff of both legend and wisecracks. Whenever his closest rival, Hermione, became too loquacious about a subject, Harry had taken to calling her Fenrir to calm her down.

"I'll try to do better," replied Greyback, pulling off the covers and coming over to the glass wall. Martha held up the scroll so that he could see. It helped him to remember the scroll better than having it just described. Reading the title, he said, "Oh, _that _one. I expected someone to ask about it, sooner or later. Confused me at the time, as well." With that, he and Martha went over the details, trying to bring a bit more clarity to that particular incident.

* * *

Later that morning

Harry, Hermione and Ron all worked their way along the otherwise deserted fifth floor observation corridor on their way to Charms. This wasn't their normal route to that class but Honey had a free hour and wished to spend it lying down on her bed. The three teens had walked her to her rooms before heading off to class. As they walked, they spoke of the limitations they had discovered with the Death Eater detectors.

"I'm not really sure what we can do about it," said Hermione. "Even the elves weren't able to overcome the Fidelius Charm on that unplottable house that Minerva was taken to."

"I think," said Ron, "that we might have to just keep trying them all until we lock onto a Death Eater and track him until he returns to one of their hideouts. At least we'd be up to date on their places of interest."

"Maybe," said Harry. "It just seems so random. There are hundreds of them on the loose. As far as we can tell, only a few are out and about at any time. None of the bigger names ever go out."

"That's more to do with the time it takes to cycle through the names," said Hermione, "than them all being homebodies. There're just over three-hundred and fifty of them, right now. That takes about forty-five minutes to do one run. We need to..." She stopped and looked back at Harry, who had also stopped, but a few feet behind.

"What's up?" asked Ron, circling back.

Harry backed up from closely examining the painting that had grabbed his interest to point at one of the characters. "Is that Grampa?" he asked, curiously.

The other two gathered around the Gauguin to inspect it more closely. It was a Tahitian beach scene, of course, with a few topless natives frolicking in the surf. The rustic postimpressionism of the painting was somewhat blunted by the highly detailed and refined shape of a man in robes with a long white beard leaning against a palm tree while using his tilted hat to shade his eyes from the warm glow of morning sun. With his girlfriend, Endora, lying next to him, stroking his beard, it was obvious, even without a definitive face shot, that it was, indeed, none other than their former headmaster.

Hermione gaped at the painting for a moment before looking out a nearby window at the bleak, mid-November Scottish countryside. Turning back, she declared, "I'm jealous. We're a week away from freezing to death while Grampa's got his own private beach in the South Pacific."

"I'm jealous, too," said Ron. He was also examining the composition of the painting but didn't have to compare it to anything in Scotland to find something he liked.

Hermione noticed his expression and refocused her attention to the painting for a moment before figuring it out. "Oh, really," she chided. "You're married to Honey and your head is turned by _these_ girls? They're barely more than outlines."

"With women," said a distant, but audible voice from the painting, "the outlines are the best part." Dumbledore had pushed back his hat but hadn't otherwise changed his obviously comfortable position.

"Aren't you worried that Endora will get jealous?" asked Harry. He had noticed that the seventeenth century lass had glanced disapprovingly at the water nymphs before returning her attention to the aged Headmaster.

"Not at all," replied Grampa. "I've always found that competition brings better service."

"Vergeet niet wie uw favoriet is, minnaar," said Endora, with her sultriest voice.

"Je weet dat jij dat bent, mijn lief," replied Grampa, tickling her under her chin. "Wes nu een goed meisje en vul nog eens een glas wijn." Endora laughed and sprang up to obey.

"You," said Hermione, giving her best disapproving scowl at the milkmaid, "have just moved to the category of 'bad influence' in my book."

"That's nice," acknowledged Grampa, tipping his hat back over his eyes. "Now if you don't mind, this lovely young lady and I'd like a little privacy." He put his arm out and Endora, bringing back the requested beverage, gleefully snugged up next to him, but not before sticking her tongue out at Hermione.

"That is just so... wrong," huffed Hermione, as she walked off. "Giving into his whims and throwing herself at him like that. Doesn't she have any self-respect?"

"Things were probably different a few hundred years ago," countered Ron. He floated along for a few feet before posing a question. "I'd like to know, though, as a modern woman, just what you _wouldn't_ do for Harry if he asked." Both he and Harry glanced at Hermione as they proceeded on their way, but the only response was a silent blush.

* * *

In the atrium of the secure flats.

Ellie Caro had spent the past few days understandably upset. She had done little but cry and sleep while her mother offered little comfort. Parry had sat silently by the window, looking outside, with only the occasional meal to tempt her away from her thoughts. There is something about being alone, together, that builds up pressure. By the start of the fourth day, the seals on the door gave way and they were blown out of their flat. What they found outside was a community in microcosm.

Those who had arrived a month ago had come from the isolation of 'protective custody' and found the relative freedom and autonomy of the sheltered group of flats at Hogwarts to be as inviting as a small village. They were all in the same situation, more or less, but could choose to mingle, or not, depending on their mood at the time. They could also speak freely about their feelings on their circumstances since there was no need for secrecy. This allowed those who had spent months unable to express themselves to have meaningful conversations with those who not only could empathize, but also might have a few ideas on moving on.

By fate or coincidence, the two atypical residents had found each other straightaway. Cathy had been sitting quietly with Tracy at one of the many picnic-style tables scattered throughout the pseudo-courtyard. The overcast sky and chill wind had driven most of the occupants to this indoor retreat. McGonagall's foresight had provided an indoor play area that was sufficient for the needs of the smaller children so Seth and Jerome had given Cathy a respite from their hyperactivity. Parry and Ellie had sat down by Cathy due to this illusion of calm that currently surrounded her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Caro," greeted Cathy, recognizing Parry from the family photo published in the Sunday Daily Prophet.

"Good morning," said Parry, taking a longer look at Cathy. She had met a lot of auror wives over the years, but Cathy was unfamiliar to her. After a few seconds, she had to smile and admit, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't remember your name.

"That's understandable," said Cathy, bouncing Tracy in her arms. "I don't believe we've ever met. I recognized you from the photo in the paper. I'm Cathy Diben, by the way." She tried to extend her hand in greeting, but having her daughter on her lap, she decided against the attempt.

"Pleased," said Parry, also not making an awkward attempt at a physical greeting. "This is my daughter, Elenore. Ellie, for short."

"Good morning," said Cathy, to Ellie. The young girl snuggled further into her mother's robes. Attempting to break the ice, Cathy said, "This is _my_ daughter, Tracy. She's my youngest." After a moment, she added, "I suppose that was obvious. My boys are over on the jungle gym." She indicated the two boys climbing through the maze of pipes on the opposite wall. "The oldest is Seth; he's six, and the other one is Jerome, who's four."

"Is Seth the one hanging from the top bar or the one prying his fingers loose?" asked Parry, peering closer. "Oh, my," said Cathy. "Not again. If you'll pardon me for a ..."

Ping! The all-too-familiar ring of a Diben boy's head coming into contact with cold steel rang through the air. Cathy attempted to rise but Tracy had been gaining weight fairly quickly. "Do you mind?" she asked, offering her daughter to Ellie. As the child was on the way, Ellie instinctively reached out and took her.

Thank you, dear," said Cathy, walking towards her sons. "I don't see any blood this time, so I should be right back." She walked over, unconcerned. Her sons would have been in the hospital long ago if their skulls weren't harder than ordinary pipes.

"Ah, mum?" asked Ellie, holding Tracy out from her body. "I think we have a situation, here." Indeed. Tracy had, once again, defied the laws of physics and produced more than she consumed. How she managed to continually do so would, no doubt, become the basis for many learned and scholarly papers.

"Hand her here, Ellie," said Parry, taking the girl from the extended arms of her disgusted daughter. She set the child on the table while looking about for the bag of clean diapers that every mother of a young baby kept near. Taking out a fresh one, she pulled out her wand before undoing the soiled rag. With the hesitant competence of one who had much experience, but from a long time ago, she cast a Scourgefy charm to remove the bulk of the mess from both Tracy and her diaper before using a few other motherly spells to properly clean, disinfect and powder the freshly satisfied imp's bum. A quick flick of the wrist set the new diaper in place.

"Wow," exclaimed Ellie. "You'll have to teach me those spells, someday." She seemed to be quite impressed.

Parry, realizing at last that her daughter had spoken her first normal words in days, decided to not spoil the moment and said, "I'm sure I will, when you have children of your own." She smiled at her daughter who smiled back while leaning into her mother.

A few moments later, Cathy returned with her youngest son. "Step over here, Jerome," she commanded, reaching into her bag. After a bit of clanking of bottles, she selected one and pulled it out. Emblazoned on the label was the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes logo along with the descriptive name 'Bruise Removal Paste'. She pulled her son over and applied a generous amount to the side of his head. The bruise hadn't yet had time to mature, but the area was well-enough defined.

"That's something else I need to add to the list," said Cathy, putting away the jar. "Now sit down for a few minutes and let that heal up." Grudgingly, Jerome obeyed.

"I attended to some of Terry's business," said Parry, indicating the cleaner, but not quite sterile diaper setting on the floor next to the supply bag.

"Terry?" asked Cathy before catching up. "Oh, thank you. She does go through a lot of them. Her name is Tracy, by the way." She reached over to retrieve her daughter before sitting back down.

"I'm sorry," said Parry. "Tracy. I'll remember, next time."

"Don't feel bad," said Cathy. "When we first got here, we mixed up everybody's names."

"How long ago was that?" asked Parry.

"Two weeks," said Cathy. "Joe brought me and the children here just after that mess at Diagon Alley."

"Joe?" asked Parry.

"He was my husband," explained Cathy, sadly. "He died just after we arrived."

"How..." began Parry before catching herself. "I'm sorry. It must still be very painful for you."

"It's terrible," agreed Cathy. "With three children, I can't just let myself fall apart, of course." She seemed to realize two of her children plus one of Parry's was nearby. Examining Jerome's head, she said, "You're fine, now. Go back with your brother and _be careful_." Jerome was off like a shot.

In more of a whisper, she added, "Ellie, dear. Would you mind keeping an eye on them for a bit? That's the third injury this morning and I'm almost out of the cream."

Ellie wasn't particularly keen on watching the two rambunctious boys, but there were some other girls near her age in that general area so she took the opportunity. Of course, the fact that some boys that were also near her age were also nearby also factored a bit into her decision.

Parry watched for a moment as Ellie returned a bit to her normally confident and outgoing persona while introducing herself to the other children.

"The children here are very supportive of each other," offered Cathy, noticing how Parry was still watching as her daughter mingled. "Since their situations are all so similar, no explanations are necessary as to why they're here. It makes it much easier for them to get to know each other."

"I certainly hope so," said Parry. "She hasn't said hardly anything since we arrived."

"She seems to be getting over that," said Cathy, smiling. Ellie was conversing with three other girls. Somehow, they were all talking at top speed while apparently maintaining the ability to process and understand what the other girls were saying.

"She's a survivor," said Parry. "Given time, she'll get back to normal." Her look didn't completely agree with her words but there was nothing wrong with wishful thinking.

"I hope so," said Cathy. "Of course, nothing's certain. Joe though we'd all be safe once we got here. He was taken away within a minute or so. I never saw him again." She broke down during the last sentence.

"I'm so sorry," said Parry, as confused as ever. She waited for Cathy to compose herself before asking, "I'm sorry for having to ask, but I'm afraid I don't understand. Ellie and I were brought here to keep us safe, but only after I ... after Mort... died. This is supposed to be protective custody for the widows and children of aurors and other people that are in danger from You-Know-Who. If you made it here safely, how was it your husband ...? I'm mean... well..."

"I'm afraid I still don't know exactly what happened," admitted Cathy. "Some elves came while we were outside the gate and took Joe away. I had to shout for ten minutes to wake up Hagrid to get any help. When we were finally let into Hogwarts, they told me that they took Joe to the North Pole."

"The North Pole?" asked Parry, incredulously. "What on Earth for?" The oddness of the conversation was overriding the awkwardness.

"They never said," said Cathy. "It sounded like he'd only be there for awhile and then he'd be brought to a prison cell near here."

"A prison cell? Why couldn't he have stayed with you and his children?" asked Parry.

"I guess because he worked for You-Know-Who," guessed Cathy.

"Your husband was a..." gushed Parry before she could stop herself.

"A Death Eater," finished Cathy. "Yes, that does seem to shock people." She rocked Tracy gently for a bit to help her fade off into sleep. In a quieter voice, she continued, "Harry said he'd be treated like any other Death Eater, but our children would need to get outside, once in a while. That's the 'they' I was talking about. Harry Potter and his wife. McGonagall was with them, too. We spent one night in a strange flat with no outside door, but a beautiful view. The next day, they... well, they told me that Joe had... had..." She paused, trying to collect herself. "Anyway, it wasn't long after that that we moved here."

"They didn't tell you how your husband died?" asked Parry. She thought that this might finally be something to satisfy her new owners when she was asked for some news.

"Well, they did," said Cathy, hesitantly. "It just didn't make sense. They said that Joe was showing them something that You-Know-Who had given him. Marbles, I think. Somehow, these marbles killed Joe. I never did understand how." She looked as bewildered as she actually was.

Parry didn't have a clue, either, but noticed that Cathy was getting depressed. Not wanting this fountain of information to dry up, she said, "I think that conversation was depressing enough. Why don't we have a look around this place. You can show me the best spots."

Cathy perked up at the change of subject and agreed immediately. Still holding Tracy, she left everything else by her chair. "The nice thing about living with a bunch of auror families," she said, "is you don't have to worry about anything going missing." They stopped by their older children and, not finding any takers among them for a walk, headed on out the door to brave the cold November weather.

* * *

At Gunderson's Machining and Small Engine Repair

'Karl' stood in the corner; his small hands doing his best to cover his large ears. The gear cutter was making the first of what would probably be a series of replacement parts for the old mill. After two hours of examination, Vernon Dursley had discovered the probable cause of the unexplained noise. A bearing had seized up and frozen into place. After that, a shear pin had done its duty and sheared off. If a professional had been brought in immediately, the cost for repair would have been three hours labor plus about fifty pounds in parts. Now, by continuing to use the parts of the mill that still worked until finally _nothing _worked, he had perhaps several long days ahead of him with no guarantee of success. Fortunately, there was a fine assortment of unrepairable pieces of equipment out back that had useable parts. This particular gear was a bit wide and the taper was off a smidge, as Vernon put it, but he had enough working equipment to make the adjustments. The bearing itself, although the initial cause of the trouble, was the easiest to fix. Fully five intact and fairly rust-free specimens with the proper bore were setting on the multitude of shelves surrounding the work area.

When the machine had removed the desired surplus steel from the used gear, Vernon took it to the broken mill to check it's fit. After putting a dollop of grease in the hole and lining up the key, he lowered himself onto his knees and slid the gear onto the target shaft without a problem until... there was a problem.

"Now what?" asked a frustrated Vernon. He had slid the part to within a half inch of its destination when it just stopped moving. Trying to pull it back off to file the keyway, he found that _that _direction was also removed from his available options. "Blast!" He looked around until he located the proper tool for the job.

"Karl," he called.

"Yes, Vernon," replied Kreacher. "What can Karl be doing for Vernon?"

"Hand me that swing press," he ordered, pointing at a ten pound sledge leaning against an empty barrel that once contained coolant. The elf pointed his finger at the sledge and levitated it over.

"Thanks," said Vernon, no longer encumbered by his long-held biases against magic. Kreacher had suggested at the outset of the project that magic might be more efficient in the repair of the mill, itself. Vernon had politely declined, stating that magic wasn't calibrated to a thousandth of an inch. Now, of course, he was hypocritically using a highly calibrated sledge hammer. With a _ping!_, the gear slid into place.

"_I saw that_," said George Parkins, leaning against the doorway with a _J'accuse_ tone in his voice.

Vernon and Kreacher looked at each other with nervous eyes. Had George seen Kreacher's transport of the sledgehammer? "Well, um," began Vernon, flustering a bit, "I can explain..." He couldn't, actually.

"Oh, I'm just kidding," laughed George, coming into the shed with his usual gangly walk. "I've done that more than once, myself." He hopped up on the nearest sawhorse and pulled a Slim Jim out of his shirt pocket. "Want one, Karl?" he asked, holding out the filthy bag to the perceived image of 'Karl'.

"Karl isn't being needing George's stick of meat," said Kreacher, backing away.

"You're not from around here, are you?" asked George. He took a bite of his treat while waiting for an answer.

"I'd like one," offered Vernon, to change the subject. He began to open the wrapper as he said, "I think I've got her worried." He indicated the mill, using the time honored tradition of men to refer to anything that consumes a great deal of time, effort and/or money with only a slight chance of any reward as 'her'.

"That can be either good _or_ bad," reflected George. "I hope you mean you're figuring her out."

"More or less," said Vernon, chewing. "The original problem's pretty much fixed. Now, I'm just taking care of the things that broke because of it." He popped the last of his 'stick of meat' between his teeth. He had forgotten just how good they were.

"That's grand," said George, getting back to his feet. He walked up somewhat hesitantly and said, "Say, Vern. There's a bloke out front that's got a twisted shaft or somethin' from an'old thatch chopper. Must've been custom made in the first place. Least it looks like it. Runs pretty fast, though, so just straightenin' it won't do no good. Just twist up again in a heartbeat. Anyway, he's an old customer from way back but not too flush with any large amount of money. Do'er think you could take a look at it and see if'n you could maybe find something lyin' around that would work for him?"

Vernon hadn't fallen off the turnip truck that morning. He knew that once they bent the rules on their agreement; that Vernon would fix the mill in exchange for the use of the shop for a special project, that many other such jobs would be sent his way. He was thinking of the best way to decline when he caught sight of a wizened face surrounded by white hair, peeking around the door. The bearded old man looked quite ancient with just a touch of desperation in his eye. Vernon suspected that the four foot long piece of green and rust colored shaft he held was his ticket to regular meals. With a sigh, he said, "I might be able to figure something out."

* * *

Later that night, in the office of the Fortress of Solitude.

"I remember this one," said Ron. He handed the scroll over to Harry. "It's a bit odd, I'll admit, not to mention especially brutal, but I don't see where it's all that useful."

"It's hard to say if it's useful or not," stated Hermione. "All of the actions by Voldemort were done outside of the view of Greyback." She leaned back into her chair before commenting, "It also seemed unsuccessful."

"Yes," agreed Harry, "and random. He didn't ask for anyone or any type of person; until the end, that is. Just whoever was nearby."

"That's why I wanted you to give it another look," said Martha. "You said that you were interested in something that involved murders and these seemed to be unusual."

"They are that," agreed Hermione. She paused a second. She didn't like her upcoming suggestion. "I suppose we should acquire the memory and have a look ourselves."

"Won't that be a fun time," quipped Ron. "Witnessing four murders." He shuddered despite his cavalier attitude.

"I tend to doubt that," said Harry. He stood up. "Well, let's go see Mr. Greyback."

"Mind if I watch?" asked Martha. "I'm interested in how Fenrir will react to your request."

"Sure," said Harry, confused a bit. Shaking it off, he waited for Hermione to grab a vial from their cabinet and the four of them plus two elf guards headed down the corridor.

When they arrived, they found the odd sight of Greyback sitting in a chair with his trumpet beside him on its stand. He had a quill between his lips and he was reading something while tapping his right foot. Hermione removed the silencing charm and Scott Joplin's 'Maple Leaf Rag' filled the hallway. A closer inspection revealed that the former werewolf was reading the sheet music for that very song. That explained everything. Well, almost everything.

"Good evening, Fenrir," said Harry. "What's with the quill?" Greyback jerked around at the unexpected sound, dropping the aforementioned quill in his surprise.

Calming down quickly, he replied, "Evening, Harry." He then reached into his pocket to pull out his wand and stop the record from playing. Picking up the quill, he held it up and said, "This is a substitute, although a poor one, for a pencil." He then deftly put it back between his lips.

"I suppose that's true," agreed Harry. He held up the parchment in question. "We'd like to come in and talk about this, if you don't mind."

Greyback removed the quill and set it on the table. "Of course," he replied, "but it'll cost you."

The four visitors used their rings to enter Greyback's cell. Seeing how cramped this made things, Harry pulled his wand and added about six more feet to the width. He then summoned chairs for his party.

"Thanks," said Greyback, admiring his newly enlarged digs. "But that's not what I want."

"And what is the price for your cooperation?" asked Hermione. "I would've thought the trumpet was enough."

"I love the trumpet," admitted Greyback, "but what I need is a pencil. Half a pencil, to be correct."

"_Half _of a pencil," repeated Martha. She seemed more amused than confused. Of course, she'd had more experience just chatting with the surprisingly erudite trumpeter than the others. He could spin a good yarn when the mood struck him. She could sense another one might be on the way.

"Yes," said Greyback. "A whole one is too heavy."

"Maybe you should hit the gym more," suggested Ron.

"Believe me," said Greyback, "That pencil'd weigh more than you think by the time you finished the exercise I plan on doing."

"I give up," said Hermione. "What are you going to do with the pencil?"

"If you'd give me one," said a falsely patient Greyback, "I'd _show_ you."

"I'll get one from the office," offered Martha.

Before she could finish rising, Blinky said, "Hugger is being bringing a pencil, Miss Martha." The elves used them on the maps since they made finer lines than the quills.

"Oh," said Martha, repositioning herself in her chair. "That's easier, yet."

Within ten seconds, they could all hear the light footfalls of an elf running down the hall. Apparition, even of the elvish kind, was suspended due to the goblin wards. With Blinky receiving, Hugger pushed the pencil through an air hole. Greyback took it from the hands of the elf and immediately broke it cleanly in two.

"What you do," he explained while cleaning off the loose splinters, "is hold it between your lips, but not your teeth." He placed the pencil as described and then continued with "An en oo old ih." Giving up, he pulled the pencil out and said, "And then you hold it up at a slight angle while keeping your chin down in playing position. This helps build up strength in your embouchure. You only do it for a few seconds at a time to start, and only a couple of times a day. Eventually, after several months, you work up to a minute or so." He then put the pencil back to demonstrate.

"I see," said Hermione, underwhelmed by the revelation of the _mystery of the pencil_. "If we..."

"That's supposed to be hard?" asked Ron. He glanced at Harry who seemed equally skeptical.

"It _is_ hard," replied Greyback. "Believe me, when Father Flanagan showed me how..."

"Father Flanagan?" asked Hermione, pulled back into the subject by the familiar name.

"Not the famous one," said Greyback. "He might have been his son, I guess." He looked around to see if anyone got the joke. Hermione and Martha both remained stony faced but Harry and Ron merely nodded at the possibility. "Anyway, Father was my music teacher and he showed me the way to use the pencil the right way."

"Fine," said Hermione, attempting, once again, to get things back on track. "About this story. It seems that you're as confused as we are about what was going on." She handed him the parchment.

Greyback saw that it was the one that he and Martha had looked at earlier in the day and set it on his bed. "That's right," he said. "Tom didn't explain any of it and I didn't feel like asking."

"We understand," said Harry. "What we'd like, though, is your memory of the whole episode. Maybe we'll see something useful that you didn't notice or think was important. Do you think you could do that for us?"

"I suppose," said Greyback, leaning back. "Did you bring a bottle or something?"

"Here," said Hermione, handing over the vial.

Greyback pulled his wand. Looking at the attenuator, he said, "One of you'll probably need to take this thing off. I can't get much out of it, this way." Harry was already reaching for the wand so Greyback handed it to him. With a quick spell, along with a tap from his own wand, the attenuator slid off the tip.

"Here you go," said Harry, handing it back. Immediately, Ron and Hermione pulled their wands and gave Harry very displeased looks.

"There's no need for that," said Harry, calmly. Turning to look at Greyback, he said, "I trust you, Fenrir."

Greyback was thrown back forty years in an instant. His wand clattered onto the floor and his pupils contracted nearly to the point of blindness. _I trust you, Fenrir_. How that phrase had haunted him. He sat on his bed, shaking, as he regained control of the present.

"Are you alright?" asked Martha, coming over to sit next to him and put her hand on his forehead. He was experiencing a sudden case of cold sweats.

Taking two, long, deep breaths, he shook his head clear and said, "I'm fine. Just give me a moment." He continued to recover for a few more seconds before looking for his wand. Picking it up, he asked, "You want it from the beginning, right?"

* * *

Much later that night

Tink. Tink. Tink. The small hammer rapped on the spline of the rusted rack and pinion until it finally began to move as Vernon turned the knee wheel. Apparently, the Z-axis wasn't used all that often by Old Man Lansing. With the errant parts finally convinced of who was in charge, Vernon tossed the hammer the short distance to the top of the workbench. It had a bit too much force, though, and rebounded back and just managed to slip to the floor. It hit with a Pop! Vernon was surprised at this sound and looked down to investigate what might have been broken when he heard "Vernon Dursley!" from behind him.

"Ahhh," he replied. "Oh, Petunia. You scared ten years out of me." He pulled his handkerchief to wipe his face.

"When are you coming home?" asked Petunia. She didn't sound curious so much as suggestive. The suggestion was clear that the correct answer was 'Right away, dear'. Winky stood holding Petunia's hand with an equally disapproving look for Kreacher.

"Uh, in a minute or two," said Vernon. "I've just now freed this bloody wheel up and want to put some lubricating oil on it for overnight." He looked around for the squeeze bottle.

"You have five minutes," said Petunia. Turning to Kreacher, she said, "Karl. Bring him home in five minutes or no butterbeer after supper."

"Yes, Mistress Petunia," replied Kreacher.

"I think I'll have it working by the end of tomorrow," said Vernon, indicating the mill with obvious pride.

Petunia softened a bit as she noticed this. "I'm sure it'll work like new. You haven't run into anything too broken, then?"

"Nothing I couldn't fix, replace or rebuild," said Vernon. "I'll take care of the linkages next and then finish up by the afternoon."

"That's good," said Petunia. "I'll start warming up supper. See you in a bit." With that, she took Winky's hand, again, and the two of them popped off.

Vernon coated the rack and pinion generously and began to wipe his hands. "You know," he said to Kreacher, "if I took off that plate, I could set the guide rails to soaking, too." He reached for his allen wrenches.

"No butterbeer tonight," muttered 'Karl'.

Author's Note: Any brass players out there might want to wait to try the pencil trick until their instructor can offer more precise guidance. It really helps build up strengh but can be overdone very easily.

Dad


	104. Chapter 104

Chapter 104 - The Four Murders

Somewhere... Sometime...

"I don't think they use this place, anymore," said Harry, looking out the bottom of the dusty and otherwise covered window. The time was about a month after Voldemort's resurrection. The view showed more adjacent houses and businesses than they had come to expect from their other trips into Death Eater memories. This was apparently a formerly vacant house on the wrong side of the tracks in a moderately sized city. By anyone's guess, it would soon become vacant, again.

"Probably not," agreed Hermione. They had delayed watching this memory last night after determining that it could take over an hour to complete and Harry had a werewolf to cure. Now, with Harry having already dealt with his morning werewolf and having also finished his nap, they had until Transfiguration at eleven o'clock, if necessary. Of course, if it went past ten, Hermione would also have to miss Arithmancy, but she would make the sacrifice. Since she was currently working on the next term's assignments, it wouldn't have too much impact, anyway.

With the full script on the scroll that had started it all, they thought that they wouldn't be too troubled by the actual memory. All they were looking for were some subtle clues to anything that Greyback might have missed; perhaps a missing piece to the larger puzzle they were assembling. As it turned out, they were about to find the corner pieces.

"So," pondered Ron, "when is this going to get started?" He had a point. Voldemort had entered the room shortly after they had arrived, accompanied by Lucius Malfoy, but they hadn't done much but stand in the corner. Two unknown Death Eaters stood to either side of the door; obviously personal bodyguards. Greyback had already been in the room, but that goes without saying since they were experiencing his memory.

"What are they doing?" asked Hermione, peering closer at the faces of Voldemort and his lieutenant. They were silent, but the intensity was very noticeable.

Harry and Ron also had a look. After a few seconds, Harry said, "I think they are communicating with..."

"Very well, my Lord," forced out Malfoy, suddenly and with a severe shortness of breath. He and Voldemort immediately split apart.

"Legilimancy," finished Harry. They watched as Malfoy walked to the door and, to their apparent surprise and confusion, indicated the guards should precede him through. They looked to Voldemort for some sort of confirmation. Guarding him was, after all, their primary responsibility.

Voldemort wanted privacy, though, and he reaffirmed the order with a nod. Malfoy and the guards left.

"I gather we aren't just running to the store for milk and biscuits, then?" quipped Greyback. He had that smirk on his face that most people would have loved to wipe off; if they could, that is.

"No," replied Voldemort, humorlessly. Greyback enjoyed acting a little too familiar around him, but as he restrained himself when others were present, he merely considered it the price he had to pay for a very capable villain. "We are going... out. That's all you need to know." He stood still, silently waiting.

After a few seconds, Greyback got the hint and stood as well. "How we getting there, Tom?" he asked. He grinned, again, knowing that both the name and the expression would convey his message. He did not now, nor had he ever, feared Voldemort. He hadn't feared _anyone_ for decades.

"Portkey," said Voldemort. He produced a shoelace.

"I hope that isn't one of yours," commented Greyback. "Last time I portkeyed anywhere, I was nearly pulled out of my shorts. I don't want to spend half the night looking for your bloody shoe."

Voldemort didn't respond but simply continued to hold out the shoelace. Greyback took the other end of the shoelace and said, "Oh, you're no fun, anymore."

* * *

Voldemort and Greyback, along with their observers, appeared in front of a lonely and abandoned house beyond a row of shut down and dormant factories. No one lived anywhere near the place and the only people who came by were lost.

"Bring me someone," ordered Voldemort. "I want them alive." He proceeded up the steps to the porch.

"Any particular type of..." began Greyback, but Voldemort cut him off.

"_Anyone_," said Voldemort. With that, he entered the house and shut the door.

"Anyone," repeated Greyback. He looked around with his werewolf eyes. He listened with his werewolf ears. He even sniffed the air. He regretted that. Apparently, one of the factories used to render down pigs. Not really sure where he was, and unwilling to chance a blind apparition, he focused on a distant factory chimney and popped to the top.

"Bloody hell," shrieked Hermione, clutching Harry with a grip guaranteed to leave marks, if not puncture wounds. They were around one-hundred feet above the factory roof.

"One-hundred feet my arse," exclaimed Hermione. "It's a thousand if it's a yard."

"What?" asked Harry, looking around to see what the basis of Hermione's latest hallucination might be.

"Oh," said Hermione, brilliantly. "I was just commenting on how high we are. It's about a thousand feet, right."

"More like a thousand inches," said Ron, accurately, after glancing over the edge of his carpet.

Heh, heh, heh.

Meanwhile, Greyback had methodically scanned the area with his enhanced vision and eventually found his goal. A man, alone, within a quarter mile of him. Another quick apparition and he'd be on his way back.

* * *

Kyle Addlecate leaned against the employee entrance of the abandoned plastic factory. He was deciding on whether or not to spend the night outside or in. With little chance of rain and fairly warm weather, he was leaning towards outside. Past experience had taught him that the animals that tend to move into large, abandoned buildings can get pretty territorial. The southern exposure of this particular doorway also meant that the concrete slab would retain much of its solar heat well into the early hours. Wadding up a few scraps of cardboard, he settled in to read the paper. It was a day old and he counted himself lucky to have found it. It was the last good fortune he'd ever enjoy.

As he opened the paper, there was another sound muffled by the rustle of the newspaper. A snapping or popping noise that Kyle couldn't identify. Perhaps a pane of glass had cracked. Instinctively lowering the paper to look about, he was surprised by the addition to his world of a man. He seemed dressed oddly, but who was he to judge. He, himself, was currently sporting postman's shorts, a rugby shirt and a greenish yellow bathrobe.

"Hello, stranger," said Kyle, trying to be non-confrontational as he tried to figure out how this man had gotten so close to him unnoticed.

"Hello," said Greyback, pointing his wand. "Goodnight." He cast a silent stunner and Kyle Addlecate knew no more.

"Not much for conversation, is he?" noted Ron.

They all watched as Greyback grabbed the man by the lapels of his bathrobe and, before they could think, they were back at the house.

* * *

Greyback threw Addlecate over his left shoulder and bounded up the steps. Opening the front door, he dropped the unconscious man at the feet of Voldemort. "Here you go, Tom," he said, jovially. "Someone." He then walked over and flopped down on a sturdy looking couch.

"Wait outside," ordered Voldemort. He didn't even make eye contact.

"You're welcome," replied Greyback. With a sigh, he rose and headed towards the door.

"I'm starting to think that Voldemort didn't really miss Fenrir so much when he was captured," said Harry. He and his crew followed as Greyback left the room.

They sat with Greyback, out on the porch. With a blank expression, the murderous half-man lit a cigarette and waited for his next mission. From inside, they clearly heard Voldemort cast the Enervate spell. Voldemort, no doubt, didn't know about the hearing of werewolves and Greyback hadn't offered that information.

"We might have been very lucky," said Hermione. She stood near the doorway, although since Greyback wasn't doing the same, it wouldn't help.

"Well, we won't have to watch the actual murder from out here," said Ron, trying to guess what she was getting at.

"That's also good news," said Hermione. "What I'm..." She broke off as Addlecate spoke.

"Where am I," he asked. "Who are you?"

"You are being afforded a great honor," said Voldemort. "Now sit quietly while I prepare myself."

"I'll not sit still unti..." began Addlecate.

"Silencio," intoned Voldemort. There were no more words, but a few footsteps filtered their way out before, "Petrificus Totalis."

"About time," muttered Greyback.

"Tutis Meus Animus," cast Voldemort a minute or so later.

"I was right," said Hermione. "That's the first spell of the horcrux sequence.

"He's making a horcrux now?" asked Harry.

"Avada Kedavra," cast Voldemort. A short, green glow illuminated the windows. They all knew that the unfortunate man was dead.

"Lubricus Meus Animus," was next with "Cohibeo Meus Animus," and "Signum Meus Animus," following. A pulse of power was felt by them all, but especially Harry. Even Greyback looked up in mild surprise.

No one spoke immediately. A man had just been killed. Well, he had died a few years earlier, but they had just experienced it. Finally, just as Greyback lit his second cigarette, Hermione said, "This explains why there were, or will be, four murders tonight. He knows that four of his horcruxes are either destroyed or missing. He's going to replace them all."

"That's _not_ what I wanted to hear," said Harry. He had secretly been hoping that Luna was wrong.

"I disagree," said Ron. "It takes out the uncertainty. Not knowing was much worse than confirmation.

"Shh," said Hermione, holding up her finger. Footsteps were approaching.

Voldemort opened the door. He seemed a bit worn from his recent exertion.

"Take this one away and bring another," he said, turning back into the room.

* * *

Greyback entered the room and his watchers watched as he dragged the man out to a nearby woodpile and dumped his body. With a pop, everything faded and they found themselves in a suburban bedroom community. It was nearly six o'clock, memory time, and most folks were at supper, either at home or in restaurants. Within a few minutes, though, a jogger and his dog came into view. Dr. Bob Tulage, a well-respected oncologist, had just returned home from his lab. The third stage of his test cells were in the incubator. He'd know in just a day or so how well his vaccine was going to work. If it worked as well as the less ambitious first two tests, he'd be ready to request animal trials. All in all, he was optimistic about the chances.

Greyback stayed in the shadows. Dr. Tulage ran to his doom with a properly elevated heart rate. Greyback stepped out of the bushes and incanted 'Stupify'. The doctor fell onto the sidewalk, opening a gash on his forehead. That wouldn't matter, thought Greyback as he killed the enraged dog. With a quick Evanesco, he cleared away the carcass and blood and apparated away with the unfortunate man.

There was a strange mixture of dread and anticipation in the minds of the three teens. On the one hand, they were virtually witnessing an important event in the fight against Voldemort. Knowing of the existence of four more horcruxes was vital to eventually knowing when they were all destroyed. Then again, another man was about to be killed and they were helpless to prevent it.

Everything went more or less as before. They waited on the porch with Greyback, who noticed that he was running low on cigarettes. This time, Voldemort cast the silencing and petrification spells before the Enervate. He didn't want any banter. The first spell was cast but they heard a strangely ominous sound in the place of the Avada Kedavra. The pronunciation of one of the final spells was slightly altered, too. The outcome, though, remained the same. By the time Greyback finished his smoke, the door opened as before. The sound they had heard was explained by the deep slice into the man's throat. He hadn't died as easily as his predecessor.

"Do we need to do this, again?" asked Ron. He had a slightly paler than usual complextion.

"We're halfway there," said Harry. "Something important might come up. He might say something to give a clue on what items the horcruxes are in or where he's going to hide them."

Hermione didn't look any more eager than Ron to continue, but she agreed with Harry. These people were already dead. They couldn't help them. If they could learn something, though, they wouldn't have died in vain. With a nod, she said, "Harry's right. Let's just finish."

* * *

"Bring me someone especially good," ordered Voldemort. "A priest or minister or something." He made no offer of an explanation and Greyback didn't ask. This time, they appeared near a small hamlet that was home to a Methodist church. The pastor, Rev. Georgia Periwine, was finishing up her supper in the parsonage. Her husband, also a minister, was visiting a cottage nearby where a child had taken ill. She had a slight cough and didn't want to risk infecting the boy if it was something contagious.

"I wonder why he wanted someone _especially good,_" asked Ron. Hermione and Harry both shrugged.

Greyback listened for a few seconds and, after assuring himself that no one was nearby, rang the bell. They all heard footsteps approaching and the door opened, without the necessity of having to be unlocked first.

"Good evening, young man," said the middle-aged reverend. "May I help you?"

"Good evening, ma'am," replied Greyback. "Would the Vicar be nearby?"

"If you're looking for the pastor of this church," replied Reverend Periwine, "that would be me. My husband is away for a few minutes, but he's the pastor at the church in Homblin."

"Sorry for the misunderstanding, miss," said Greyback. "I'm sure you'll do just fine." He pulled out his wand. Before Rev. Periwine could come up with the purpose of the little stick, she was lying on the ground.

"Why can't he just kidnap some murderers or something?" wondered Hermione. The kindly pastor absolutely exuded love for her fellow man. Now, for no other reason than she'd answered her door, she'd be dead in less than ten minutes.

"I don't like it, either," said Harry, glumly. He had also wondered why such a nice old lady had to be killed.

The repartee on the porch was nearly nonexistent by now. Voldemort had tired of silent victims, it seemed. After casting the first spell, he was heard to release the head of his victim just as Harry and Company had done, many times before.

"What's going on?" asked Periwine in apparent terror. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to kill you," replied Voldemort coldly. "What do you think of that?" He seemed intent on playing with her, first.

"Why would you want to do that, my son," asked the reverend. She was trying to quickly build a personal connection so that she might be spared.

"I'm not your son," said Voldemort. "To answer your question, I'm killing you because it will help me a great deal. Well, if it's done right, anyway. What do you think of that?" They heard the sound of steel being pulled from leather. The knife was now out in the open.

"Please," begged Periwine, "I don't want to die. I have a congregation and a husband to take care of."

"They'll survive," replied Voldemort, "unless, of course, I decided to kill some of them, as well."

There was a scream. Greyback looked up for a second before returning to his silent contemplations.

"That's right," said Voldemort. "Perhaps your cries will help. Please continue." They heard one set of footsteps. He must have moved even closer to his victim. There was silence.

"What's the matter?" asked Voldemort. "Go ahead and scream. There's no shame. You're about to die." Again the floor creaked.

Softly, and almost inaudibly to even the werewolf hearing, some words were spoken. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name." Greyback snapped his head around and listened as intently as the three teens. "Thy Kindom come, thy..." The prayer was interrupted by a quick shtunk, followed by another and another. A body fell to the floor. Greyback turned back to stare over the vacant street. The final two spells were only heard in part due to Hermione's sobbing. She didn't ask to leave, though. With luck, it would soon all be over and they could discuss what they'd learned.

* * *

When the door opened, Voldemort was decidedly looking haggard. The body of the pastor lay behind him in a pool of blood. Her heart had been stabbed repeatably.

"You look terrible, Tom," said Greyback. "Why don't you call it a night?" He actually showed concern.

"Not yet," replied Voldemort. "I'd like to try one more time. I think I was close, this time. Perhaps..." He paused, thinking. "Yes, I think that's what's needed. Take her away and return with a child. A young girl."

Greyback paused for the slightest of seconds. He didn't mind killing; far from it. But so far, he couldn't make any sense out of this night. To kill just to kill? Even he didn't do that.

"You don't seem well," he tried, again. "A little rest is..."

"Do it," ordered Voldemort. He turned and walked into the bathroom to splash some water onto his face.

Greyback shrugged and grabbed the woman and pulled her out with the others. With a pop, they were at his next observation post.

* * *

Jasmine Hencle trudged along behind her mother and younger sister on their way from their home on Jellington Drive to the movie house, just three blocks away. They were on their way to see the new movie 'Pocahontas' that had been released the month before but had finally made it to the venues that this less-than-well-off family could afford. Although more of an American heroine, the young Indian princess had enough ties to England to make her well known and popular with girls of Jasmine's age on this side of the ocean as well. She had been looking forward to this day for weeks. With her hair braided up in beads and her Cherokee Barbie® clutched in her hand, she could barely control her excitement.

On a rooftop, overhead, another type of character watched. While Harry, Ron and Hermione watched, Greyback had been waiting for just such an opportunity. This young family was alone. The mother was holding onto the hands of the youngest girl with only a glance back to the older from time to time. They also seemed to be in a hurry. He glanced ahead on their route. A crosswalk was coming up. The alley just before would be dark enough and close at hand. Even the traffic on the road had died down. With a pop, he apparated down.

"Come along, Jasmine," said Mrs. Hencle. She had Julia by one hand and her purse in the other. Looking back to make sure Jasmine was paying attention, she waited for the light to change. It would be the last time she saw her daughter.

An invisible, at least to muggles, beam of light flashed out from the alley just before the crossing signal changed. Jasmine, already standing still, remained even more so. She watched, unable to move, as her mother walked away. She couldn't shout. She couldn't run. She just watched. Before five seconds had passed, she felt rough hands grab her and pull her into an alley. She felt a strange sensation of compression and nausea overwhelm her, but before she could think, it was gone. Now, she was in a strange room with an even stranger man examining her. He raised a stick and said something. She could move, again.

"Where am I," she demanded of the man. Turning around, she confronted the man who had held her. "What do you want?"

"Thank you, Greyback," said Lord Voldemort. "She'll do nicely. That will be all." With a nod, Greyback walked out of the front door to wait on the porch. His unseen shadows were compelled to join him.

"I don't want to stay," whispered Hermione through her tears. "I don't want to hear." She put her hands to her head to block the sounds that would be coming any second.

With a look to Ron, Harry nodded. The three of them touched hands and lifted themselves out of the pensieve.

* * *

Hermione took two steps and vomited on the floor. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling her hair back and wiping off the ends. "I just... can't..." She did it, again. Ron floated off to give them some privacy. Harry pulled his wand and cleaned up after his wife. He held her as she calmed herself.

How things had changed since they had spoken to Greyback, last night. Harry thought he knew him well enough to let him have a fully functional wand for a bit. He was getting to know him and, when he admitted it to himself, liked him in a strange way. To see what he'd done changed everything. Could he still view Fenrir as a victim of circumstance. He didn't know. He _did_ know that they'd have to finish this memory, sometime. But for now, it could wait. Harry sat in his chair holding his wife. Hermione, who was only eighteen, after all, and despite all she'd seen and experienced, wasn't ready for this sort of evil. Who was? Harry considered this question long past noon as his love, exhausted from the emotional drain of the journey into the pensieve, slept in his arms.

Author's note: It's a short chapter but I didn't want to mix anything else in with this part of the story. I'm on vacation this week so I might even push out another chapter. See you then.

Dad


	105. Chapter 105

Chapter 105 - High Hopes

November 20th, 1997

Earlier that Morning, Around 8:00 AM, Italian time

~There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,

There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,

The corn is as high as an elephant's eye,

An' it looks like its climbin' clear up to the sky...~

Voldemort opened one eye. Not usually prone to dreams, he was nevertheless unsure of how else to explain the... he guessed it would have to be classified as singing.

~Oh what a beautiful morning,

Oh what a beautiful day,~

That was singing, alright, and it was getting closer. He heard the door latch being engaged.

~I've got a wonderful feeling,

Everything's going my way.~

There were some clinking noises followed shortly by one of the curtains being drawn back. The warm rays of the Tuscany sun shown through the window and illuminated the stone wall that the Dark Lord happened to be facing.

~All the cattle are standing like statues,

All the cattle are standing like statues,~

Cattle? Standing like statues? Just how much alcohol had he drunk last night?

~They don't turn their heads as they see me ride by.

But a little brown mav'rick is winking her eye...~

'That's it,' thought Voldemort, identifying the source, 'I'm going to kill him.' He reached for his wand. As he turned over in his bed to take aim, he noticed the breakfast tray. The large platter held an ample bowl of honeyed fruit salad, crepes with salted butter caramel, chocolat chaud, Belgian waffles, eggs with black truffles and a steaming pot of premium Brazilian coffee.

'Well,' thought Voldemort, 'maybe it_ is_ a nice morning.'

Richards, noticing that his boss was awake, said, "Good morning, Master." He finished with the drapes before properly distributing the contents of the tray on the small breakfast table. When finished, he pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet out of his robes and placed it off to the side, for later. From another pocket, he produced the real reason for the morning's serenade.

"We received a letter from the Count this morning," said Richards. He placed the envelope next to the newspaper.

Voldemort stood up from his bed and slipped into his dressing gown. Stretching a bit, he sauntered over to the table and took his seat. Picking up the letter, he glanced at the envelope briefly before handing it to Richards. "Read this while I eat," he ordered. He took a sip of the coffee before adding, "In English."

"Of course, Lord," gushed Richards. There was something about the way Richards said 'Lord' and 'Master' that tempted Voldemort to order his men to just call him 'Sir', instead.

"My dear Lord Voldemort," began Richards, grabbing a nearby chair. "I had a bit more difficulty locating the brothers than I had anticipated. It seems they managed to attract more trouble than usual and ended up in the Château de Coups Durs. That's the French wizard prison, Master," explained Richards unnecessarily. "Anyway, let's see... Oh, here we go. I managed to secure their release before the end of their sentence. (I trust the added expense won't be an undue burden.) My party will arrive at your villa this evening. As I found that your chef is unusually competent, for an Englishman," at this, Richards smirked a bit, "I shall plan to arrive in time to join you for supper. If you should happen to remember, my dear Lord, please inform him that I'm especially fond of beef bourguignonne. Yours, Count L'Argenterie."

"Very well," said Voldemort, munching on some fruit. "Plan a particularly sophisticated meal for this evening. Plenty of appetizers, desserts and wine. Especially wine."

"Yes, Master," said Richards, excitedly. "I'll begin right away." He stood and nearly pranced towards the door in his enthusiasm.

"One more thing," said Voldemort, hesitantly. Did he really want to subject himself to this? "Instruct someone else on the proper way to serve the food. I'd like for you to sit next to the Count and myself. He seems to like you. I want you to chat with him. Talk about cooking. Whatever he likes. Put him at ease. Your friend knows a great deal that could be of use. I'd like to oil the hinges on the Count's jaws with wine, good food and pleasant conversation. Perhaps something of interest might slip out."

* * *

Just After Noon In the Music Department of the Fortress of Solitude.

Greyback tapped the record with his wand. As was the case about eighty percent of the time, nothing happened. He took a breath and tried it again. This time, the familiar metronome that led into all of the songs in this series started up. One, two, three, four, one, two, inhale, play. He started playing the solo to 'It's a Small World' as the phantom orchestra filled in the rest. He wasn't particularly fond of the song but it did work over his lips while helping to block out the memory of the other song that had crept back into his dreams. Actually, he thought, it worked a little_ too well_ at that. For some reason, he couldn't get the tune out of his head after playing it just a couple of times. Still, he was able to sustain some of the lower register long enough for this quick song. That was an accomplishment long in the making. Now, he was determined to build on that to get back to the level he had enjoyed as a teenager. This... what did Hermione call it? An attention getter? Anyway, this... thing... that was on the end of his wand was definitely a mixed blessing. It cut down his spells to nearly useless levels but it did allow him to start the disks that Hermione had enchanted for him; given a try or two.

While Greyback practiced, Martha sat just down the hall; knitting and listening. She was taking a break from reviewing the parchments he had written. From the numerous supplemental musings and asides, as well as the mysterious incidents such as the near fainting spell from last night, she knew that the full story of _his_ life would be even more voluminous than the piles of scrolls setting next to her . Of particular importance to him, judging by his frequent references to it, were his years with the Sisters of Mercy. Despite his hyperbole laden characterizations of life with the nuns, there was always a hint of nostalgia mixed in. It seemed as if he had lived with, as well as been taught by them so she assumed that he might have been an orphan. He had been bitten while a teen and, as such, he would have still been in their care. How they had reacted to his curse he had never shared. All of his stories were of his time before, or after he had already left. Now that she thought of it, such an omission was odd. One way or the other, it would have had to have been traumatic. Was their reaction the difference that made him a monster instead of someone more like Remus; or the majority of the other werewolves she had met, for that matter?

With her nearly nonexistent official workload, these days, she had time for such speculations. It was almost her hobby, actually. Starting with Wormtail, she had come to see many of the Death Eaters as more than generic villains. There was Bobbie Gindale, for instance, who had been observed on the maps entering the Hogsmeade flower shop every Friday afternoon. His destination was not on any of the maps so it had been unknown as to who the lucky lady was. While talking to him, about a month after his capture during the sham kidnaping attempt of the children on Diagon Alley, she had discovered that his mother was in a muggle nursing home in Aberdeen and he visited her on Fridays. When she brought this up to Hermione, she had agreed to let Martha visit the old woman, with an elf escort, to inform her that her son was safe but unable to visit her, for the time being. Mrs. Gindale expressed so much relief that her missing son was well and thanked Martha so tearfully for the good news that Martha had arranged for a local shop to send her a fresh bouquet every Friday. Gindale, himself, who by virtue of being captured during that particular day was known to be less than top shelf, was glad to know that his mother wouldn't remain ignorant of his fate. Ron had overruled the possibility of regular correspondence between _any_ Death Eater and their families due to the risks involved. In this case, though, her three bosses had agreed to the possibility of a supervised visit for Christmas.

Now, however, she just sat, knitted and listened. Harry, Hermione and Ron were currently in their pensieve. At least as far as she knew. She had been instructed to stay out of their office until notified differently. An elf guard had been placed at the door to prevent anyone from accidentally entering and tipping the magical bowl onto the floor. They didn't come right out and _say _they were most worried about Tonks, but she was the prime concern.

After quite a while, she noticed Luna coming down the hall. She was only three stitches into the current row so she set her needles and yarn down before starting a conversation that would, if the past were any indication of the future, cause her to forget where she was.

"Good afternoon, Martha," said Luna, coming up and sitting next to Martha.

"Is it afternoon, already," asked Martha. She looked at her watch. "I guess it is. I'm surprised I didn't notice that I was hungry."

"You'll be hearing from my solicitor," warned Luna, sternly. "I've got the copyright on that sort of thinking."

"Not possible," replied Martha, unconcerned. "Trelawney put it in the public domain years ago." They both laughed.

Luna turned to watch Greyback for a minute. He was nearing he end of the song and was stuttering around a bit as he had to consciously think of the fingerings. That would pass, soon enough, but for now it made it a little harder to listen to.

"Can you hear the echo?" asked Luna. She turned her head as if to optimize the experience.

"A little," said Martha. "I think it makes him sound better. When I'm right next to the cell, you don't get that effect."

"Where's the rest of the band?" asked Luna.

"Hermione found some muggle things; I forget what they're called, that have all of the parts to a song but one. She enchanted them to work when he casts a simple spell."

"I'm surprised they let him have his wand," said Luna.

"So was I," agreed Martha. "Some friends of theirs made something that goes over the tip to make your spells less powerful. Oliver and his crew have them. They make practice much safer."

"Still," said Luna, turning back to have a closer look at Greyback.

"From what I understand," said Martha, explaining further, "the regular devices reduce the power of the spells cast by around ten times, or so. The one they gave Fenrir was made for Harry. Believe me, he's lucky to get the tip to glow."

"Oh," said Luna. "Speaking of Harry, I noticed that he and Hermione are having some quiet time in the office. Do you know how long they expect to be at it?"

"What sort of quiet time?" asked Martha. If she was banished from her office, it had better be for a better reason than allowing Harry and Hermione to have a place to snog.

"It looked like a _quiet_ quiet time," replied Luna. "Hermione was sitting in Harry's lap with her arms around him and he was just holding her. I'm not even sure she was awake. I had come down specifically to see them, since they weren't around all day. I talked to Ron at lunchtime but he didn't say much except that they were watching a pretty bad memory of Fenrir's. I have an hour free so I came down to see them, but an elf at the door said I couldn't go into the office."

"We'd better check on them," said Martha, rising. "I knew about the memory. It's of some murders that Greyback witnessed, but it sounds like Hermione didn't hold up well." She gathered up her knitting.

"I'm not sure you'll be able to convince the guard," said Luna, following behind.

"We'll see about that," said Martha.

* * *

They hadn't quite made it back to the office when Hermione, seemingly quite upset, came storming out the door, followed closely by Harry.

"Hold on, Hermione," called Harry, jogging to catch up. "Don't..." He noticed the other women coming their way.

"I'm not going to kill him," called Hermione, repeating a phrase from a previous time when she was in a similar mood. She also noticed Martha and Luna but didn't stop to greet, or even acknowledge them. They stood to one side to allow her to pass. Harry glanced their way with a worried expression, but continued on after his wife. Martha and Luna came to a quick, joint and nonverbal agreement to follow.

Greyback presented a profile view as he was beginning an interesting arrangement of 'High Hopes'. The total incongruity of the song with its performer as well as the slight irony of the situation distracted Hermione enough to ratchet her back one click. She let go of the hilt of her wand but still lashed out vocally.

"You!" she screamed, pointing her finger at the trumpeter in her fury. "You bloody bastard! You just brought them to Voldemort to be slaughtered like animals!"

Greyback set the trumpet down in its holder and calmly replied, "I believe you knew that going in. I put that all in..."

"I knew you _did_ it," retorted Hermione, "but the _way_ you did it; like they were _nothing_!" Hermione shuddered in horror as Harry put his arms around her to try to calm her.

"Just following orders," said Greyback. "Nothing personal about it."

"Nothing personal?" shrieked Hermione. "It's personal to _me_. After all you've done here; all the help, the stories, the jokes. After letting my husband cure you. I was getting to _like_ you. To find out that you're capable of such... such..."

"Evil," finished Greyback. "Yes, I know." He had a resigned expression on his face instead of the usual indifference as he started to turn aside.

"Then to find out you're nothing but a _monster_!" finished Hermione, dropping her head in disbelief. Greyback felt a chill run through him as she spoke those words. Snapping his head back towards Hermione, he was caught instead by the gaze of the young blonde just behind and to the side. Luna made the 'connection' instinctively as she had done all of her life. In his momentarily unguarded state, though, she looked directly into Greyback's soul. What she felt was beyond her. Without a word, she collapsed.

"Luna," cried Harry, releasing Hermione to try to mitigate the fall. He protected her head, at least. Hermione and Martha both forgot Greyback in their rush to help.

"Luna!" called Hermione, shaking her a little more forcefully than recommended. When there was no response, she leapt to her feet and rushed the cell.

"What did you do to her!" she shouted, her anger causing her hair to crackle with pent-up magical power.

"I... I... nothing," pleaded Greyback, as shocked as anyone. He moved to the side to see if the young witch had recovered.

Hermione, unconvinced, nevertheless turned back to help. Pulling her wand, she incanted "Enervate". With a shudder and a gasp, Luna opened her eyes.

"Oh," she said, breathlessly. She said no more for a moment as she recovered her bearings.

"Are you alright?" asked Martha, assisting Luna to a sitting position.

"I... I'm fine, now," said Luna before struggling to her feet. "It was just..." She stopped.

"What happened?" asked Harry. He pulled Luna to one of the nearby chairs.

"I..." began Luna, turning a now inwardly guarded eye towards the cell of the former werewolf. She could tell that his shields had also gone back up. "I'll be alright, now."

"Let's go back to the office," suggested Martha. The proximity of Greyback wouldn't do either of the other women any good, she reasoned.

"Yes," agreed Hermione. "You can have a lie-down on the couch." Without objections, the small party went back to the office.

Left behind; alone with his thoughts, was Greyback. He stared down the hallway until the group was out of sight. He stood that way for a few minutes longer before trying to return to normal. Sitting back in his chair, he picked up his trumpet and blew out the spit. Pulling his wand, he tapped the disk. Nothing happened. He tapped it again, and then twice more before it started up. The intro began and he tried to play along. It wasn't working for him, though. He couldn't hear the music. He couldn't see the notes. All that he could focus on was one word; _monster_. Standing up, the emotions and memories overwhelmed him and he flung his trumpet as hard as he could against the wall. Dropping to his bed, his head in his hands, he moaned in torment and grief.

* * *

Just past lunchtime at the Voldemort Stronghold at Penjerrick

"It's about time," muttered Snape. He casually pointed his wand at the envelope and let the contents fall to the table. It was originally from his latest spy; Perry Caro. She wouldn't last long sending letters directly to the Dark Lord's strongholds, though, so they came upon the idea to use one of her late husband's old friends as a conduit. John Mullenix had the good fortune to have Mort as his last partner before retirement. They had kept in touch over the years and when first Parry, and later Ellie, had formed Mort's family, John was there as sort of a Dutch uncle. Normally, he would have come immediately to offer help, support and protection to Mort's family after his death, but different plans were made. Three days before the murder of his protege, he was visited by Severus Snape. A quick Imperius Curse later and he was prepared for his new role. Any correspondence either to or from him would be beyond suspicion. Parry would write her letter to Snape. Then, she would enchant those words to disappear as she wrote a regular letter, perhaps even including a section from Ellie, and send it to the old Auror. He would read the top letter as would any old friend. The curse would kick in and he would send it on to Snape; remembering nothing about that transaction. A day or so later, a letter would come from Snape. It would be blank. John would write a response to the original letter and send it back to Parry. It was quick, secure and easy enough for everyone to handle their part.

"Let's see," continued Snape. "Names of the widows in residence. Confirmation that they were being housed at Hogwarts. Allowed to leave for short trips but encouraged to take elf bodyguards. Hmm. Lupin and McGonagall seem to be in charge of the widows but the Potters stop by from time to time. Here we go; Diben's wife and children are with the general population. Diben's dead? Found out about the balls, eh? Well, it won't have an effect on their continued use, I suppose. Hmm. The North Pole, again? Why would they continue that charade with Mrs. Diben? Unless, of course, it's true. Hmm." He glanced through the rest of the letter before placing it in a new envelope. Sealing it with a special spell to prevent unwanted readers, he handed it to that day's courier. Kevin Planter placed the note in his robes and made his way past the anti-apparition wards before proceeding on the long journey to his Master.

Snape waited for a few minutes before heading to the library to review the information they had previously collected about the North Pole. He'd better be prepared, he thought.

* * *

Back in the Office of the Fortress of Solitude.

"It's... it's my father. He's thinking of doing something that might get him into trouble." Luna was feeling better after the Greyback incident but was quite disturbed by the potential, yet unrevealed future activity of Linus. Having chosen to refuse discussion on what had caused her earlier collapse, they had moved on to the initial reason for her visit.

"Linus?" asked Hermione. She quickly thought 'No. Her _other_ father.' She, also, had mostly recovered from her earlier distress.

"Yes," said Luna. "He's applied for the job of editor of the Daily Prophet." She looked quite worried about even saying it out loud.

"But he still has a _soul_," said Harry. Luna laughed, mildly.

"I know," she said, a sheepish grin on her face. "It doesn't sound so serious when I say it out loud." Her expression changed abruptly as she continued. "It's just... after what happened to Mr. Cuffe..."

"You're afraid that the editor of the Daily Prophet would be a little more noticeable to certain Dark Lords than the publisher of the Quibbler," reasoned Hermione. She could see where Luna would be concerned.

"Yes," replied Luna. "When he published your interview two years ago, he thinks he was followed around for months."

"Really?" asked Harry. "I ... Just a moment. I think one or two of the blokes we captured mentioned that, now that I think of it."

"I don't remember that subject coming up in any of the reports," said Martha. She thought quietly some more, just in case her memory improved.

"It was just in passing," said Harry. "I don't remember the original topic." He, also, tried to prod his reluctant memory.

"Anyway," said Hermione, trying to get them all back on track.

"Anyway," said Harry, "That's all I remember. I'll have someone look through the notes to see who it was. Of course, I'm not even sure I wrote it down, at the time." He looked meaningfully at Martha who nodded and wrote a note to have the elves search for references to Mr. Lovegood in their library of prisoner interrogations.

After a moment's thought, Martha commented, "I'm afraid I don't see why that information would be relevant, anyway. As far as we know, they didn't do anything."

"It's _why_ they didn't do anything that's important," said Hermione. "There's usually only one ending when Voldemort decides to have you tailed." She looked sadly at a forlorn Luna."

"I'm afraid that _why_ they stopped isn't what I wished to discuss," said Luna. "I want to know if there's anything we could do in case they decide he's important, again."

"Like some form of protection," continued Harry, nodding. "Well, I'm sure we could come up with something. A goblin ward around the building would provide a certain amount of security by itself. Fred and George have a device of sorts that would also be useful."

"If it came down to it," added Martha, "a couple of the Hogwarts Free Elves could be stationed with him." She glanced at the former guard who remained standing nearby.

"I'm not sure that that would be appropriate," said Hermione. "They didn't volunteer to be private security guards."

"That's true," replied Harry. He thought a moment. "Well, it might not even happen. Luna, I think if we gave it some thought, we'd be able to come up with something else. If they make him an offer, let us know as soon as possible."

"They made him an offer," said Luna, holding up the letter she received that morning. "Yesterday afternoon."

"I see," said Harry. His brief hope that he wouldn't have to use his volunteers for what was essentially a private operation fell completely off the tracks. Luna was not only a close friend; she was a _special_ friend, in the true sense of the word. Appropriate or not, he would do whatever was necessary to prevent her from becoming an orphan.

"Thank you, Harry," said Luna, very much relieved. _She_, of course, knew he'd help just a few seconds after _he_ knew. She'd seen it in his eyes.

* * *

Early Afternoon, in the Bowels of Machine Shop Nirvana.

"Finally!" shouted Vernon in joy. "It's done!" He set down his needlenose pliers after securing the last cotter key. "Cross your fingers," he continued, moving into the final testing stage. He marked a reference point on a piece of scrap with his wax pencil. Running the cutter head randomly in all three directions for several seconds, he returned the dials to their original position and rechecked. "Minimal lash. Smooth and consistent adjustment. Good enough for the girls you go out with," he declared to Kreacher, triumphantly.

"Karl isn't being going out with any girls, Vernon," objected Kreacher.

"It's just an expression," explained Vernon, picking up one of the access plates. Screwing it and it's brother back into place, he first wiped down the machine and then his hands. A few blisters had sprouted on his fleshy fingers but he knew they'd be short term. As his calluses began to redevelop, they'd cease being a concern.

"All we need now are the raw materials. Let's start at that supply house in Lancashire," said Vernon. "I want to see if the parts I've ordered have arrived, yet."

"Yes, Vernon," replied Kreacher. He took Vernon's hand and they popped off.

"What's all the shoutin' about?" asked George, coming around the corner a moment later. It had sounded clear enough that the mill was fixed but he wanted to personally congratulate Vernon. As he entered the empty shop, he stood quite still as he tried to figure out what had happened. The mill was all buttoned up, so he guessed that part of his assumption was correct. Vernon and Karl, who he had just heard talking quite loudly, were nowhere to be seen. As there were no other doors, and the window would be the world's most unlikely egress for the likes of Vernon, he was forced to return, in quite a befuddled state, to his front workshop.

* * *

Back in Tuscanny

Voldemort sat in his hot tub, rereading the letter Snape had sent him while working on his newfound appreciation of brandy. The barrel of spirits had been missed, apparently, when the previous owner's family moved the other valuables to their preferred dwelling. Too bad for them, he thought. It was a true Italian Grappa, but aged quite a bit more than was common. He didn't know the type of sherry that the cask had originally held, but it worked well with the pomace brandy. His only regret was that it might be a one-shot that couldn't be properly reproduced.

Back to the letter, he noted that of all the news, only two items stood out. The first was the fact that Diben's widow had been placed in a different location, however briefly, upon her arrival at Hogwarts. He wanted to know where that had been; what she had seen. Progress on that front might yield useful information. More important than that, however, was this reference to the North Pole. He had two conflicting accounts, now; both seemingly made in friendly company with no realistic expectation that the information could possibly make its way back to him.

A few weeks earlier, at the Weasley house, those in the know were laughing about how the silly tale of a fortress near the North Pole was still being taken seriously. Now, the same people had told the wife of a prisoner that her husband had been taken there. He supposed that it was _possible_ that they thought she might try to get information back to his Death Eaters. Then again, perhaps continuing with that story was simply a precaution; just in case. He did that sort of thing himself. Or maybe someone had a few too many at the birthday party and let something slip and the response was to laugh it off. Wonderful. He sipped his drink. Mentally flipping a coin, he decided that most of the information he had pointed towards a facility existing at the North Pole. Both the old and new detection methods pointed in that direction. It might not be the Fortress of Solitude, but there was something there. Perhaps that would be a worthy first task for these brothers he was to meet. If they could succeed where Pettigrew had failed, he'd be in a much better position in his dealings with Potter. It would be a good test of their abilities. He glanced at his watch. Three more hours until the Count arrived. Just enough time to have one more glass before sobering up.

* * *

In the outdoor courtyard of the secure flats.

"I think something could be arranged," said Hermione. "We wouldn't want to do anything larger than groups of two or three families, though. A mob would definitely draw attention from the wrong sorts."

"My boys cause enough trouble for a mob with just the two of them," laughed Mrs. Diben. The other women gathered around pointedly _didn't_ join in. Cathy might have noticed but didn't let on. "I've noticed," said Hermione. She, along with Harry, had made one of their irregular trips to visit the guests in protective custody to see if they had anything that needed to be taken care of. A few of the picnic tables and lawn furniture had been gathered together for the impromptu meeting. The subject of outside excursions for shopping or just a change of scenery had been brought up.

"We wouldn't want to be too predictable, either," added Harry. "We'll schedule the trips on different days and times."

"Of course," agreed Hermione. She picked up her quill and parchment and asked, "Now, I know it's short notice, but Harry and I were planning on going to Diagon Alley Saturday morning, anyway. It might be a good idea to make the first trip at that time since Harry would be there and we'd have our own elf guards, as well as those accompanying you. Who could be ready by then?" Several hands went up.

"You and you," she said, pointing at the two fastest women. "We'll leave around nine o'clock. The rest of you should be able to make your own schedule. Remember; two or three at a time. Try to have a day or so between trips. Any of the elves should be able to help coordinate your security."

"What about money?" asked one of the two women assigned to the first trip. "Will we be able to stop at Gringott's?"

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Harry. "Hermione and I'll be nearby at the Sarus Jewelry Store. That should draw any attention away from the rest of you."

"I suppose you're noticed wherever you go," commented another woman.

"Surprisingly, people are pretty understanding about our privacy," said Hermione. "All things considered, we usually don't have much trouble when visiting Diagon Alley."

'That's about to change,' thought Parry Caro as she discreetly made her way back to her rooms. She had another letter to send.

* * *

Author's Note: The lyrics at the beginning are, of course, from 'Oklahoma' and were written by Oscar Hammerstein II.


	106. Chapter 106

Chapter 106 - The Good, the Bad and the Sleepy

November 20th, 1997

Evening in Tuscany

(Compete sentences that are in italics should be perceived as being spoken in French.)

Lord Voldemort wasn't happy. This was difficult to understand when, to all measurable circumstances, he was getting everything he had asked for. Richards had prepared a lavish banquet to impress their guests. He was also visiting quite intimately with the Count and had definitely set him at ease. Count L'Argenterie had brought the promised young and inexperienced, but eager brothers. Perhaps _that_ was it.

Camille and Michel Vicieux-Salauds sat just across from him at the main table. Slurping down their food with their nonstop talking and laughter, he came to understand just what the Count had meant with his initial description. Despite their pencil mustaches, blue and white striped shirts, black berets and red neckerchiefs, they still presented an imposing persona. At over six feet eight, with their broad shoulders and thin waists, they were definitely as intimidating as described. From their constant laughter, jostling and tossing around of bits of food, he felt confident that their intellectual capacity was as equally accurately conveyed. He had discovered another heretofore unmentioned characteristic during the course of the meal and had quietly caused a slight breeze to blow towards them. After all; he may have a snake's nose, but it still worked.

"It's like I was back home with mama cooking for me," gushed Count L'Argenterie. He was sopping up the juice from the remains of his third helping of beef bourguignonne with one of his many fresh and still oven-warm whole wheat dinner rolls. A third batch had been placed in the kitchen oven, just in case.

"Thank you, Henri," replied Richards, smiling toothily. "_To tell you the truth, I appreciate the opportunity to stretch my skills for; how shall I put this; a more culinarily aware recipient_."

"_It is a common characteristic of the English_," said the Count. _"Food is for sustenance and little else. In France, it is an art_."

"_I couldn't agree more_," replied Richards, leaning closer. "_My own mother, for instance, made the same seven meals for supper each week. I think that's why I started to study cooking; self preservation_." They both laughed. Richards instinctively turned towards his boss to share the humor but found it hadn't affected him as much as his guest.

Count L'Argenterie also noticed. Speaking softly, he said, "_I take it your Lord Voldemort isn't fluent in the Language of Love._"

"_I'm not entirely sure_," replied Richards, just as softly. "_If I had to guess, though, I'd say he understands French about as well as a Spanish cow._" Once again, Count L'Argenterie, as well as the members of his party within earshot, broke out in raucous guffaws.

Once again, they were not joined by Lord Voldemort. Although definitely in hearing range, he had lost his well-know sense of humor shortly after the appetizers when, never before having had vichyssoise, he had blown briefly on his first spoonful before discovering quite quickly that it was served cold. Normally, he wouldn't have been able to give the exact time as to when he decided he didn't like someone, but the complete obnoxiousness of the French brothers as they laughed and pointed at his expression, set the moment in stone. He hadn't understood what they said, but he got the general idea.

His musings on his new enforcers led him down the tangential path of the possible alternative methods available to them for doing their jobs. By definition, an enforcer was someone who kept people; be they wayward minions, troublesome rivals or even inconvenient civilians, from straying too far from the paths that had been set before them. If they were good at their job, their assignments wouldn't want to see them twice. In the case of the Vicieux-Salauds brothers, their personalities accomplished that mission on their own.

"You are quite quiet, tonight, my dear Lord Voldemort," commented the Count. "I assume you are considering the many ways these bright young men will be of help to you?" He reached out and briefly shook Camille's forearm before pulling his hand back, now clutching a small plate of pecan pie.

Voldemort knew the Count was lying through his teeth with his praise but said, "You're very perceptive. I was just thinking about how effective I expect they'll be." He glanced over the area containing the pies but was disappointed to find that the last of the blueberry variety had been taken. He indicated the lemon meringue to his attendant as second choice.

"You have nothing to worry about, Monsieur," declared Michel, haughtily. "My brother and I shall, how you say, whip your pathetic boys without mercy until they become men you can be proud of." The idle chatter between the two factions ceased as the Englishmen were both insulted by the tone and disheartened by the implication. The other Frenchmen, having been long associated with Count L'Argenterie and knowing his ways tended towards subtlety and suggestion, were equally shocked by the effrontery of the young wizard. Even the French could tolerate arrogance only so far.

"It is not _these_ men," replied Voldemort, coldly, "that require any guidance. They are among my best. Furthermore, all of my Death Eaters, by and large, are sufficiently competent for any tasks I might assign." There were many noddings of heads and murmurs of approval at this statement. Voldemort knew that he could not allow such disparaging comments about his followers go unchallenged without unnecessary morale problems down the line. "However, a few of the very newest recruits might need a firm hand, from time to time. For the most part, though, your duties will be directed towards the ignorant populace. Many have decided that they no longer need fear my wrath as they had in the past. Your job will be to educate them."

"I see," replied Camille, putting his hand to his sparsely whiskered chin in mock thought. "The riff raff is becoming troublesome, no?"

"No. I mean yes," replied Voldemort. "We shall discuss your duties in more detail _in private_." He hoped that that would put an end to the subject. He hadn't intended for even this much to be discussed in the open.

"We understand," replied Camille, with Michel leaning in conspiratorially. "It's best to not speak of such matters in front of just _anyone_." He and his brother gave twin smirks while glancing disdainfully about at the Death Eaters at the other tables.

"They aren't _just anyone_," said Voldemort with increasing anger. "These men are my personal guard; entrusted with my own protection. They are all highly skilled in the magical arts. They could stand toe to toe with any auror and not back down."

"By the standards of your tiny island, perhaps," interjected Michel. "To us, of course, they are but the insects buzzing ..."

"Insects?" roared Voldemort, pulling his wand. Or so he intended. His hand came out empty. "Calm yourself, my dear Voldemort," said the Count. "Calm yourself. My young friends are both prideful and foolish. They will come to learn the ways of the world, and their places in it." He hadn't raised a hand nor pulled a wand, but both Michel and Camille seemed to be calmed, and to a certain extent, distressed. Breathing, it appeared, had become a bit more difficult than it had been a moment earlier. Voldemort, mollified a bit by the Count's disciplinary action, returned to his seat. His wand, he noticed a moment later, was still in its proper holder.

"The night is far too warm, I think," continued L'Argenterie. Come and join me in one of these exquisite ice cream concoctions. They are much too much for just one." He slid his banana split between the two of them and offered Voldemort a spoon.

Voldemort had no interest in sharing just now, but he knew he actually did need to calm himself if he wished to learn anything more tonight. He also liked his ice cream. Seeing the stress of the past few minutes as an opportunity to get a bit more into the mind of the Count, he took the spoon. "Thank you," he began, thinking of the tact he wished to take. "Perhaps a change of subject would be advisable. You mentioned at our last meeting of a long term project. Has that been progressing to your liking?" He took a spoonful of the dessert while he waited for an answer. There was a gasp from both of the brothers before the Count relaxed a bit and pondered on his answer.

"It's hard to say," replied L'Argenterie. "We move forward here and backwards there. Sometime we stay where we are. All in all, I suppose I'm satisfied."

'How informative,' thought Voldemort, taking his second bite. "If there's anything I can do to help smooth the way..." he offered.

"I remember our agreement," replied the Count. He had negotiated two favors when agreeing to introduce the brothers to Voldemort. "I currently have everything under control. I prefer to work more behind the scenes. A nudge here or there at the right time, you see. It takes great patience compared with more direct methods, but when done correctly, everything that you wish to happen, happens, while no one suspects you're involved at all."

"Very true," agreed Voldemort. He also took another bite while pondering this thought.

"Subtlety and patience are the frailties of the aged," commented Michel. "Strike hard and often, and before you know it, you need not strike at all." Camille grunted his agreement.

"Coincidentally," said Voldemort, ignoring the bravado behind the statement, "that's the technique used by my primary foe. It used to be mine, as well, until I acquired a bit more of the intelligence that Count L'Argenterie possesses in abundance. For the time being, though, you will be allowed to proceed with that philosophy as it fits well with my intended uses for your talents. The downside, of course, is that to be successful, you must never allow yourselves to fail. The perception of invincibility must persist for any long term benefits to accrue. Be beaten once, and the illusion is broken." He had learned that lesson the hard way.

"We have never been defeated," boasted Camille, pridefully. "Say the word and anyone you wish will be vanquished." Michel crossed his arms triumphantly in complete agreement.

"A tempting offer," mused Lord Voldemort. It really was. Curiosity alone was nearly enough for him to send them after Harry Potter. He hadn't built up much affection for the pair, and after seeing what had happened during the first half of the battle in Cuffe's office and hearing reports about the end, he wondered how Potter would top himself. Still, he hadn't had the opportunity to judge these two boys and didn't want to waste their potential.

"I believe you can fight," he said, finally. "Your sponsor, Count L'Argenterie has assured me of that much. The day may come when I'll unleash you. For now, however, you'd do well to curb your arrogance. You haven't yet been defeated simply because you haven't fought anyone of sufficient power and skill to do so. Such wizards exist. Indeed, you are in the presence of several of them."

"A valid point," responded L'Argenterie before one or both of the idiot brothers could comment on the same being true of their new boss. "If you substituted the phrase 'I've never been killed' for 'I've never been defeated', you can see how meaningless such boasts can be."

This was true and, more importantly, complicated enough to keep the young men thinking for a bit. It also gave Voldemort something to ponder. He was confident that his power far outstripped the boastful pair, but he, too, had known defeat. His greatest Death Eaters; Malfoy, Greyback, Lestrange, Macnair, Nott, Dolohov; had all been captured or killed by Potter. Dumbledore had even been killed. Only Harry Potter had... No, not even him. Snape had bested him the night that Dumbledore had died. Who had never tasted defeat? Grindelwald had been overthrown. Even Slytherin. Perhaps there was no escaping that fate. In the pursuit of power, perhaps the only way to win is not to play.

"Are you alright, my friend?' asked Count L'Argenterie. He had a concerned look on his face as Voldemort's eyes turned from looking in to looking out.

"What?" he asked, before coming around. "Oh, yes. I was just thinking." He took another spoonful of ice cream while thinking to himself 'of Plan B'.

* * *

Later that night, just past the time decent people should have been in bed.

A lone figure made her way past the snake pillars as she walked from the office to her destination. The torches were lit, as usual. Day or night, they were magically enchanted to provide light whenever anyone was near. As there were always people; Death Eaters to be exact, nearby, the torches burned continuously. The prisoners had long since become used to this and had found other methods to judge the passage of time. The paper, for example, always arrived in the morning; lunch came at noon and so forth. For this reason, along with the fact that there was little else to do as well as absolute silence in their cells, most of those in the hallway were sleeping quite soundly.

Despite knowing that she couldn't be heard and was unlikely to be seen, the woman hesitantly moved from shadow to shadow as she proceeded along. What had brought her to this? She didn't know. She wasn't even sure what it was she was trying to accomplish. All she knew was that her instincts had told her to come. Something was awakened earlier that day that wouldn't go back into hiding. She reached her intended location and paused.

The subject of her experiment lay sleeping. The slow, rhythmic pace of his breathing indicated as much, at least. Without being able to actually hear him, she couldn't be sure. Taking a step to the control panel for the cell, she nearly activated the sound when, against all logic or sane thought, she instead touched her ring to the portkey icon and entered the cell. There was no sound, of course, but the man on the bed disrupted his breathing pattern for a moment before returning to normal. The intruder took a chair and waited.

The ability isn't related to any of the normally recognized group of senses, but most people can tell when they're being watched. The feeling is slight, but cumulative. After already being in the most fragile phase of sleep by virtue of the arrival of his guest, it didn't take long for the contemplative stare to register and require investigation. With uncertainty, the man rolled over and opened his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" asked Greyback, shocked and confused. He quickly pulled himself around into a sitting position.

"I've come to talk with you, I think," replied Luna. She wasn't shocked that he had woken but she wasn't all too sure of how to proceed.

"You think?" asked Greyback. He then looked around. "Where's everyone else?" He stood and walked to the wall of his cell to get a better view down the corridor.

"There's just me," replied Luna. "I didn't think they'd let me see you so I..."

"And they'd be right," interrupted Greyback. "No guards? What were you thinking? You shouldn't be alone in here with me. Get out before you get into trouble." He backed away while indicating the exit control icon.

"Don't be afraid," entreated Luna. "I'm here to help you."

"I'm not afraid," lied Greyback. "I just don't want to get into trouble if I hurt you." He backed further away.

"That's two lies," said Luna, standing up. "You_ are_ afraid. Deathly afraid. But it isn't of getting into trouble. You're afraid of..."

"I'm not afraid of anything," snapped Greyback. "You just shouldn't be here." Again, he approached the wall next to the corridor. "Hey!" he called. "Get this crazy girl out of here!" He looked for any signs of life.

"I didn't turn off the silencing charm," informed Luna. "No one can hear us."

"That's what you think," replied Greyback. "Elf!" he cried.

Within a couple of seconds, Stomper arrived nearby and, after activating the sound, asked, "What is Prisoner Greyback being needing?"

"This girl shouldn't be here," said Greyback, pointing at Luna. "Take her back where she belongs."

Stomper looked in and noticed the unauthorized young girl standing feet away from the dangerous prisoner. He immediately portkeyed in and said, "Mistress should be being leaving." He kept a sharp eye on Greyback as he tried to take Luna's hand to lead her to safety.

"I'm fine," protested Luna. "I'll call if I need you."

Stomper didn't argue. In such a situation, he knew just what to do. After a few seconds with a blank stare, he said, "Stomper is being staying with Mistress." He moved to a corner of the cell where he could view everything and everyone.

"I want her out!" ordered Greyback, getting more upset by the second. "She shouldn't be here at all."

"We need to talk," said Luna, retaking her seat. "In private," she added, looking back at Stomper.

"Stomper is being ordered to stay with Mistress until Jumper is being here," replied Stomper.

"Another elf?" asked Greyback. "Why do you need two..." He was distracted as an elf, along with two humans, appeared at the transport icon board near his block of cells.

"Harry!" shouted Greyback. "Get her the hell out of my cell." From the outside, of course, it could only be seen that he was shouting. No sound escaped.

"Luna!" shouted Hermione. "What are you doing in there?" She reached up with her ring and portkeyed into the cell. Harry, who only twenty minutes earlier had cured another werewolf, and ten minutes ago had fallen asleep, was desperately attempting to rouse himself to assist her. Well, that might be a bit of an embellishment. Perhaps he was gathering his strength first.

"Harry!" shouted Hermione, causing both Luna and Greyback to cover their ears. "Wake up!"

Harry, of course, heard nothing. He had managed, though, to fall asleep while leaning against the glass wall. Hermione, realizing the problem, rushed back out to fetch her husband.

"Wake up," she said, jostling Harry.

"Huh?" asked Harry, looking at Hermione's angered face. He wondered what he could have done to infuriate her so.

"Greyback," said Hermione. "Luna's in the cell with Greyback." She turned his head and pointed.

"Luna?" asked Harry. "Why did you... zzz." Whap.

"Come on," ordered Hermione, pulling Harry behind her. She popped them both into the cell.

"Hold it right..." mumbled Harry, reaching for the nonexistent wand in his bathrobe's nonexistent pocket. He looked down at his hand in confusion.

"What's going on, here?" asked Hermione, taking charge.

"This girl snuck into my cell," said Greyback, pointing at Luna.

"I came to talk with him," admitted Luna. She looked over as Greyback caught the spontaneously napping Harry before he fell completely over. Hermione helped the prisoner put Harry on his bed; temporarily, they both hoped.

"Now," said Hermione, standing back upright, "if you could just explain why you're here." She addressed the question to Luna.

"I'm not entirely sure," began Luna. "Ever since this afternoon, I've felt that Mr. Greyback needed my help."

'_Mister _Greyback?' thought Greyback. It had been quite some time; perhaps forty years, since anyone had called him Mr. Greyback.

"What sort of help?" asked Hermione. She walked over and took a chair. It wasn't all that easy for her to wake up after such a short nap, either.

"I don't need any help from her," snapped Greyback. He had an inkling about what Luna might have intended to discuss, but he wanted no part of such a conversation; especially in front of other people.

"I wasn't asking you," retorted Hermione, coldly. "I have my suspicions that whatever you did to her this afternoon is responsible for us all being here tonight."

"I didn't do anything to her," restated Greyback. "And I don't want her telling you about..." He trailed off.

"About what?" asked Hermione, looking back and forth between the two of them.

Greyback remained silent. Luna seemed similarly inclined but offered, "I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's really none of your business. If Mr. Greyback doesn't want me to discuss it, I'll have to honor his wishes."

Hermione was watching Luna while she said this but had kept an eye on Greyback. She noticed a perceptible sigh of relief when he heard his privacy was going to be maintained. Talk about having the fires of her curiosity stoked. Still... "I understand," said Hermione. "The specifics are between the two of you. I do need to know why you decided to come so late at night; and with only one elf as a guard."

"Stomper isn't being coming with Mistress Luna," corrected Jumper. "Stomper is being finding Mistress Luna in Prisoner Greyback's cell and is being calling Jumper."

"Bloody hell, Luna," snapped Hermione. "Don't you know what might have happened? What's the matter with you?"

Luna began to cry; not with anger or hopes of sympathy, but out of sadness. Harry and Hermione were two people who she admired greatly. For Hermione to express such condemnation of her actions hurt her deeply.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I'm not really sure at all why I came. After what happened earlier, I, well, _needed_ to talk to him."

"Well, you can just start _needing to talk to him _after telling us when you're going to be doing it," declared Hermione. "And with a full guard."

"I agree, entirely," agreed Greyback. "There's no telling what someone like me might have done."

"Mr. Greyback," said Luna, addressing him directly. "I'll go, for now. Just remember; I've seen you without your armor. Underneath it, _you're_ not someone like you. That's why I came, and it's why I'll be back." She walked over and used her ring to leave the cell. Turning, she waited for Hermione to follow with Harry.

Hermione shook Harry's shoulder. "What?" asked Harry in an irritated, whiney tone.

"It's time to go," said Hermione.

"Go where?" asked Harry, still without opening his eyes.

"Go to bed," replied Hermione. She knew the last cure had been especially hard on her husband but he needed to get up.

"I'm _in_ bed," mumbled Harry and rolled over, clutching the pillow.

"Argh," muttered Hermione, pulling him up and attempting to perform the 'fireman's carry'. It almost worked, as in it didn't. Laying an uncooperative Harry back down, she pondered her options.

"Just let him be," said Greyback. "I've got some reading I can be doing. I'll send him back when he's more up to the trip."

Hermione didn't like that plan, at first. She didn't trust Greyback. Then again, Harry had. He'd handed him a full powered wand. Luna, too, had trusted him. He hadn't harmed her, either. "Alright," she said. "Anytime after midnight should do." She pointed silently at Stomper, and then a chair. Stomper understood and sat down.

"Goodnight," said Greyback, leaning back in his recliner and pulling up the foot rest. A stack of magazines lay on the table next to him and he began to leaf through them.

"Goodnight," said Hermione, unpleased at the situation but assured that Stomper would be sufficient protection. She paused to kiss Harry good night and followed after Luna. What she didn't consider, though, was how profound an impact her decision to let Harry take a nap would be on undoing the damage that had been inflicted on Greyback that afternoon.

His eyes scanned the article but he learned nothing about wand care. His mind only held one thought; 'I'm _not _a monster'.

* * *

Later that night, around one-thirty.

"Reparo." Nothing. "Reparo." Nothing. "Reparo." Crink. A tiny bit of movement along the edge of the bell. "Reparo." Nothing. "Reparo." Click. A solder connection reattached itself. "Reparo." Nothing.

Harry watched for a bit as Greyback worked. He had slowly awoken and wondered where he was. Once he figured that part out, he wondered why he was here. Having never fully awoken, he had no memory of the previous night's encounter.

"Excuse me," said Harry, tentatively, "but could you tell me why I'm here?" He sat up.

Greyback twirled around, attempting to hide the ruined trumpet. "Oh," said Greyback. "You didn't seem inclined to wake up last night, so the Missus let you kip here for awhile."

"I see," said Harry who still had no idea how he had ended up in the cell. "Well, ah, that was nice of her, I guess." He stood up, realizing that he was wearing just his boxers with a bathrobe. He patted himself down and scanned the bed, looking both behind and under it.

"I don't think you brought it," said Greyback. At Harry's look, he added, "Your wand. Hermione brought you down here but must've forgotten your wand."

"I see," said Harry, again. "Ah, did she mention what I did that made her mad at me?" He figured it must have been pretty spectacular.

"Not specifically," said Greyback, concluding that Harry had no idea of the previous episode. He did know one of Hermione's points of annoyance concerning her husband, though. "Something about a pun, I think. Said she'd had enough and all that."

"Oh," said Harry. "I was afraid that might happen, someday. I had a pretty good one at supper. Peeves was chasing the Fat Friar around the Great Hall and Hermione had mentioned how irritating it was to have Peeves running amuck. I corrected her and said he was actually running a _monk_."

Greyback laughed good-naturedly. While he was doing this, Harry looked around and noticed Stomper. "Are you my guard?" he asked, actually half-believing Greyback's story.

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Stomper. Well, he _was_.

"I see," said Harry, for the third time. "Did she say how long I was in for?"

"Stop it, Harry," begged Greyback, laughing harder. Wiping his eyes, he said, "Wake up a bit and figure out that the elf is here to guard you _from me._ You came down last night because of an incident that I'll let your wife explain. Anyway, you must have been bloody well exhausted since she couldn't wake you up. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she just let you sleep here for a while." He smiled at the relieved look on Harry's face. "Better get back to her, Harry."

"I guess I had," replied Harry. He stood to use his ring before asking, "What happened to your trumpet?" The mangled mess lay on the floor in view after Greyback had begun to talk with Harry.

"Oh," said Greyback, holding it up by the bent main tuning slide, "I, ah, dropped it."

"That's too bad," said Harry. "Want me to fix it?" He again reached for his missing wand.

"Well, sure. When you have time," said Greyback. He had estimated at least a week under his own power.

"Reparo isn't that hard of a spell," said Harry. "Let me borrow your wand for a moment."

Greyback didn't think his wand was currently up to the task but handed it, along with the scrap metal, to Harry. Harry examined the wand; sixteen inches and made of birch, before concentrating enough to overcome the one-hundred power attenuator and cast "Reparo" at the trumpet. The result was more complete than anything Greyback could muster but there were still a plethora of dents and kinks left to go around. Three more tries, though, and the instrument looked more or less repaired.

"Give it a try," ordered Harry, handing both the trumpet and the wand back.

Greyback set the wand on the table and flipped the valves while blowing through the mouthpiece. "Sounds good, so far," he said. A quick chromatic run up and down proved that the repairs were adequate, if not perfect.

"Thanks, Harry," said Greyback, sincerely. "I'll try not to 'drop' it, anymore." He gently put his trumpet on its stand.

"You're welcome," said Harry. During the repair, he had realized that a fifty foot cliff wouldn't have been enough of a fall to do that much damage and had reviewed the previous encounter. With a serious tone, he added, "It got a little crazy yesterday. What we saw in your memory really shook up Hermione, you know. Me, too, for that matter. It might take her awhile to get over it."

"I know," said Greyback. "Didn't give it much thought at the time. Just the ways things were, you know. Now..." He lowered his head in thought; not really knowing what else to say.

"One day at a time," said Harry, encouragingly. He then had a thought. "Well, I'm bummed out. How about playing us both a tune before I head off. Make sure everything's fixed up. Cheer us up a bit, too."

Greyback smiled. "Got just the one," he said, digging excitedly through the pile. "Sort of an oxymoron of a title, though." He hung the record on the holder and opened up the sheet music to 'Trumpeter's Lullaby'. Greyback played while Harry watched and listened. At the end, Harry asked, "How can you get so many notes with only three buttons?"

"Practice," said Greyback. He then went into a more detailed discussion culminating in Harry repeatably attempting, but failing, to produce even one recognizable sound. By three o'clock, both men were tired enough to call it a night. Harry went back to Hermione, but Greyback lay awake until breakfast. He didn't want to face her brand of magic, but he began to understand that, like it or not, he needed to speak with Luna Lovegood.

* * *

November 21st, 1997

An Early Breakfast at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

"Sorry," replied Mad-eye. "Promised my nephew I'd buy him a broom for his eleventh birthday. Planned it for weeks." He pulled over some more bacon.

"Can't you put that off for some other day?" asked Tonks.

"Why don't you put off the _raid_ for another day," countered Mad-eye.

"Saturdays are the best," said Tonks. "The tours start late and there wouldn't be any muggle trouble."

"So?" asked Arthur. "Wait another week. Kinksley would be back and we'd have another week to plan."

"Wish I could," said Tonks. "The Minister's dead set on ending that operation first thing tomorrow morning. Said he has a hunch, or something."

"You'd better go ahead and end it, then," said Mad-eye. "Never waste a good hunch. Still don't see why I'd need to be involved. They don't need my help for something that simple."

"No," agreed Tonks, "they don't. But I do. Rufus agreed to pull a team from Manchester just for the raid so that they won't know when the Death Eaters that are captured don't make it back to the Ministry, but an Order auror needs to be in charge. Kingsley's in Australia with Blair, so that leaves just me." The upward pitch on the final 'me' expressed her lack of confidence."

"You'll do just fine" said Remus, putting his arm around her shoulders. "You've been on raids like this dozens of time."

"But never in charge," protested Tonks. "You know how I am. I'll knock over a broom or step on their toes or do _something _that will get everyone killed."

"Maybe we can have a few of us nearby," suggested Mundungus, between bites of ham. "You know; just in case." He had slipped in unnoticed during the discussion and had begun to nonchalantly start his meal.

"That's not a bad idea," agreed Molly. "I can't say I'd fault you for being nervous; the other aurors being strangers and all. A few of us that wouldn't be recognized might be able to help out, in a pinch."

"That's the problem, though," said Arthur. "We'd be strangers. If things got hot and we all came in blazing away, there's a good chance the other aurors would think we were attacking _them_ and fight back. Someone could get killed in the confusion."

"So we're back to why you're the best man for the job, then," concluded Tonks. She took Mad-eye's hand and said, "Please. I mean, this is the Queen, after all." Mundungus's ears perked up and he stopped chewing.

"I'll tell you what," said Mad-eye. "I'll do you a favor and stay as far away as I can." Tonks slumped her shoulders. Mad-eye continued in a stern voice. "I've been on more than one operation with you and you've come a long way. You're completely; well, make that mostly competent. You're also in charge. It's time for you to step up, and you won't do that with me looking over your shoulder."

Tonks still looked more than a bit unsure of herself. "You'll do just fine," promised Remus. "They won't know you're coming and won't be ready. Besides the other aurors, a few of the elves will be there, too. They're specifically to transport the prisoners but they're pretty good in a fight, if necessary."

"You're right," said Tonks, sipping her coffee. "I'm just nervous. I'm sure everything will work out just fine."

At the far end of the table, Mundungous also sipped his coffee. To himself, though, he thought, "or not."


	107. Chapter 107

Chapter 107 - Blaze of Glory

November 21st, 1997

A little past half past noon in the Great Hall

Honey had spread her student's essays across the table. One stack that was graded; one that was not and one smaller stack that had information in it that sounded close to right but seemed wrong, somehow. She was conscientious enough not to jump to any conclusions, either way, and was holding them until she could check with her technical manuals or, more likely, Hermione. Although finished with the main meal, she had a Weasley on board and so was absentmindedly munching on a stack of chicken strips while she graded. She had the room to work since she normally ate with Ron, Hermione and Harry. They were not there, today. Neither was Neville, Dean, Seamus or Lavender. Several of the other seventh year students from other houses were also missing. Apparently, Defense had run long, despite already being a double class today.

Ginny, having more or less finished her official preparations for Transfiguration and wishing to wait for her boyfriend, had taken to her hobby of looking through the book for some sort of obscure point with which to confuse her sister-in-law.

Luna was the one with the uncharacteristically impatient look on her face. She had wanted to stop at the library before class, but had also wanted to talk briefly with Harry and Hermione. Although they were normally a few minutes or so late for meals, the minutes had passed quickly until there wouldn't be sufficient time left to make it to the library even if they showed up immediately.

As luck would have it, she had no more than thought this thought than she, along with half of the hall, heard a loudly complaining Hermione coming around the corner into the Great Hall.

"...won't be enough time. How am I going to maintain my grades if I can't re-double check my notes before class?" She stormed down the aisle as the rest of the upperclassmen rushed to their tables to grab a bite to eat. The distinct scents of burnt cotton and hair followed them. Last through the door was a thoroughly disheveled Hammer Coldiron, rubbing his finger across the remains of the left side of his mustache.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, following behind her. For those keeping score, it was the one-hundred-ninety-seventh apology he'd made in the last forty-nine minutes. He was flanked by Ron who, although unhurt, sported a nasty black patch on his borrowed carpet.

"Stop saying that," ordered Dean. "We've got the picture, Harry. It was an accident."

"Just don't be surprised if fifty people skive off classes the next time you catch a cold," added Seamus, laughing. He had some serious rips along the sleeve of his robes but seemed to have eventually found the cause of their delay funny. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had also come to terms with whatever had happened, but the Slytherins made a point to pull their wands and set them next to their plates; at the ready. Hammer took his seat but had to rise almost immediately. After a brief conference with McGonagall, he returned to an abridged dinner while she rolled her eyes and had a laugh with Poppy and Pomona, who had unabashedly listened in.

* * *

Whatever the cause of the delay, within five minutes, Harry was deeply involved with his lunch. It wasn't the sort of borderline emotional affair that Ron flirted with three times a day, but it was fairly obsessive. After his interrupted sleep from last night, he had blown off breakfast in favor of additional bed time after this morning's werewolf's cure. Waking just before his first class, he hadn't had time for so much as a biscuit. With 'The Incident' at Double Defense causing them all to run late, Harry was famished.

"What time will we be leaving, tomorrow?" asked Luna, finally deciding to ask now as opposed to waiting for supper. Harry had, as she had expected, not noticed due to his current frenzy. Hermione was the most likely respondent, but she, too, seemed to be consumed by her writing as much as the food was being consumed by her husband.

"Are you going somewhere?" asked Honey, making a note on the essay she was grading. She held a piece of chicken in her off hand as she wrote as she, as was previously stated, was eating for two, but had retained the ability to juggle the conflicting activities enough to carry on a polite conversation, as well.

"Yes," replied Luna. "We're going to talk to Daddy, tomorrow."

Ginny set down the romance novel she had been working on and asked, "What's up?" Neville had taken the brunt of the trouble, of course, and by the time she had fixed him up, she wasn't interested in serious study, even to annoy Honey.

"Oh," began Luna, unsure of how much to reveal in semi-public, "Daddy's probably going to be starting a new job in a bit and, well, we wanted to talk to him about increasing his protection." She had whispered the last part so as not to be overheard.

Ginny remembered she was a witch and cast the Muffliato spell. "There," she said, putting away her wand. "Now we can talk."

"He's taking over as editor for the Daily Prophet," said Luna. Despite assurances of protection from Harry, she still looked quite worried.

"That ought to make for interesting news coverage," quipped Neville.

"I agree," said Luna, totally missing the point of the comment. "It's been quite a while since Daddy did that sort of news, but he was pretty good at it, from what I've seen of early copies of the Quibbler. I think Mr. Hidendesk probably remembered that when he offered Daddy the job."

"Mr. Hidendesk," repeated Ron. "Is that the name of the publisher?" He had a few spare seconds since he'd already finished his third helping and was still deciding on desert. His years of training had paid off.

"Yes," said Luna. "He used to come to dinner quite a bit before..." She trailed off, sadly.

"That's unusual, isn't it?" asked Harry, finally starting to reach his limit. "I mean, wouldn't competitors naturally avoid each other socially?"

"Oh, Harry," chided Luna, perking up from her recent thoughts, "that's silly. People in the newspaper trade interact with each other all the time, professionally. They're competitive enough to keep one another on form, but don't take anything personally. After the workday is done, they often go out for dinner, drinks or whatever."

"I didn't know that," said Harry, glancing at Hermione to see if she seemed as surprised as he. She hadn't heard any of this, it appeared. Her head was down as she wrote on her parchment. Checking on the subject, he noted that there wasn't any sort of title.

"What are you working on?" he asked. She had been complaining about not having time to study for class, but he couldn't see any tell-tale indications of the subject, such as a list of ingredients for Potions or standard wand movement symbols for Charms.

"Hmm?" asked Hermione, not stopping.

"I wondered what you're working on," repeated Harry.

"Oh," said Hermione. "I thought that it might be nice to stop at the public library on Diagon Alley while we're there. There's a few things that might be useful that I can't find in either the school's or my library."

"That's hard to believe," said Harry. "You have thousands of books in your case."

"I know," said Hermione. "In general, I can find what I want, but a few small points, here and there, seem to be left out."

"Like what?" asked Ginny.

"Well," said Hermione, checking the parchment for a quick, yet representative, example, "let's see. Vampires, I guess. We might have to deal with them in the future, if they side with Voldemort, so I wanted to be up to date on defenses."

"That's easy," said Ron. "Remus told us all about them. They don't like sunlight. You can hold them off with a cross. What else?"

"They don't like garlic," added Honey. "They can turn into bats. They can't see themselves in mirrors." She thought a second before adding, "I wonder how they manage to look so well groomed, then." Everyone thought about this for a second.

"I've no idea," said Hermione, finally. "Another thing that we don't know, though, is what you would need for a Jewish vampire. Would a cross still be good or would you need a Star of David?" Again, they all paused.

"Well, I suppose you'd better look that up, then," agreed Harry.

"Which still leaves my original question," said Luna. "What time are we leaving?"

"We told the women nine o'clock," answered Hermione. "Meet us in their courtyard just before then and we'll all go together."

"Okay," said Luna. "I sent Daddy a letter yesterday afternoon, but I didn't get an owl back, yet. Are your plans flexible enough to work around whatever time he has free?"

"More or less," said Harry. "I don't think we have to be anywhere at any particular time. It'd probably be best if we saw him earlier in the day so that we can do our errands before I drop Hermione off at the library and head on over to our house for a nap or something."

"Very funny," said Hermione. "You can forget the nap, though. You're coming to the library with me. You can have half of my list and we'll get done twice as fast."

"Twice as fast?" asked three incredulous voices.

"Well, faster, at any rate," amended Hermione. Even that assessment was dubious. Both Hermione's and Harry's abilities at research were legendary, but not for the same reason.

"At least you'll be able to keep your eye on him," said Ginny. "Beyond that, I wouldn't hope for much."

"Hmm," hummed Hermione, noncommittally.

"I used to spend a lot of time at the library when I was little," commented Luna. "Maybe I could help."

"Why thank you, Luna," said Hermione, smiling at the thoughtful gesture. "That would be a big help."

"I'm surprised you two aren't going with them," said Ginny, to her brother and sister-in-law. "From the look of the list, the more, the merrier."

"I have quidditch practice," said Ron, "and Honey has some professor stuff to do."

Honey rolled her eyes at the poor choice of words before having her memory jogged. "That reminds me. Hermione?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Hermione, finishing her last note before looking across the table.

"Could you check and see if you have a copy of Glandershein's Third Order Transfigurations?" asked Honey. "I couldn't find mine and both of the ones from the library are checked out."

"Sure," said Hermione, slipping her bookcase out of her bag and setting it on the table. She opened the door and almost immediately pulled out the requested volume. "Here you go. It's about halfway through chapter seven."

"What's halfway through chapter seven?" asked Honey, slowly opening the book.

"The section on the moisture modifiers necessary when performing dual mode transfigurations on primates," replied Hermione. "I think I have a bookmark at the page you're looking for." Honey just looked at her.

"Why else would you need that book?" asked Hermione. "We're working on monkeys next week so I was doing some preliminary checking on foreseeable problems. Naturally, Glandershein's was my first choice. That's why it was on my active shelf." She pointed at her bookcase.

Honey stared a moment longer before beginning to turn to the indicated chapter. "Thanks," she mumbled, blushing slightly.

"Oh, don't tell me you're not used to that by now," exclaimed Ginny. She, along with about half of the people within the confines of the Muffliato spell, laughed.

"I probably should be, I suppose," allowed Honey. "Sometimes the magnitude of her powers still catches me by surprise. It's a bit disconcerting; that's all."

"I disagree," said Hermione. "You handed out the syllabus the first week of class so we both knew what was coming up. Since this is your first year teaching, you probably hadn't needed to get into too much detail on that subject before now. Nevertheless, you saw the same potential problems that I did. You also knew where to find the solution. The only thing you didn't have that I did was the book." She reached across the table and touched Honey's hand. "You're fun to tease, Honey, but you really are good at transfigurations. You almost never bugger up your lessons anymore."

"Thanks, I guess," said Honey, wondering just which classes she had 'buggered up'. She decided to wait for a more private moment to ask.

"So what other errands do you have?" asked Neville. He hadn't continued on with Transfiguration and wanted to return the conversation to the more interesting topic.

"Oh," said Hermione, "not many, really. We have a little shopping to do as long as we're there and then we have to stop by the Sarus jewelry store and pick up my ring. It's supposed to be done by tomorrow."

"A _jewelry store_?" asked Ginny, suggestively.

"Yes," said Harry. "They're having a big sale, too. Retiring, you see."

"A big retirement sale, you say," repeated Ginny. "I'll bet they have some good deals on _engagement rings_." She turned and looked up at Neville.

"Not a chance," said Neville, eliciting a round of laughter at Ginny's expense. She didn't seem too upset.

"That's okay," said Ginny. "Rushing into things has had mixed results, so far. It's worked out okay for Harry and Hermione, but not so much for Honey."

Ron hadn't been active in the last part of the conversation but had kept up enough to have his sensors detect a hit. "Hey," he exclaimed, looking miffed.

"Don't listen to her, Ron," said Honey. "I'm happy enough, I suppose."

"What a ringing endorsement," quipped Ginny. Again, a round of laughter, this time with Ron picking up the tab.

The last laugh, though, was on all of them. With a flash, the plates and leftover food all disappeared. Simultaneously, the chimes sounded, indicating the start of afternoon classes.

"Bloody hell," said Honey as everyone started to quickly gather their things. "I'm late for class. Why didn't anyone say anything?" The hall had managed to empty out without their detection.

"They didn't notice us," explained Hermione, grabbing her bookcase, parchment, ink and quills and jamming them quickly into her bag. "That Muffliato spell made us all but invisible."

"More likely," offered Ron, "they didn't want to startle Harry."

"Winky," shouted Harry as Neville sprinted out the door towards the greenhouses. He'd never before been late for Herbology. If he knew what Harry had in mind, he would have stayed.

"What is Master being needing?" asked Winky as Honey began to climb behind Ron.

"Hold it, Ron," shouted Harry. "You two have Transfiguration now, right?" he asked of the two sixth year girls.

"That's right," said Luna, the lone calm presence in the area.

"Winky," commanded Harry. "Take Hermione to her class while I take these three to the Transfiguration classroom." Winky reached up for Hermione's hand as the two redheads and the blonde reached around to give Harry a major cluster hug.

"You'd better have that smile off your face the next time I see you," warned Hermione, menacingly.

"No promises, dear," said Harry with an uncontrollable smirk as he popped off.

With a sigh from herself, and a commiserating shrug from Ron, Hermione said, "Greenhouse two, Winky," and before she could think again, they were gone.

* * *

Later that afternoon...

"It never rains, but it pours," said Snape, flinging the letter onto the table. He had just received Parry Caro's letter, via John Mullenix, of course, and had mixed thoughts on the contents. Looking to see who was at hand, he said, "Pinkerton, come here." He looked at his watch while Michael Pinkerton, a youngish man with flaming red hair took the five steps to stand before him. It was just past four.

"Yes, sir," said Pinkerton.

"Go to Diagon Alley," ordered Snape. "Find..." he checked the letter, "find the Sarus Jewelry store. Take a good look around, both outside and in. Talk to the owner. Buy something if you have to but I want him to talk for a bit. Be quick about it and come right back."

Pinkerton looked confused by the odd order but quickly gathered himself and left.

"Messenger," called Snape into the next room. There was always a messenger ready to be sent to his master but he couldn't remember who it was, this afternoon. The first messenger that he had sent this morning, after Mundungus had made his report, hadn't yet returned. Snape quickly scribbled a note under the body of the letter he had just received and handed it to Julius Harkman. "Take this to the Dark Lord at once. Wait for his reply."

"Yes, sir," replied Harkman, pocketing the parchment and heading out the door. Snape followed, but only as far as the main common living area.

"Fetch Rookwood," said Snape, as he walked to a wall lined with maps. Two men, deciding they were the ones given the order, left. Looking at a map of Diagon Alley and the surrounding area on the wall, Snape quickly found the section that was indicated in the letter as being near the jewelry story. He'd be able to pinpoint the location later, but for now, this would do. There were two nearby alleys that might serve as marshaling areas.

"What's up, Sev?" asked Rookwood, entering the room. He walked over to join Snape by the map.

"What isn't,?" replied Snape, rhetorically. "I think we might have to rethink our plans for Windsor Castle, tomorrow, Augie. Our new spy at Hogwarts has just sent word that will allow an attack on Potter and his mudblood."

"You have some hard information on where they'll be tomorrow?" asked Rookwood, surprised. He was one of the sharper Death Eaters.

"Not only that," said Snape, "but they'll have limited forces. Probably just two or three of those infernal elves. We'll never have a better chance."

"A golden opportunity," agreed Rookwood. "You should send her a cookie." He smirked. Snape's obsession with chocolate chip cookies was the inspiration for most of the humor at headquarters. If current trends continued, though, his ever increasing girth could very well take the lead.

"Very funny," said Snape, not laughing heartily. "In any event, it means that our plans for the aurors will have to go by the wayside."

Rookwood wasn't convinced. "Don't you think we could handle both operations? I've been briefing my men on..."

"Possibly," interrupted Snape, impatiently. "It just isn't worth dividing our forces, such as they are, and placing the success of the Potter attack in jeopardy. We don't have much to gain there, in any event. We've already learned about as much as possible. Losing the observation room won't have much of an effect. Just cancel further visits."

After a few moments of reflection, Rookwood said, "That might compromise Dung." Snape considered this. "You're probably right," he conceded. "Find someone we can afford to lose and send them for the morning run. Be sure to remove any important information first."

"Sure. Have you notified the Dark Lord?" asked Rookwood.

"Of course," said Snape. "For the time being, I'm assuming that he'll wish to proceed against Potter."

"Been brushing up on your divination, I see," replied Rookwood, with a smirk.

"I'll leave that to the experts," replied Snape with a grin of his own. "That reminds me; I'll need someone to close the door on apparition. Who's your _best man_?"

"You know," said Augie, "it's pretty depressing being in charge of the cannon fodder."

"If this doesn't go well," said Snape, "we could all be in that category. Pick whoever you like; or don't like, as the case may be, and instruct them. I need to plan this out."

"Okay," said Rookwood, turning to leave. "I'd consider waiting until he's inside, if that would be an option. Make it less likely he'd turn dragon on us."

"I've already considered that," lied Snape. "I'll get with you later to discuss the specifics." With a last glance at the map, he also left the room.

* * *

An hour past supper, in Tuscany.

"Tomorrow morning?" asked Voldemort, rhetorically. "That doesn't give us much time." He turned to Harkman and said, "Have Snape plan an attack, of course. Tell him that we'll proceed as if this is a legitimate lead, but to have contingency plans in place in case it's some sort of clever trap. Specifically, if a large number of elves or dragons appear, I want to be able to withdraw without significant casualties." It wasn't noticed by the Dark Lord, or his top-shelf minions, for that matter, but his regular troops had noticed the precipitous drop in the 'We will crush him and all he holds dear' sort of talk when discussing Harry Potter. Voldemort now treated him with the same respect for his abilities as he had Dumbledore.

"Yes, Master," replied Harkman.

"I'll return by morning," added Voldemort. "Have a secure location prepared where I can view the attack. Also, inform Snape that he is _not_ to be involved in the actual battle."

"Yes, Lord," answered Harkman, wondering if he should start writing some of this down.

"Let's see," said Voldemort, pacing as he decided on how to next micro-manage the attack. "No more than twenty regulars should be used. He can use as many of the_ others_ that he wants."

"Of course, Master," replied Harkman, now searching his robes for a quill. In the back of his mind, he wondered what was meant by 'regulars' and 'others'.

"That's all," said Voldemort, correctly interpreting the body language.

"Yes, sir," responded Harkman. He left to begin the two-and-a-half hour trip back to England.

"Richards," called Voldemort.

"Coming, Lord," sang Richards, rushing into the room from the kitchens, just down the hall. He was wearing a frilly, pink and yellow apron.

Voldemort closed his eyes and said, "I'll be leaving for the compound in Millbrex within two hours. Have ten of my guards prepare to accompany me. Also, notify the two brothers that they will also be going."

"Yes, Master," replied Richards. "Will I be returning, as well?"

"Not just yet," answered Voldemort. He thought about it and added, "Prepare this place for hibernation. I'll be staying in England for at least a few months, one way or the other. I'd like it left in a fit condition to return with only a day's notice, though."

"Of course, Lord," said Richards, unconsciously twirling his hair as he thought about how to proceed.

"That's all," said Voldemort. "I leave at nine o'clock."

Richards left. Voldemort looked out the window towards the sun, now low in the horizon over the ancient mountaintops. 'Tomorrow,' he thought. One way or the other, tomorrow would help him choose the direction he wished to take.

* * *

Saturday, November 22, 1997

"Okay, ladies," said Harry. "If you'd just step over here for a moment." He gestured towards the inside wall of the Leaky Cauldron. They had flooed in to ensure a more discreet arrival at Diagon Alley. When everyone, children included, had complied, he went on.

"Now," he explained, quietly, "you can't see them, but each family has a house-elf assigned to protect them. Hermione, Luna and I have two more. Besides them, we're also being tracked by others; don't worry about how. They can tell where we are and will notice if anyone is following us. Finally, another team of elves is ready to apparate in if any of the hidden elves with us should call for help."

"It sounds like you're expecting trouble," said Linda Neywand, a portly forty-something witch standing with her two children.

"The more we expect and plan for it," explained Hermione, "the less we seem to have. We're just trying to be ready."

"If it's so dangerous, should we be splitting up?" asked Marie Helt. She had three children with her but her daughter, Candy, being nine, was able to control one of her two younger brothers, giving her mother just enough of an edge to handle the lot of them.

"It's probably better, at least for you, if we _do_ split up," said Harry. "Hermione and I would be the prime targets in any attack."

"That's right," agreed Hermione. "We'll leave first, with Luna. Wait just a minute or so and then you should be able to do your shopping. Any Death Eaters out there will have followed us."

"How long do we have?" asked Linda.

"We were thinking that we should leave by one o'clock this afternoon," answered Hermione. "Meet us in the library around then."

"That should be plenty of time," commented Marie, looking at her watch. "Too much, really." Her children didn't have much of a track record with successfully remaining well behaved in public.

"You can always have your elf take you back," said Harry. "Or, you could have a nice lunch in one of the restaurants." He, too, looked at his watch. They should get a move on.

"Speaking of the elves," said Linda, "how will we know if they're nearby? I mean, well, I don't know what I mean." She looked it, too.

"They'll be there," assured Harry. "I know you can't see them and they're nearly silent, but don't worry. If anything comes up, they can handle it."

"I certainly hope so," replied Linda, still expressing her concern with her mannerisms.

"Okay," said Hermione, moving away before another question could be proposed. "We'll see you at one o'clock at the library." She led Harry, Luna and their guard out to the back of the pub and tapped the required bricks of the entranceway. In a few moments, they were on their way.

* * *

Unseen, by the trio, at least, a cloaked figure noted their passing. Devon Humphrey was one of many fairly competent Death Eaters assigned throughout the Diagon Alley area to watch for the arrival of Harry Potter and his party. As soon as they had left, he turned further into his alcove to pen a short note. Upon being tapped by his wand, the parchment folded itself into a paper airplane. One more tap and it shimmered almost out of existence before heading through a nearby window. He then tried to surreptitiously follow behind, but someone else, namely Pounder, had recognized Humphrey from the memories in the pensieve. With an invisible tug on Marie's dress, he whispered for her to wait a few minutes. With her nod, he left the group in the care of Windy.

Humphrey stepped through the back door of the Leaky Cauldron and pulled his wand to do a bit of tapping. He reached up and touched the first brick, but suddenly found he couldn't move on to the second. He was petrified. With a swish, his wand leapt from his hand. A blink later, and he was in the kitchens of Hogwarts, although he didn't recognize it as such. A few dozen house-elves silently surrounded him, but said nothing. He felt a small hand grab his but didn't notice the match to that hand invisibly touch a special decoration in the shape of a snowflake near an oven. He did notice the pulling at the pit of his stomach and realized he was being portkeyed away to Heaven knows where.

The new area was white as ice, not surprisingly, and held several of his former comrades behind sheets of glass. Feeling himself rising, he floated next to one of the strange, small rooms. A very short portkey later and he was looking out of that very same little room. A few moments passed before his arm finally came down.

"Where am I?" he asked of the air, rushing against the glass. His captor, though, had already left.

* * *

At Windsor Castle, in the gardener's shed.

Lanny Palowsie bent over the map. It was a bit hard to read due to both its well-worn and ragged condition and the plethora of water and wine stains on its surface. Lanny might have thought it odd that after being given such an important assignment, they would have seemingly gone well out of their way to ensure he had their oldest and least functional map. He didn't consider that, though. He also didn't consider why he, himself, was chosen. In a way, he and the map had the common characteristic of being the most expendable resource available for this particular task.

Once settled into the rough chair in the shed, he laid flat both the map and a blank parchment onto the table. As unseen eyes watched, he activated the map and began to note every name he saw.

"There is being only one bad wizard, Mistress Tonks," said Millie. "He is being writing many names."

"Just one?" asked Tonks. "That's odd." She turned to her borrowed team from Manchester and explained. "We've observed them for quite a while, now, and they've always sent two men."

"Maybe one of them is running late," suggested Auror Anne Barney, an athletic, yet older veteran more familiar with Muggle fraud cases than criminal espionage.

"Running late?" asked her longtime partner and mentor, Gordon Himple. He was nearing retirement age and had developed a good sense of probability where it concerned the criminal mind. "I'm sure any partner would have apparated along at the same time." He addressed Tonks. "How many of these, ah, excursions did you say you've observed?"

"We have records of over seventy," replied Tonks. "Since we've known what they were doing, maybe just a couple dozen or so."

"And they always had at least two people," restated Gordon. He looked back and forth between Millie and Tonks.

"That's right," said Tonks. "So you're saying that it's unlikely that they changed their pattern for no reason." She knew it was a rhetorical question and pondered the possibilities.

"Absolutely," agreed Gordon. "For the moment, I suggest that we have your elves continue as they're doing. Get some more info; wait for the other bloke; whatever. However, I'd warn, uh, the other one..."

"Tripper," provided Tonks.

"Tripper," repeated Gordon, nodding. "I'd warn Tripper to be ready to pop out at the first sign of trouble. If they did find out that we were coming today, they might just have this blighter as bait and wait to nab the lot of us when we go to make the arrest."

"Oh, dear," said Tonks. "Do you think that's likely?" She personally felt that it was unlikely, but her insecurity about buggering up her first command had her second and third guessing almost everything.

"Not overwhelmingly so," reassured Gordon, who had worked long enough with junior and less experienced officers to know how to properly instruct them. "It's just a fairly good possibility. I'd say maybe a twenty percent chance; that's all."

"Okay, then," said Tonks, momentarily confused as to what to do next. "Let's see. Ah, Millie. Tell Tripper to be aware of... " She trailed off, looking to Gordon for a suggestion.

"He should be aware that this could be some sort of a trap and that if others show up, in force, he should get himself out of there," said Gordon. Like many Aurors nearing retirement age, he wondered how 'the kids' would get along without them. Since that type of pondering has been going on for a millennia or so, it could be assumed that things always find a way to work themselves out.

* * *

In a room above the owlry, facing down Diagon Alley.

Lord Voldemort sat in his chair, peering out the temporarily magically enlarged and enhanced picture window towards the Sarus Jewelry Store. In reality, it was almost a half mile to the establishment, but the magnification spell placed on the glass made it appear to be just across the street.

"Not so fast," said Voldemort, summoning Dinky to return with the platter she was levitating above her head. When she returned, he took off three more of the miniature sandwiches she had made for morning tea. She then ambled around the room, allowing those who so chose to help themselves.

"Master; a message," said Jerry Burns, opening an unaltered, but functioning, side window. Within a few seconds, a shimmering, nearly imperceptible paper airplane, not unlike the ones used at the Ministry, apart from the disillusionment spell, came souring through the opening. Burns caught it as it passed and quickly read it. "Potter just left the Leaky Cauldron. He's with two women. One's his wife and the other one's unknown to Humphrey."

"Excellent," exclaimed Voldemort. "Alert the men to be ready." He was speaking to Snape, of course.

Snape didn't respond, but instead touched a silver dagger with his wand. Identical weapons in the possession of the trusted leaders of the two groups hiding in the alleys as well as one slipped behind the belt of the poor sod chosen to initiate the attack on Potter, all vibrated once. That was the warning to stand ready. When two vibrations came, Potter would be near.

"I do not understand," said Michel in his annoying French accent. "He is but a man, is he not? Two women will hardly add to his force. Why do you need so many men hiding like rabbits?"

"I agree," agreed Camille. "It is like you expect zis child to be able to withstand a smaller number of your so-called men."

Again, there was disharmony among the Death Eaters due to the musings of the French brothers. Amid the rumblings, Voldemort had a brilliant idea to put them in their places, if they survived.

"Maybe you're right," he said, momentarily adding to the sinking morale. "It would be foolish to waste this opportunity with less than my _best_ men involved. I think that, just to be safe, the two of you should join the strike teams. " He turned to Rookwood. "Take them down without delay. One with each group. That should improve our chances." His face remained expressionless while many of his senior advisors smirked.

"Of course, Master," said Rookwood. "This way, gentlemen." He indicated the exit before leading the way briskly to the stairs. Having managed to remain with his master in the observatory for the attack, he wanted to hurry and get back before Potter arrived. With arrogant struts, Michel and Camille followed.

Snape watched them leave without commenting. He began to turn back to the window when he caught Voldemort's eye. Pausing to see if his boss would say anything, he then continued on to examine the street below. Voldemort walked over to stand next to his lieutenant.

"Something the matter, Severus?" he asked, also looking out.

Snape paused, not wishing to lie, and said, "I was just curious as to why you're sending such prized new men on such a dangerous mission."

"Two reasons," replied Voldemort, unaccustomed as he was to giving explanations for anything. "They are arrogant and boastful gits when it comes to their fighting ability. If they are as good as they think they are, we might have a better chance of winning. If not, they will be brought down a notch or two."

"Very clever," said Snape. "So even a loss could be a win, if they learn their lesson."

"Exactly," said Voldemort. "Or even if they don't," he mused, sitting down to wait for the show to begin.

* * *

At the other end of Diagon Alley, at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"You're not getting a Firebolt, so just put that thought out of your head," chided Mad-eye, trying to calm down his nephew.

"Oh, please," asked the young boy. "It's by far the best, Uncle Al."

"Of course it is," responded Mad-eye. "But I'm not about to spring for that kind of money, no matter what you might prefer." He stepped over to the used rack of assorted Cleansweeps.

His nephew, having just turned eleven two days earlier, was not ready to concede defeat just yet. By virtue of being the youngest child of Mad-eye's youngest sibling, there was a good sixty years between their ages. That put Mad-eye more in the doting grandfather category than a beneficent uncle. Young Furcle might have to work his way up to it, but his weeks of broom research and study should return some results. He knew the pluses and minuses of almost every broom made. By starting with Uncle Al's first choice, he felt he could make some complimentary remarks, but then point out a minor defect that would lead them up a step. Only a few galleons more, you see. The process would then be repeated; ideally to the level of the aforementioned Firebolt.

"This one isn't bad at all," said Mad-eye, holding up a Cleansweep Four. "Smooth finish; most of the bristles are in good shape. This'd be a good starter broom."

"Oh, it looks just fine, Uncle Al," said Furcle, trying to look interested. "The Four was known for its acceleration." He smiled a bit more before frowning and asking, "But didn't it tend to stall when making steep climbs?"

"Hmm," said Mad-eye, thinking. "That does ring a bell, now that you mention it."

"Maybe a Nimbus," suggested Furcle, leading Mad-eye towards the slightly more expensive Nimbus 1990's. "They're nearly the same price." The game was on.

* * *

Back with Harry and the girls.

"Here you are, Luna," said Hermione, tearing off the bottom half of her list. "We'll be back as soon as we finish our shopping. It shouldn't take more than an hour." They were in the foyer of the Diagon Alley Public Library.

"I remember," said Luna. "Don't worry if it goes longer than you think. Daddy said it was okay for me to come a little early and visit. If I'm not here, I'll be at the Daily Prophet. That's just down the street."

"I'm pretty sure we'll make our 11 o'clock appointment," said Harry. "We're only picking up a few things."

"Okay," said Luna, beginning to turn away. "I'll see you..."

"Mathias, Granger," interrupted a tall, bespectacled man with slightly graying hair.

"Mathias, Saul," replied Hermione. "Although, I should point out that my name is Potter, now." She extended her hand and her older friend took it briefly.

"It seems that I read that somewhere," said Saul. They both laughed.

"This is my husband, Harry, and our friend, Luna Lovegood," said Hermione, making introductions.

"Pleased to meet you," said Harry, shooing away an errant bee before shaking Saul's hand. Luna was also properly received.

"Harry and Luna," said Hermione, finishing her task, "this is my old friend, Saul."

"Just Saul?" asked Harry, confused.

"It's an old joke between us," explained Hermione. "I spent a lot of time here during my first few summers off, you see, and when we first met, I couldn't pronounce his last name..."

"...and I couldn't pronounce her first," finished Saul. "You see, until about ten years ago, I lived in Wales."

"Like Jonah?" asked Harry.

Whack!

"Thanks, Luna," said Hermione, who was out of position.

"Well," continued Saul, a bit disturbed by the random act of violence, "I ended up just calling Hermione 'Granger', and she just called me Saul."

"Hermione couldn't pronounce your last name?" asked Harry. He took another swipe at his personal flying tormenter.

"It's a little hard without a Welsh accent," said Saul. "It's Witowsmp."

"That is..." said Harry, trying twice more to swat the bee, "a bit... unusual."

"Having difficulties, oh Great Seeker?" asked Hermione, mockingly. Compared to a snitch, a simple bee should be easy.

"A bit," said Harry. "It must be some kind of wonderbee, or I'd have hit it by now."

"It's a good thing you didn't," said Luna. "You could have gotten hives."

Whack!

"What the bloody hell are you doing, you daft Sheila?" asked a blustery Australian with his hand to his chin.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," apologized Hermione, rushing to help. "I was aiming for my friend." She indicated Luna.

"Aiming for..." began the man, at a loss to respond to the odd statement.

"Now calm yourself, Brad," said a shapely woman next to him. "She just made a blue."

"You calm _yourself_, Rosiline," said Brad. "She smacks me in the head and I can't even give her a gobful?"

"There's no reason to get mad, Brad," replied Rosiline, leading Brad off.

"That poor man," said Luna, watching as Brad and Rosiline found a bench to sit on.

"I'd better let you go, too," said Saul. "I'm supposed to meet Cassandra at the Leaky Cauldron for tea."

"Say hi for me," said Hermione as Saul left.

"Got it," said Harry, triumphantly. He indicated the stunned bee on the floor. "Once I picked up the pattern, I could predict its flight path."

"Yes," said Hermione, "I noticed that it kept going back to the Fibonacci series whenever it could."

"The whatinacci series?" asked Harry.

"Fibonacci series," repeated Hermione. "It means that the bee's spiraling out. A lot of things in nature are related to it. Now let's see; how does that formula go, again?" She stopped talking to give it her full attention.

"Why don't you ask the library witch?" asked Luna, pointing at the strikingly voluptuous thirty-something brunette behind the check-out desk.

"Yowser!" exclaimed Harry before he could stop himself. "If all librarians looked like her, I'd be a reader for life."

"You shouldn't be reacting like that in public," scolded Luna. "It's embarrassing."

"You're embarrassed?" asked Hermione. "If anyone should be embarrassed, it's me."

"It's I," corrected a smart-alix as she walked by.

"It's I; it's me. It's Hermione Potter," said Hermione. "Put your eyeballs back in their sockets, Harry, and let's go."

Harry wrested his gaze from the older woman and left with his wife to begin their shopping.

* * *

Back in the owlry, a short time later.

"What in the world could be taking them so long?" asked Voldemort, rhetorically. It had been almost forty-five minutes since their initial report.

"I don't know," replied Snape. "At the very least, we should have received an update from Humphrey." He didn't make the connection, but his boss did.

"Where is Humphrey?" asked the Dark Lord, tiredly. Had this plan also gone by the wayside?

"A moment, Lord," said Snape, pulling out the charm. He tapped it and uttered Humphrey's name. A few seconds later and he had his answer.

"Captured, it seems," he said, tossing down his wand and the locator onto a nearby table.

"Great," muttered Voldemort. "Just great." Did Potter leave with Humphrey? Was he using Veritaserum right now and learning their plan in detail?

"Rookwood," he called.

"Yes, Master," said Rookwood. It was seldom fortunate to be the first one summoned when the Dark Lord had received bad news.

"Work your way back down Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron," ordered Voldemort. "Find out if Potter is even coming. Take Hoover with you. Check the shops on both sides as quickly as you can and return with any news."

"Yes, Lord," said Rookwood, signaling for Zac Hoover to join him.

"Prepare to leave," ordered Voldemort under his breath.

"Of course," whispered back Snape. He, like his master, realized that a hundred elves could be converging on their position this very moment.

Before anything could be set in motion, Rookwood and Hoover came dashing back up the stairs and into the room. "He's just next door," shouted Rookwood, panting heavily as Hoover rushed to the unaltered front window. He pushed his face tight against the glass and peered down.

"They're walking by right now, Master," said Hoover. "Potter's carrying two packages and the mudblood has one. She's leading the way.

"Shall I signal the men?" asked Snape. He had the silver dagger already in hand.

"Not yet," ordered Voldemort. "When they get within a hundred yards of the jewelry story, then we'll send the alert. That could take another five hours at the rate they're progressing." He sat back in his chair and continued to work the crossword in the Daily Prophet.

* * *

As it turned out, Harry and Hermione only intended one more stop before heading back to meet Linus and Luna for their meeting.

"I'd quit complaining if I were you," warned Hermione. "Ask any of your female friends and they'll all tell you that the phrases 'buying shoes' and 'under an hour' are seldom found together where women are concerned."

"Believe me, I know," said Harry. He hadn't yet been able to block the memory of their shopping trip for her wedding supplies from his mind. "I appreciate the fact that you literally flew through the store. All I said was that perhaps you should have waited until you could have gone alone; or perhaps with another woman." He repositioned his two packages under his right arm.

"I'll have to remember that for next time," said Hermione. "Winter's coming up, after all." She was in front so she didn't notice Harry falter for a second while looking at a box. The question was on his lips, but he declined to ask when she was planning on wearing the three pairs of shoes they had just bought if not this winter. It was only a month away, after all.

After a bit, Harry said, "Since you're with me, maybe you can help me pick out your next charm." It had been awhile, but he had managed to get her something for her charm bracelet every time he had visited Diagon Alley; either voluntarily or otherwise, since his first hearing on apparition licenses.

"I think I'd like that," she said, surprising Harry. "This is probably our last trip to the Sarus' store, after all. Maybe we could get something to commemorate how nice they've been to us." She looked at her bracelet. "Maybe we could give the dragons a rest, this time." She already had two, after all.

"We can try," said Harry. "To be fair, we should pick something off the shelf. It would be counterproductive to have something custom made when they're trying to unload their inventory."

"I wondered about that," said Hermione. "You'd think they'd try to sell the store, inventory and all. Why just shutter the doors?"

"Jim told me that they've lived above their shop for almost a century," explained Harry. "They don't feel like moving."

"Fair enough," said Hermione. She reached over and took his free hand with hers. "Do you think we'll be as happy as they are a century from now?"

"I don't know," said Harry, honestly. "That's a pretty high bar to meet." He looked at her slightly disgruntled face and added, "I'd like to give it a go, if you don't mind." He reached down and gave her a quick kiss.

They continued for a hundred feet more before noticing how busy the jewelry store was. "Must be having a heck of a sale," said Harry, trying to see if there were any specific signs.

"I'll say," said Hermione. "Look at the bags those women are carrying." Four very happy women were carrying out several bags each, filled with small boxes. They listened in as they passed.

"Can you imagine?" asked the first, short, plump woman with long, gray hair. "A necklace like this for only thirty galleons. I paid a hundred for one half as long just last year."

"I'll say," agreed her tall, skinny friend. "It might help explain why they're able to retire. Such a markup. I had no idea these earrings were so inexpensive."

"I've been buying there since I was a little girl," chimed in the third. "They must have a fortune stashed away, somewhere."

"Couldn't tell from looking at them," offered the fourth. "I don't think I've ever known Jim or Ruby to take more than a week off a year."

"Well, good for them to finally retire, then," rejoined the first woman. "Let them enjoy life for awhile."

"You're lucky I have enough jewelry, Potter," said Hermione. "It sounds like we'd be stocking up."

"I'll leave that up to you," said Harry, holding the door open for her. Two more smiling women walked through before Harry and Hermione had their chance.

The store was packed. The shelves were all but empty. Ruby was talking to a customer but Jim was nowhere to be seen. "Hello, Ruby," called Hermione, waving. She didn't want to intrude but hoped she'd call Jim up front to bring them her ring.

"That's not..." began Harry, narrowing his eyes at Ruby as a cloaked man sitting in the corner pulled out two marbles from his pockets.

"Harry Potter," said Jumper, but it was too late. With a click, the balls were brought together and the goblin anti-apparition ward came down harder than the unfortunate soul in the corner.

"Hermione!" shouted Harry, dropping his boxes in a rush to pull his wand. "RUN!"

Behind him, two Death Eaters had taken aim but were slammed against the wall by unseen elves. Ruby had also produced a wand and took aim while Harry's back was turned. A pulse of orange glowed briefly on the tip before shooting a small, crackling ball across the room at Harry.

"Look out!" shouted Hermione, pushing Harry out of its path. The orange demon hit Hermione in the chest and caused her skeleton to show through her skin before bursting out her back and splattering blood and bone across the entire side wall. With nary a whimper, Hermione collapsed to the floor.

THOOM! Everyone and everything in the store, Death Eaters, innocent bystanders, cabinets, furniture; anything not nailed down and a few things that were, were thrust against the wall opposite their former positions and Harry Potter. Without regard to the niceties, he Reductoed Ruby, the two men who had been stunned by Jumper and Flower and two more men he had noticed pulling their wands before the battle. The obvious shoppers he had left untouched, but three others that could have gone either way, he just stunned. He fell down by his gasping wife. Her blood was pouring out in huge spurts. He felt the tears starting to well up, but before he could do anything, another elvish blast hit the doorway.

"There are many others, Harry Potter," shouted Jumper. He had thrown off the invisibility cloak, as had Flower, to better move and react. Through the now broken windows, Harry could see what looked like dozens of shimmering shapes taking aim. After a quick, deep breath, he blew a stream of fire in their general direction. Not being a dragon, it had little real effect but it caused the disillusioned Death Eaters to momentarily pull back.

Screaming like mad women, the shoppers still conscious and inside the store made a dash for it. One was hit and killed by a Death Eater, but the rest made it to safety as their identities were recognized outside. The attackers were keeping their powder dry for Harry.

With the threat of dragon fire, or lack of it, now recognized and delineated, the groups from the alleys formed an arc across the front of the wrecked store. A hail of spells came crashing in. Harry had cast some general protection spells, of course, and Jumper and Flower had done the same. Still, the constant barrage required the continuation of effort and Harry needed to help Hermione, if he could.

Not having time for tears, he put his hand on her chest; specifically where her right breast used to be, and sent a pulse of his love and life to the love of his life and did the best he could. The major blood vessels were cauterized and her bleeding slowed significantly.

"We need to get her out of here," said Harry, needlessly. He was trying to fight with his right arm while resting his left on his beloved. God help the Death Eaters if he felt her breathing stop.

"Help is being coming, Harry Potter," replied Jumper. "They is being having to pop a long ways away." Of course, the elves couldn't come in very close; just like the last time.

"We need..." began Harry before a powerful blast shattered his shield. He fell backwards from the concussion but managed, just, to hold onto his wand.

"Incendio!" he shouted, aiming blindly over his feet. From the resultant screams, someone was hit, it seemed. He used the lull to erect a stronger shield.

"Jumper," said Harry. He looked where Jumper had been and saw Flower doing her best.

"Jumper is being dead, Harry Potter," shouted Flower, obviously overwhelmed both magically and emotionally.

Harry was momentarily stunned by the news and a few opportunistic, but inexperienced Death Eaters took the chance to rush the storefront. Their charred bodies never made it past the sidewalk.

Another blast hit the side of the building, partially collapsing it. Covering Hermione with his body, a few larger planks and bricks hit Harry. He was knocked backwards over his bent knees and was forced to resort to expending all of his magic on the shield surrounding them. Spells flew in from all directions, now, with only Flower's weak abilities to stop them. Then, that too, came to an end.

It was just Harry, now. He had to use his left hand, covered in Hermione's blood, to cast wide field Bludgeoning spells while channeling his life energy into his slowly collapsing shield. He could push them back, but from his current position, he couldn't really see what he was doing. It was only a matter of time.

Just as he was about to stop the onslaught and place his hand back over Hermione's heart, he heard something unexpected. Screams of pain and terror; not from those citizens witnessing the attack, but from the Death Eaters. Blast after blast rocked the ground. The fire on his shield lessened and then, briefly stopped.

"You're all clear, kid!" shouted Mad-eye, flying low on his third pass. Blasting away, with a wand in each hand, he wasn't bothered by the disillusionment of the men due to his magic eye. "Send them all to Hell!"

With a laugh, he tore down on the scattering men again. There were too many, though, that had found their target. Three beams found their mark and, with a sickening thud, he hit the ground.

Victorious, the Death Eaters returned their attention to Potter. It was too late. With a blast from the past, the front rank fell in pieces while those behind suffered numerous serious wounds. Erecting their own shields, now, they attempted to resume the attack. From behind them, though, Harry saw a carpet with a red-headed man coming in at a suicidal speed. As he slowed, a dozen red-robed figures jumped down and began laying waste to the remaining Death Eaters. Already having their orders for just such an eventuality, the survivors portkeyed off, taking many of the wounded with them.

"Harry!" shouted Ron. "We came as..."

"Turn that thing around!" shouted Harry, running towards Ron with Hermione in his arms. Jumping on the back of the carpet, he said, "Go! Any direction. As fast as you can. Need to clear this field."

Ron was shocked at the sight of Hermione but did as he was commanded. With Harry holding on to his belt, he sped away.

"How bad?" shouted Ron over the ever increasing wind. Hermione's blood had soaked her entire robes.

"Very!" shouted Harry. "Have to get her to St. Mungo's." After a few more seconds at a hundred miles per hour, he shouted, "We're clear!" and apparated away.

Author's Note: For those of you wondering what the point was with the scene in the library, it was an homage to some of my loyal reviewers.

Dad


	108. Chapter 108

Chapter 108 - Seven Minutes

November 22, 1997

"HELP!" shouted Harry. He was cradling Hermione as the two of them lay on the floor. "We need help! NOW!" His voice expressed perfectly the level of panic that was welling up within him. He was holding his whole world in his arms and was terrified that it was slipping away. "HURRY!"

It had been all of twelve seconds since his arrival, but to Harry, it was an eternity.

"Dear Lord!" exclaimed the receptionist. She had signaled to another floor to send a team to the lobby and had then left her desk to make a preliminary assessment. In her entire life, she had never seen someone as injured as Hermione who was still breathing, however sporadically.

"We need healers," stated Harry, not knowing that they were on their way, already. Hermione was gasping for air and her bleeding had seemed to pick up some steam. It was impossible to tell, just by observing her, whether or not she was conscious. "Please call someone."

"They're coming," explained the middle-aged witch. "It'll be just a minute."

"She doesn't _have_ a minute," sobbed Harry. He wept; his emotions unleashed by the shock of saying out loud what he had been thinking. In his current state, it took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn't doing all that he could for Hermione. Pulling her closer, he let his tears run onto, and into, her chest. The burnt and torn wounds churned and sizzled; trying to heal. Harry was comforted for a bit as some areas began to look better and a few of the outlying chunks of flesh resealed themselves. The major wound, though, had little change. Harry didn't understand why, of course. Seeing the lack of success, his desperation pushed him firmly into the realm of panic. When the first healers finally arrived, he didn't want to let them take over. He had healed so many people that he just couldn't accept that he could do no more for his own wife.

"Let me through. Please step back," requested Healer Lisa Sealy, working her way through the light crowd and kneeling down next to Hermione. "I need to... Oh, my God." She was momentarily shocked into inaction at the sight of the wound.

"We need to get her into the Main Healing Room," said the more experienced Healer Otto Jurgussen after a quick look. Turning to the receptionist, he ordered, "Contact Dr. Lorian. We might need to transfer her to St. George's. Tell him to expect major chest cavity trauma."

"Yes, sir," said the witch, running to grab her list of emergency muggle contacts. She was specially trained to use the telephone located in a nearby room.

"Do you know what the spell was that did this?" asked Healer Sealy, having controlled herself.

"I don't know," said Harry. "It was orange. My back was turned and she pushed..." He broke down, again, having just made the connection that Hermione might be dying because she had saved his life.

"Orange," repeated Healer Jurgussen, thinking. "Did it make a sound?"

"Uh, I..." began Harry. "I don't think so." He was panicking, again, as he was having so much trouble giving useful information.

Two wizards came in with a floating stretcher and Harry immediately helped place Hermione onto it. As soon as they had done this, she started to retch blood. Shortly thereafter, her eyes opened in terror as a horrible gurgling sound indicated that her breathing might be compromised.

"Anapneo," cast Healer Sealy, clearing her throat. Hermione's breathing, although still very intermittent, sounded a bit better, despite the whistling coming from the stump of her missing right lung. Her eyes closed again as she calmed. "She's lost so much blood. Check her type," said the healer to one of her assistants that had shown up. "Hermione Potter. She was here a couple of months ago." The crowd, which had instinctively moved back to allow plenty of room, broke out in quiet murmurs. With such a pale complexion and major injury, no one had recognized the semi-famous witch.

"I'm type O," offered Harry, remembering that his blood was good for most people. "She can have all she needs." They could drain him dry, for all he cared.

"We'll keep that in mind, Mr. Potter," said Healer Jurgussen, reassuringly, as he rose from Hermione's side. "Let's go." He jogged ahead of the wizards guiding the stretcher while the small troupe, with Harry by Hermione the whole way, quickly made their way through the swinging doors and eventually into the Main Healing Room.

As they moved Hermione from the stretcher onto the healing table, she was jarred back into consciousness. After a gurgling groan, she half opened an eye and began to try to form some words. "Hah... hahie," she said, softly and almost inaudibly while trying to look around. She couldn't build up much pressure to pass over her vocal cords and it didn't sound much like her normal voice, but it was as beautiful as the singing of angels to Harry.

"Hermione," said Harry, moving in front of her and taking her hand. She squeezed it.

Unable to fully open her eyes, she nevertheless looked into his and smiled. "Ya oh ka," she got out with difficulty.

"Yes," said Harry, smiling brightly. "You'll be okay, too." He forced himself not to look as the healers tried to remove some of the remnants of her clothes from around the wound.

"Mr. Potter," said Healer Jurgussen. "We have to begin at once." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, trying to guide him out.

"You're going to be just fine," said Harry, looking into his wife's beautiful brown eyes. "They're going to fix you right up." His tears fell freely as he said this, but hearing her voice caused his heart to rise in a new hope that it might be true.

"Eh off you," groaned out Hermione, closing her eyes to concentrate on her speech.

"I love you, too," replied Harry. "I..."

"Please," said Healer Sealy, taking Harry by the arm. "We have to work."

"I have to go, now," said Harry to Hermione. "I'll be near." He wiped her brow once more before preparing to leave.

"Hawie," said Hermione, opening her eyes once more. She knew this could very well be goodbye. What would her last words be to her husband? She realized that if she died, it would be because she wanted him to live. Given that she knew that the secret to his power was also the path to any future happiness, the words she needed to say came to her with perfect clarity. With a very serious, yet loving expression, she held onto his hand a bit tighter. Using up her remaining strength, but knowing she had to spell it out for him, she said, "Don ba lone. Fine somwan ta loff."

"But I love _you_," cried Harry, breaking down, again, as Hermione's grip faded and her hand fell onto the table.

Healer Jurgussen gently guided Harry to the door as several more healers and assistants brushed by, carrying specialized supplies and equipment into the room. He said, "Please wait in the waiting room. Someone will come if... if anything changes." He moved Harry into the hall and closed the door.

Harry had never felt more useless in his life. He tried to wait outside the door, but it became evident after the fifth or sixth person entered or exited the room at a run, that he was just in the way. He had fought a fifty foot snake. He had been chased by giant spiders. He had been in several battles with Death Eaters who wanted nothing more than to kill him. Hell, he had even fought Voldemort; twice. But he had never known fear; truly felt it, until now. His heart dragging on the floor behind him, he made his way into the waiting room.

* * *

"Miss Tonks," said Millie, alarmed. "Jumper is being saying that many bad wizards is being attacking Harry Potter."

"Harry?" exclaimed Tonks. "Where?" She stooped down to hear better.

"They is being at a store, Miss Tonks," replied Millie. "We is being needing to be helping."

"Of course we are," said Tonks. "Get Trip..." Pop. Tripper was before them.

"Pop us to Harry," said Tonks, taking Millie's hand and indicating the other aurors should do the same to Tripper.

"Jumper is being saying we is being needing to be popping near, Miss Tonks," said Millie. "Be taking Millie's hand, Miss Tonks." Tonks had let go and stood up to pull out her Auror's badge.

"It's a distress signal," said Tonks.

"From Moody," added Gordon, examining his own badge. "Somewhere on Diagon Alley, if I had to guess."

"I'll bet Mad-eye's in the thick of it," said Tonks, her exasperation mixed with admiration. "Grab hold of someone," she commanded of the elves. "Our badges will guide us to Moody."

Tripper and Millie, having conflicting orders, went with the one from Tonks since she was not only a human, but an auror as well. They each took a hand of one of her companions and, for perhaps the first time in their lives, they let a _human_ pop _them_.

When the small group arrived, they were all surprised that Mad-eye wasn't anywhere to be found. Both elves immediately began running down the sidewalk. The aurors, though, quickly scanned the area, revealing the presence of a young boy in a very distressed state holding something very tightly in his hands.

"You there," said Gordon, taking charge. "What's going..."

Boom! Far off, they heard an explosion.

"Who are you?" asked Furcle, becoming more skittish by the second. Two more blasts echoed down the alley.

"We're aurors," answered Tonks. She had come close enough to see that the child clutched an Inspector's badge. "Where's Mad-eye?" she asked, recognizing the dents and tarnish at once.

"He... he went that way," stuttered out the boy, pointing down the street. "He pulled me off the broom and... and tossed me this and said to press the wands as hard as I could and not let go."

The explosions were increasing in frequency, now, so Gordon said, "Keep pushing it." Turning to the shop owner, he added, "We're aurors. We need to borrow these." Without another word, he pulled three brooms off the exterior display racks and tossed one to each of the women. They sped off just as more aurors began to arrive.

* * *

"Ahhh," groaned Scrimgeour as he rolled to the ground. Like a cat, albeit an aged and arthritic one, he spun quickly around with his wand pointing in all directions before making it to his feet in a smooth transition. This was supposed to be standard procedure when responding to a distress call. You never knew whether you'd be apparating into a combat zone. With Mad-eye being the one in distress, you could almost count on it.

Pop! Jack Dawlish was suddenly next to Rufus. After his own quick look around, sans the tumbling exercise, he commanded, "Stop running off like that." Paul O'Nesti and Ian Franklin soon joined them.

"We're the first ones here?" asked Rufus, ignoring Jack's obsession with keeping him out of battles.

"Three others just left," said Furcle, recognizing the Minister of Magic. "The went that way to help Uncle Al; towards the booms."

All four men, as if suddenly aware of the powerful, yet distant, explosions, peered down the street as far as they could. Due to the twists and turns of Diagon Alley, they couldn't directly see the battlefield, but the smoke and dust was visible to a fair extent.

"Come on," ordered Rufus, twirling around to apparate closer. When it didn't work, he was thrown off by his bad leg to the point of nearly recreating his entrance. Paul caught him just as the next group of aurors showed up.

"Apparation isn't working past here," said Jack, taking his rightful place as senior _active duty _auror present. "We'll go down on foot." He led the way at a brisk trot.

"The other blokes rode on brooms," called Mike Pommeral, the owner of the shop. He didn't go chasing after them, though. He was already four brooms down and needed to keep some inventory on display.

Approximately sixty yards into the marathon, one decidedly older than he thought ex-auror, having already been far outmatched by the rest of his group, plopped his butt onto the nearest public bench for a breather. He did his best to try to see what was going on, but still had no luck on that front. He did notice that the blasts had stopped. Some faint shouts or screams could still be heard, but whatever the disturbance, it was nearing its end.

Some of the people walking in front of him stopped and raised their arms to point at something. Rufus stood up to take a look for himself and had about two seconds for recognition before his own flying carpet flew overhead in a blue streak. Something small and wet hit him in the face as it passed. Instinctively putting his hand to his cheek, he found his finger coated with a small amount of what could only be blood. He quickly looked up just in time to see two prone figures disappear from the back and Ron Weasley veering off shortly afterwards, heading to the North.

"What the bloody hell's happened?" muttered Rufus as he turned to continue on in his original direction with more urgency.

* * *

Petunia hummed one of the tunes that her mother had hummed, so many years ago, while she had worked in _her_ garden. The song brought back some of her happiest memories of when she was just a small child; chasing butterflies, blowing the seeds off dandelions, or just running around while her mother happily toiled away. Winky had been working quite normally with her all morning, as usual. They had been enjoying another fairly warm day with the greenhouse windows open, letting in some fresh air. Winky was up on the shelves, watering some of the cuttings they had planted a week or so ago while Petunia was upgrading the accommodations of the azaleas. Then, without warning, Winky had dropped the watering can and looked up, obviously distressed.

"Mistress is hurt," she cried and jumped to the floor. She was about to pop straight to her when she remembered a direct order. "Master said to be not being coming unless Master calls!" screamed Winky, running in circles in the greenhouse. She was knocking over many of the potted plants that she and Petunia had been nurturing for weeks, but neither took notice.

"What's happened?" shouted Petunia, trying to break through Winky's panic.

"Mistress is being hurt," repeated Winky. "Mistress is being hurt bad." She held her head in her hands.

"Well, go and help her," ordered Petunia, worriedly.

"Master ordered!" shouted Winky.

"Well, I'll overrule that order," said Petunia, standing up to her full height. "If Harry has a problem with that, he can just talk to me."

Winky knew that didn't make any difference, but beggars can't be choosers. She immediately tried to pop to Harry and Hermione, but it didn't work. "I can't be being popping," she cried, becoming even more frantic. "Jumper is being there. He is calling all elves to be coming to be helping. Winky is being coming, Master!" She tried again; and again; and yet again. It wasn't working. "Winky is coming, Master," she repeated but with great exhaustion. Again, she tried to pop to Harry, but still she failed. With one last great surge, she put all of her strength into it and gave it her best shot for a full seven seconds. With a final whimper of "Master," she fell to the floor of the greenhouse, unconscious.

"Oh, my goodness!" said Petunia. "What to do. What to do." She didn't know what to do. Before she could think of anything, she was joined by someone who, coincidentally enough, also didn't know what to do.

"Aunt Winky!" shouted an extremely distraught Slinky. "Mistress is being hurt. What is we being doing?" She was shaking Winky as if she thought she was merely napping.

"I don't know," said Petunia. "Winky tried to go help her but she couldn't." She looked through the windows, trying to see if anyone more knowledgeable was about. The area was apparently deserted. Then it hit her.

"Slinky," she said in a sharp voice, trying to get the young elf to calm herself. "Have Karl bring Vernon here, right away."

"Who is being Karl, Mistress Petunia?" asked Slinky. She didn't know anyone by that name.

"Oh, I mean Kreacher," corrected Petunia. "Have him bring Vernon here."

"Yes, Mistress," replied Slinky. A few moments later and...

"Ahhrgghh," groaned Vernon as he stumbled four steps forward before catching himself on one of the sturdier shelf units. He had an adjustable wrench in his right hand and it had been extended to the maximum distance he could reach when he had arrived. That hadn't been the problem, though. He was standing on one foot, leaning over a large table when, from his perspective, both the nut he was tightening and the table itself, disappeared. He had been the one doing the disappearing, but the end result was the same.

"Karl!" he shouted at the elf standing off to the side. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?"

"Hermione's been badly injured and Winky's hurt herself trying to go to her," interrupted Petunia, quickly.

"What?" asked Vernon.

"Hermione's hurt," repeated Petunia. "She's been attacked or something."

"I got that part," said Vernon. "How did Winky manage to hurt herself by just trying to go help her?"

"I don't know," replied Petunia. "She tried and tried, but it didn't work. Then she collapsed." She indicated the small elf lying on the floor. Slinky was using a rag dampened with the watering can to wipe her brow.

"Karl," said Vernon. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Karl is being knowing that Master's mudblood is being hurt, Vernon," replied Kreacher, dispassionately. "Karl is being knowing that the elves that is being with Master is being dead. Karl is being knowing that other elves is being trying to be going to Master but they isn't being able to be being doing it."

"Where is Harry right now?" asked Petunia. 'Besides in serious trouble," she thought to herself.

"Master is being at a store on Diagon Alley, Petunia," replied Kreacher.

"And nobody can go to him," stated Vernon, rubbing his chin in thought.

"That is being right, Vernon," confirmed Kreacher.

"Vernon," asked Petunia, "what can we do?" She had a worried look in her eye that in past years wouldn't have been there.

"I don't know," answered Vernon. "I'm trying to think of who would."

"Karl," said Petunia, picking up the still unconscious Winky. "Take us to the Headmistress of this school."

"Brilliant," said Vernon, grabbing hold of her hand. Slinky reached up and tried to take hold of Vernon's other hand but it was much too large for her. He noticed her, though, and silently put out just one finger for her to hold.

"Yes, Petunia," said Kreacher, having received a direct order. He held on to Petunia, and with a massive pop, the strange group was gone.

* * *

Ron, after about ten seconds, realized that the entrance to St. Mungo's was in Muggle London. He couldn't fly there so he almost called for an elf to take him before realizing that he didn't even know if the battle was over. Leaving that option on the table, and with St. Mungo's being warded against apparition, he decided to floo in. Pulling around, he headed back to Diagon Alley. His original destination was the public floo in the Leaky Cauldron but he came across an even better choice.

"Fred! George!" he shouted, flying right through the door of their shop. The startled customers and sales staff stopped what they had been doing to look at the odd sight. This didn't bother Ron, of course. Scanning the sales floor, he spotted Fred talking to some older witches by the love potions.

"Get back here, Fred," he called, heading towards the privacy of the back room. Passing through the swinging doors, his voice rang out through the silent store. "George! Where the bloody hell are you?"

Fred quickly excused himself from the ladies and ran through the stunned shoppers to find his youngest brother.

"What's all the..." began George, looking up from the box he had been packing.

"Hermione's been hurt," blurted out Ron. "I need to use your floo." He took a breath to calm himself.

"It's right over there," pointed Fred, wondering why Ron had suddenly forgotten this fact.

"I need to get to St. Mungo's. You two need to tell the right people," continued Ron, trying to think. "Mum and Dad'll want to know. Honey and Ginny, too. We also need to find Hermione's parents; fast. They're the most important. Who knows where they live?" He looked around to see if he had any takers.

"I've no idea," said Fred.

"Why the rush?" asked George, nevertheless taking off his scarlet work robes.

Ron reached back and placed a hand on the carpet and held it up. It was soaked in blood. "We need to get her parents to St. Mungo's while... while there's... still time." He was producing a fair amount of tears by now, but he couldn't lose it entirely until he made it to Harry's side.

"Maybe Mum'll know," said George, striding over to the floo and grabbing some powder off the mantle. "Fred. Take Ron and find Harry. He's in no shape to floo right now. We'd never figure out where he ended up. I'll tell Mum, Dad and the others and meet you there." Without another wasted moment, he flung in the powder and was gone.

"If Mum doesn't know where Hermione's folks live, we'll figure something else out," continued Fred, putting his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Just leave it to us."

* * *

Voldemort stood in front of the window with his men on either side. Normally, he would have expected, and received, plenty of privacy and extra room. In this case, however, he had neither, but that didn't even register with him. He had just watched with hopeful anticipation as his principal foe had walked seemingly obliviously into a major trap. There was no sound, unfortunately, due not so much to the greater-than-it-appeared distance, which had been magically compensated for by the special magnification spells placed on the enlarged window; but by the lack of thought given to the same problem in the audible dimension. When they realized that they couldn't hear, it was too late to do anything about it. All there was to hear now, of course, were the wails of the dying that had been left behind.

"Gather up everything and prepare to leave," said the Dark Lord, quietly. His minions, expecting something a bit more vocal and temper dependent, were momentarily at a loss as to what to do. Then the training kicked in and they prepared to transport the items they had brought with them. Their master's chair; their supply of potions and other remedies that might have been needed if the battle had been less of a rout; the assortment of treats and beverages that Dinky had prepared. None of them considered just leaving those behind.

While his men tended to the mundane, Voldemort considered the entire encounter. They had him. They _had_ him! After the initial explosion of wood and glass, the battle, as best as they could tell while viewed silently and from afar, had gone their way. Minimal losses; no outside interference; no auror problems since a large number of them were out of the country with Blair and still more were sidetracked to Windsor Castle. Even the French brothers were behaving exceptionally. Michel nearly collapsed the building on Potter with one of his blasts. Camille also attacked unrelentingly with great power. Perhaps he could put up with their attitude more than he thought.

Quickly; indeed far quicker than he would have thought possible, the returning fire from the ruins of the storefront petered out. His men were closing in with victory firmly in their grasp. From what he could see, the barrage was merciless and Potter's death mere seconds away.

And then... who should fly in but that damned Moody, buggering up everything. How many times had the old codger done that to him? A dozen, at least. Still, his death was one of the bright spots of the day, despite having lost the battle. The wealth of experience, knowledge and power that was removed from Potter's arsenal was almost worth the loss of so many men.

"We're ready, my lord," said Snape, resuming his position to the Dark Lord's right.

"Very well," said Voldemort. "We'll return." He then had another thought. "I'd like to move headquarters. Let's see... Ninebanks. We haven't been there for awhile. See to it."

"Yes, Master," replied Snape. "We'll move tomorrow morn..."

"No," interrupted Voldemort, shortly. "Today. By nightfall. Any survivors will be interrogated. I have no interest in repelling a major attack, no matter how poorly it might be planned."

"You suspect..." began Snape.

"I suspect nothing," snapped Voldemort. The men still in the room looked over their way, nervously. In a lower voice, Voldemort said, "I saw the condition of Potter's mudblood. For him to leave the battle so suddenly; without even knowing if it was indeed over, indicates that she was seriously wounded. She might have already been dead. If she dies, he'll be looking for revenge and come after us like never before. We aren't prepared to take on an army of those blasted elves and an enraged Potter. If we'd had more notice, we could have planned for that eventuality and used it to our advantage. As it is, we just need to withdraw in safety." He turned back to look out the window, again. There were currently at least twenty red-robed elves crawling over and around the rubble. Several aurors had joined them, by now. He recognized Dawlish, and knew Tonks by her description, but the others were strangers. They went from one body to another. Twice, while he was watching, some elves were called over. Waving their hands to levitate the person who was lucky enough to be alive, they quickly ran down the alley to the end of the ward before popping to St. Mungo's. There were so many others charred beyond recognition or sufficiently covered with blood that he didn't really recognize too many of those who had left his service the hard way. With a quick, final scan, he turned away and joined his men in portkeying back to their current headquarters.

* * *

Minerva was quickly, but competently, rolling out her sugar cookie dough. She had a fine slab of marble in her kitchen that was for this purpose, and no other. Magnus had cut some sausage on it once; just once. It was, not coincidentally, the day he was nearly dry shaved with a butcher knife. Still, he had loved her cookies and she had loved to spoil him with them. That was years ago, though. Albus had always politely taken one when offered but had usually shown too much restraint when it came to asking for seconds. At least for cookies.

Now she had another connoisseur on her hands. She had originally come back to her cottage to dig out her set of springerle rolling pins. She planned to make some of the special treats for Christmas but still needed to buy some anise and hartshorn before making the attempt. Once she started looking through he cupboards, one thing led to another and, before she knew it, but after a quick trip to the local grocers, she was baking away.

She was working on her third sheet. The second was in the oven and would be ready to come out in a minute or two; the first had come out ten minutes ago and was cooling by her window. This last sheet would be ready as soon as she cut out the shapes. Valentine's Day might be almost three months away, but she didn't care as she used a butter knife to lovingly cut out the heart-shaped kickshaws.

POP! The sudden overly-loud sound and the arrival of several people into her small kitchen almost led to a very mugglish melee. Catching herself just in time, she set her marble rolling pin back onto its holder and asked, breathlessly, "What's the meaning of this?"

"Harry's in trouble," blurted out Petunia, taking a moment to shift Winky to a more sustainable position. "And Hermione's been hurt."

"Hermione?" asked Minerva. "How do you know?"

"Just a few minutes ago," explained Petunia, "Winky became frantic. She started to run around the greenhouse screaming about how Hermione was badly injured. She never said how it happened, but she couldn't go to help her."

"What's happened to her?" asked Minerva, pointing at the unconscious elf.

"She kept trying to go to Hermione until she passed out.

"Jumper," said McGonagall, using her summoning voice. A few seconds passed before an elf appeared. It wasn't Jumper.

"What can Fuzzy be doing for Mistress?" asked Fuzzy. He was an older elf who spent most of his time working in the bakery section of the kitchens.

"Where's Jumper?" asked McGonagall.

"Jumper is being dead, Mistress," replied Fuzzy, sadly.

"Dead?" asked Minerva, shaken.

"Yes, Mistress," replied Fuzzy. "Flower is also being dead."

Minerva put two and two together and asked, "Were they guarding Harry and Hermione?"

"Yes, Mistress," answered Fuzzy.

"Tell me what you know about this," ordered Minerva, finally realizing how to quickly get information from an elf.

"Jumper is being calling for elves to be being coming to help Harry Potter, Mistress," said Fuzzy. "Many bad wizards is being trying to hurt Harry Potter and Mistress Hermione. Mistress Hermione is being hurt bad when the fight is being starting. Jumper is telling elves that elves is not being able to be being popping to Harry Potter. Jumper is telling elves that elves is being needing to be coming from far away. Then Jumper is being dead. Then Flower is being dead. Free elves is being popping to Master Ron and is being going to help."

"Ron?" asked McGonagall. "Did they take him..." She realized she didn't have one important piece of information. "Where is all of this happening?"

"Harry Potter and Mistress Hermione is being at Diagon Alley, Mistress," answered Fuzzy.

"Diagon Alley," repeated McGonagall. "Is anyone left to help Harry and Hermione?"

"Windy and Pounder is being near, Mistress," explained Fuzzy, " but they is being with the widows and children that is being under the protection of Hogwarts."

"So they can't really help," concluded Minerva.

"Isn't there _anything_ anyone can do?" asked Petunia, becoming impatient with the delay.

"Master Ron is being at Diagon Alley with many elves, Mistress," replied Fuzzy as if receiving radio updates. "They is being with Harry Potter soon."

"Take us all to the Minister's home," ordered Minerva, finally deciding on a course of action. "We'll get Rufus and alert any aurors that are there and be on hand if we can help."

"Yes, Mistress," replied Fuzzy. He took a moment to commune with Slinky. With Fuzzy taking the Dursleys and Winky, and Slinky taking McGonagall, they all popped off to Westminster.

About a minute later, Fuzzy popped back into the cottage, pulled the tray of cookies out of the oven and set them to cool by their siblings.

* * *

Ron and Fred flooed into the lobby of St. Mungo's with less than the normal competency level expected of purebloods. Joint floo travel is generally discouraged in the first place. Adding a flying carpet to the mix is begging for trouble. Nevertheless, the quidditch-refined reflexes of both Weasleys helped to prevent a major tumble and they were able to regain control after only the briefest amount of air-time for Fred.

"Where's the receptionist?" asked Fred, looking around. The desk was vacant. This was quite unusual. Even more so, though, was the fact that the other witches and wizards that obviously needed attention didn't seem concerned at the delay. They were all chatting animatedly amongst themselves. Nearby, one woman held her young son calmly in her arms while his skin tone cycled through red, blue, green, yellow and orange with the occasional foray into plaid while she conversed with an older gentleman who was repeatedly enchanting his apparently cursed left hand to prevent it from attempting to strangle him. They were talking about the poor witch who was just brought in so Ron decided to go with the obvious guess on who that witch was and see if they could provide some information.

"Excuse me," he said, interrupting them. "I'm a friend of the witch you're talking about. Do you know where they took her?" He tried to remain calm but was having difficulty with it.

"Harry Potter's wife?" asked the witch, more to confirm what she knew than any other reason. "They took her to a healing room." She pointed at the double doors leading into the interior of the hospital. Since there were several floors, that didn't help that much.

"Where's the receptionist?" repeated Fred. He could sense that Ron was about to attempt to search the whole building and wanted to take the more direct route of asking for directions.

"She had to contact a muggle healer," volunteered a pretty witch standing off to the side. Her hair was growing at the rate of approximately a half inch a minute. She had wrapped it loosely around her shoulders and, judging from the way she was informally styling it, seemed to be coming to the conclusion it was a bit more attractive than she had previously thought. "I'm so sorry for your friend. They're _trying_ to save her, I'm sure, but she was in pretty bad shape. I don't know..." She looked meaningfully at the pool of blood still on the floor.

"We've got to find Harry," said Ron, losing his battle with patience. Before he could act on that, though, the floo port blazed again and out popped someone in even more of a hurry.

"Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness," muttered Molly as she quickly, tearfully and obliviously jogged past two of her sons on the way to the aforementioned double doors. She passed through before either Ron or Fred could fully register her arrival. With a look at each other, they hurried after her.

* * *

The mansion appeared to be deserted. This _never_ happened. The Minister of Magic's official residence was supposed to be a sort of secondary Ministry. In times of trouble or during off hours, it's protections, floo connections and other special features allowed the magical government to roll along without major upset. Now, however, Minerva could only wonder if the attack on Harry wasn't part of something bigger. Just as she was about to suggest they go to the Ministry, itself, the one forgotten occupant that remained, appeared before her.

"Is Mistress being needing anything?" offered Loxley, being proactive since no one else was around to greet her.

"Where is everyone?" asked Minerva.

"Master and many aurors is being going to be helping Auror Moody," answered Loxley.

"Mad-eye?" asked Minerva. "Is he in trouble, too." She looked among the other humans, wondering just how widespread these attacks were that they were hearing about.

"Auror Moody is being dead, Mistress," said Loxley, sadly. As Moody was an old and dear friend of Rufus, Loxley was able to know his fate.

"Is Rufus alive?" asked Minerva, beginning to panic as she feared the worst.

"Master is well," said Loxley.

"Take me to him," abruptly ordered Minerva, not caring if it was safe. She quickly remembered the others with her and said, "We'll be right back. It's safe here and I want to find out what's going on." She pulled her wand before reaching out to take Loxley's hand.

Loxley took it and, with a grunt of effort, informed Minerva, "Loxley is not being able to be being popping to Master, Mistress."

"Don't try again," said Petunia, suddenly. "You'll only hurt yourself, like Winky." She was still holding the unconscious Winky.

"Winky knew everything," said Vernon, stroking his chin. "Would it be safe to wake her?" He addressed this question to Kreacher.

"Winky is being weak, Vernon," said Kreacher, "but Karl is being able to be waking Winky." With a nod from Vernon, Petunia set Winky onto a chair. Kreacher pointed a finger at her and she briefly glowed pink.

Slowly opening her eyes, she looked around for a moment in weakness and confusion. Then, waking fully, she said, "Mistress is being hurt. Winky is being going to..."

"Wait," said Minerva. "Where is she?"

"Mistress is being in the Wizard's hospital, Mistress," answered Winky. "Master is also being there."

"Are they alone," asked Petunia. Petunia, possibly alone among them all, had a fairly accurate idea of what would be going on if Harry and Hermione had made it to a hospital.

"Master is being alone," said Winky, quickly. "Mistress is being with many people."

"Take us to Harry," said Petunia. Turning to the others, she explained, "We know Hermione was badly injured. She's probably being looked after right now and we shouldn't interrupt. If Harry's alone, he's probably alright."

"I tend to agree," said Minerva. Thinking, she said, "Since Hermione's safely in the hospital, I want to check with Rufus and find out what's happened. You can go to Harry. I'll be there as soon as I can."

With agreements all around, they broke into their groups. Winky was still too weak to pop anyone, including herself, so Slinky and Kreacher took over transportation duties for the St. Mungo's group. Loxley suggested that someone should remain at the mansion, so Fuzzy took Minerva. Since the goblin anti-apparition ward was still up at Diagon Alley, they'd have some walking ahead of them.

* * *

Rufus paused his search for clues. Kneeling down, he placed his hand on his old mentor's shoulder. He didn't have all the details, yet, but he had enough to make a guess. The place was crawling with red-robed house-elves. Add to that, that there were almost twenty Death Eaters lying around; most of them dead; many in pieces; he was pretty sure that Harry had been here. At least one person on that flying carpet was bleeding like a stuck pig. He couldn't apparate to this area and, if his guess that Harry was one of the passengers on the carpet was correct, that extra powerful goblin ward he had heard about must be the reason. So the Death Eaters were waiting for Harry. He looked over at the remains of the store. Not much left. So the trap worked. Harry walked in and the Death Eaters got the first shot. Harry couldn't escape and no one could come to his aid. Well, almost no one.

"Congratulations, Alaster," he said. "Just like you wanted. A desperate situation and a final blaze of glory to turn the tide."

"Elf," called someone from deep within the store. Rufus stood up to see who this latest survivor was. With a quick glance back, he moved off to investigate. Mad-eye had told him often enough that the living are more important than the dead, no matter who they were.

"Found two more civilians," said Jack, meeting his boss at the former entrance to the store. "Both of them were tied up in back. One's still alive, for now. An old woman. The man's been dead for a couple of hours, from the look of things."

"Probably the owners," said Rufus. He picked up the remains of a 'Retirement Sale' sign. "Didn't work out for them, did it?" He dropped the sign and glanced over the other covered bodies.

"Nope," said Jack. "It could have been worse, I guess. So far, we have four confirmed civilian dead. There's three more in here that we're checking on. There were two elves off to the side over here, but the others took the remains. Let's see. Also had parts of a man in a woman's robes behind the counter. I'm guessing that he was polyjuiced to look like the old woman."

"No doubt," agreed Rufus. He looked up as Tonks made her way out from the back of the store. Ruby was floating in front of her on a conjured stretcher, crying in grief.

"Good morning, Minister," she said, stepping over the rubble. She transferred Ruby to the care of a pair of elves and turned her attention to Rufus. Ruby said nothing ,but continued to cry through her closed eyelids.

"Tonks," said Rufus in greeting. "What happened at Windsor?"

"Not sure," said Tonks. "The routine was changed. Only one bloke showed up, instead of two. We were discussing why that might be when we got Mad-eye's emergency call. Left right away." She found a relatively clear spot to stand for the follow-up questions.

"Hmm," said Rufus. "Only one Death Eater. Did he still show up on the maps?"

"I'm not sure," said Tonks, realizing that she should be sure. "We had a pair of elves so I never thought... Wait. That's the other thing. Millie knew that Harry was being attacked a few seconds before we got Mad-eye's call." She looked around before asking, "Was Mad-eye hurt? I haven't seen him, yet."

"He's over there," said Rufus, pointing to the body, some thirty yards past the main battlefield. "He didn't make it."

Tonks left without a word and ran over to the body of the old auror.

"Mad-eye'd have her hide for that," said Jack. "In the middle of a report and everything."

"That, and not checking to see what type of a Death Eater he was," said Rufus. "The more info, the better. Had that beat into my head the same as you."

"Yeah," said Jack. He rubbed the back of his head before commenting, "Tonks said that Harry was attacked? Was that here?"

"I think so," said Rufus. "This looks like his work." He then told Jack about the flyover and his suspicions.

"Been a good day for You-Know-Who," said Jack. "Hope it wasn't better than we suspect. Do you think Potter...?"

"We'll know in a bit," said Rufus. He indicated Minerva coming down the street at a trot. He and Jack exited the store to talk with her. Minerva didn't want to talk, though. Literally jumping over the bodies of the Death Eaters, she ran up to Rufus and wrapped her arms around him in a big hug followed by a very passionate kiss.

"Oh, Rufus," she said, hanging onto him as she caught her breath. "I... I'm so... so happy you're safe. So... relieved. So... tired. Haven't run... that far... in... ages." Wheeze. Pant. "We've been hearing just awful things." She kissed him, again, despite needing more air.

"What have you heard?" asked Jack, since Rufus was busy.

"Oh, what haven't we heard?" replied Minerva, looking around. "Hermione's been hurt. We don't know _how_ bad, but it's bad." She led Rufus over to a nearby bench and sat down.

"Hermione?" asked Rufus. "I suppose that makes sense. I saw Ron flying overhead just after we got here, going like a bat out of hell. I was hit in the face by a few drops of blood. Must have been her's."

"I don't know," said Minerva. "I suppose that's the most likely." She paused a moment before continuing. "We heard that Mad-eye was dead. And Jumper and... and another elf." She started to become a bit more emotional as the scope of the losses for the day sank in. "Oh, Rufus. I was so worried about you." She cried as she snuggled up next to him to give him another hug and receive some comfort.

Rufus put his arm around her. "Better carry on, Jack," he said. "I'll check back with you, later. Minerva and I'll head on over to St. Mungo's in a bit and see what's up over there."

"Sure," said Jack. "I'll go finish getting Tonk's report." He walked away as Rufus held onto the woman who had become dear enough to him to be worthy of succeeding his beloved Sally.

* * *

"Maybe we should go back to the lobby and just ask, Mum," suggested Fred. He and Ron had caught up to their mother, but the random, and somewhat repetitive search pattern she was using hadn't yet found either Harry or Hermione.

"They've got to be around here, somewhere," said Molly, looking down the next cross hallway. "This is the floor for spell damage, after all." She ventured about twenty feet further before deciding to double back.

"We don't even know if it _is _spell damage," countered Ron. "It might have been..."

"Over here," interrupted Fred. He was pointing down towards the far end of another corridor. When they all looked, they saw a flurry of activity centered around one room. People were rushing in and out carrying all sorts of potions, scrolls and devices.

"That must be it," said Molly, breaking into a canter. Ron accelerated to keep up just after Fred deftly hopped up behind him.

In just a few seconds, they were all hit with the ever increasing dread of what they might find. Hermione had been seriously wounded, they knew. Could she be restored? Or even saved? Was she gasping out her last breath as they approached? The fear that enveloped them was nearly suffocating in its intensity. It reached its zenith as they passed a small room set aside for friends and relatives to gather.

Nearly unable to stand it, they pushed on only to find that the despair diminished as they approached the healing room. Molly, sensing the cause from years of experience, turned back.

"What is it, Mum?" asked Ron, turning to follow with an equally confused Fred on back.

Molly turned into the room and immediately shouted, "Harry."

Harry was sitting; no, make that kneeling in front of a chair. His breathing was harsh and gasping. The pool of tears on the floor were a testament to his suffering. While Ron and Fred could barely stand to be in the same room with such overwhelming waves of misery, Molly rushed forward and took Harry into her arms. With the power granted all good mothers, muggle and magical, she sat on the floor holding him to her bosom as he cried, and took the pain and suffering onto herself.

* * *

Author's note: The title comes from the amount of story time this chapter takes.

Dad


	109. Chapter 109

Chapter 109 - Suffering Succotash

November 22nd, 1997

Emma Granger drove down the lane towards her house. In the back seat, four bags of groceries rode with her; destined to be used for the next few meals for herself and her husband, Dan. She had planned to use this fine day off to make her husband's favorite dessert; a chocolate lovers fantasy dish consisting of a chocolate cake with a hallow on top in which a quarter inch of fudge is poured. Once cool, the whole thing is covered by chocolate mousse and decorated with a cross work of Napoleon glaze; chocolate, of course. As dentists, this was borderline evil.

As she pulled even with the neighbor's house, she could see she had company. A woman was sitting on her porch swing, although she wasn't swinging. She was dressed in the green robes of what Emma recognized as being the traditional garb of a witch. Turning into her own driveway, the witch raised her head and she knew that she was being visited by Hermione's headmistress.

"Good morning," she said in greeting as she exited her vehicle. "Just give me a second to..." She saw McGonagall's face and felt her blood run cold. The last time this witch had visited, she could tell almost immediately that she bore bad news. From the expression on her face, it would seem that this time would be worse.

"What's happened?" she asked, rushing for the steps. 'Don't say it' she begged in her mind.

"I... I'm afraid I ..." began McGonagall, clearly deeply troubled by her news.

She was stopped when Emma screamed, "No!" She covered her ears and closed her eyes. "No! No! No!" She began to run back towards her car; to drive off and not have to hear. Once she heard, it would become real.

"She's still alive!" shouted McGonagall, chasing after her. She caught up to Emma at the car door. Grabbing her by the wrists, she repeated, "She's alive. She's alive." She waited for Emma to calm down; however marginally.

Emma did take in a breath of relief. It wasn't the news she was expecting. That was good. After a few breaths, she asked, "She's alive?", just to make sure.

"Yes," said McGonagall, "but we have to hurry. Where's your husband?"

"He's at work," said Emma, wondering why they had to hurry.

"He needs to come home," said McGonagall. "Now."

"But you said..." argued Emma, confused.

"I said she was _alive_," said McGonagall. "She's alive and at St. Mungo's. But we have to hurry because... because..." She looked away as the tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Because she's dying?" asked Emma, once again succumbing to panic.

"Because we don't know, yet," said McGonagall, softly and honestly. "Call your husband. We need to get you to your daughter."

* * *

"I'm not arguing," said Harry, talking with Rufus, "but I can't help but feel responsible." Harry's world, which for a time had consisted solely of the waiting room in which he waited and the healing room down the hall, had finally begun to open back up as he dealt with the additional emotional fallout from the deaths of three of his friends. He was being helped by the one person in the room who had experience; too much, in fact; of dealing with the same thing.

"Don't," ordered Rufus. "At least not for Mad-eye. You've known him for a couple of years. I've known him since I was just out of the Academy. If he saw someone in danger and was at hand, he'd rush in and try to help. Did it more than once; a lot more than once. It finally caught up to him."

"Yes," agreed Harry, "but..."

"But what?" asked Rufus. "Maybe you should have had a larger guard? Maybe you should have been expecting an ambush? Maybe you should have stayed home and never gone anywhere? What could you have done differently?"

"I know," said Harry. "I know. It's... I don't know; hard to accept. We lost Jumper and Flower, too. It's a terrible loss, but they were stuck in there just like us. They didn't have the choice. Mad-eye... I don't know if you've ever had the experience; maybe you have; of having someone not only save your life, but die doing it. You can't just..." He froze, his eyes welling up as he had another attack of grief.

"Listen to the Minister, Harry," said Molly, patting him on the back. "Mad-eye would've..."

"It isn't Mad-eye," said Harry, attempting to control himself. "Her... Hermione might've done the same thing, today." This quieted everyone down, again, as their thoughts returned to the witch in the healing room.

After a few minutes, a healer's assistant poked her head into the room before stepping back out of the doorway, but gesturing towards it. George came in, followed by Ginny and Neville, with Honey and Arthur bringing up the rear.

Harry, although glad to have his family and friends around, pushed by them and confronted the unknown young lady. "Excuse me," he said, breathlessly, "but do you know how things are going with Hermione?" He gave her his full attention, as did everyone else.

"I haven't heard," replied the assistant, who upon seeing the disappointment in Harry's eyes, quickly added, "but I'll see what I can find out."

Harry thanked her and returned his attention to the new arrivals. "Thanks for coming," he said, embracing them all; even Neville. "We don't know if... I mean we don't know anything, yet." He backed up to allow them to find some chairs. Honey quickly went to sit between Ron and Petunia while Arthur took the seat next to Molly that Rufus had immediately vacated. Ginny gave Harry another heartfelt hug and whispered, "She'll be alright, Harry. She'll be just fine." She put her head against his chest as she wished with all her heart that it would be so.

"Thanks," said Harry, gently pushing her away. He knew that nothing untoward was meant by her hug other than an offer of comfort and support, but to have your ex-girlfriend giving you such a loving embrace while your wife was fighting for her life seemed... well, wrong.

"What exactly happened?" asked Honey, quietly, with a glance around the room.

"We walked into an ambush," said Harry, harshly. Harsher than he intended to direct at Honey. "I'm... I'm sorry, Honey. It's been a rough day."

"I understand," replied Honey. "We all do. This is just such a shock."

"I know," said Harry. "I know. None of us expected this. It was supposed to be an ordinary day." He thought of something and, looking up, said, "I need a Hogwarts Free Elf here." Five seconds later, his request was granted.

"What can Blinky be being doing for Harry Potter?" asked Blinky.

"Contact Windy and Pounder and have them take their families back to Hogwarts," ordered Harry. "Have someone make sure that Luna is safe, too. She's in the public library."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Blinky. He went into the semi-trance that Harry had witnessed countless times before coming back to rejoin them.

"Winky," said Harry, turning to his own elf who was currently standing behind Petunia. "Where's Emma now?" He had initially wanted to send Winky to bring back Hermione's parents, but was informed that both were in locations occupied by many muggles. Dan was at his office while Emma was in a grocery store. Minerva had volunteered to repeat her earlier mission and retrieve them as soon as possible.

"Mistress Emma is being at her house, Master," replied Winky. "Mistress Minerva is being with her."

"They're probably waiting for Dan," said Harry, thinking. He had dropped into a moment of calmness and wanted to make sure that everything that should be happening, was.

"Blinky," he said, again. "Did we lose any other elves during the battle?"

"No, Harry Potter," replied Blinky. "Klinker and Droopy is being hurt but they is being better, soon."

"That's good," said Harry. "Rufus."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Rufus, snapping to attention. It was an old joke, but it did briefly bring a smile to both of their faces.

"Do you need to have some of the elves provide support to the aurors that I assume are on the scene?" he asked.

"Already doing it," said Rufus. "Tonks was one of the first responders. First _human _responders, that is. She knew a lot of the elves by name and had already begun using them to help the survivors. So far, we have four or five civilian dead with two or three wounded. Could have been worse."

"It shouldn't have happened at all," snapped Harry. "When I find out who was responsible..." He trailed off, grumbling.

"I thought that this Lord Voldihatsis was the one who caused all of this," said Vernon. He hadn't said too much since he and Petunia had arrived; shortly after Molly and her group.

"Voldemort?" asked Harry. "He, or rather his men did the attacking, alright. It's not him that I'm mad at, though."

"You're not..." began Molly.

"I'm mad at him, of course," amended Harry, "but not as mad as the person who _told him we'd be coming_." He seethed in anger as he said this.

"Another traitor," said Ron, nodding.

"Seems like it," said Rufus. "I didn't want to bring it up until... well, Hermione's condition... stabilized." He didn't need to add the 'one way or the other'.

"Yes," hissed Harry. "Another bloody traitor. Where would Voldemort be without them?" There was a collective sigh as everyone pondered about who it might be.

"Well," said Rufus after standing up, "I should be getting back to check in with Tonks and Jack, now that your family's here."

Harry embraced him in thanks for the support he had given him and said, "Thanks for taking the time to come over. It meant a lot to me." Rufus nodded and started towards the door before Harry said, "Rufus?"

"Yes, Harry?" asked Rufus in return.

"You know that you're my family, too; don't you?" replied Harry, earnestly.

Rufus stood still for a second to compose himself before coming up with the bravado to say, "I hope you're thinking along the lines of uncle. I wouldn't want to be lumped in the same age group as Albus."

"I don't blame you," said Harry with a short laugh. With that, Rufus headed out the door.

After a couple more minutes, the healer's assistant that had shown the second Weasley group to the waiting room returned. "Mr. Potter," she whispered in the silent room.

Harry jumped up and ran over. "Yes?" he asked, using the shortest sentence he could think of.

"She's still being worked on," said the assistant. "A muggle healer is in there with them and they're discussing their options."

"And?" asked Harry, wanting more than he was being offered.

"And that's all," replied the young woman, compassionately. "I didn't want to interrupt them for more details. They're pretty busy." She then popped up straighter and said, "Oh, they _would_ like her full medical records as soon as possible."

"Blinky," said Harry, turning quickly. "Have someone go to Poppy and have her come here with Hermione's records."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Blinky before complying with the request.

"I have to get back to work," said the assistant. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she said, "They know you're here. They'll send word just as soon as they can." With that, she left.

"Healers don't like to say much until they're sure," said Molly, rising once again. "We do have reason for optimism, though."

"Like what?" asked Harry, looking for whatever hope he could find.

"For one thing," stated Molly, "the longer they're in there, the better the odds she'll survive." Harry looked at her strangely, not seeing the connection.

"They explained it to me when Arthur had that nasty snake bite," explained Molly. "You see, they must have controlled the bleeding or she'd have bled to death by now. The same is also probably true with her breathing. There might be other issues, but if you can breath and pump blood this long after being severely injured, you're doing pretty good."

"I suppose," said Harry, nodding at the simple, but logical conclusion.

"That's right, son," said Arthur, standing next to his wife. "I don't know what happened, but if it isn't a curse or disease, they can usually fix you up pretty quickly."

"But she was hurt so bad," said Harry, once again having his mood darken.

"How bad was it?" asked Ron. "I mean, all we know is she was bleeding. Was she cut? Did they use the Sectumsempra?"

"No," said Harry, sitting down to cover his eyes. "It was something else. It... it blasted a hole straight through her chest. I could see... I could put my hand... inside." He held up his hand and looked at it in wonder.

"No!" shouted Molly. She hadn't expected this.

"My God," said Ron in shock. The others in the room also reflected their surprise at the wound Harry described. His despair was now more understandable.

"I... I couldn't use tears," he explained. "There wasn't time. The attack..." He had to stop.

"That's enough," said Molly, once again putting her arm around him. With a newfound understanding of the situation, they waited for news.

* * *

Luna finished writing down the ingredients used to soak mummy bandages and closed the reference book. Setting it in the return bin, she glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to eleven. Checking her own watch to double-check the time, she gathered up the scrolls she had written at Hermione's request and put them in her pack. She then left the library to make her way to the Daily Prophet. She didn't think she had enough time to completely research one of the remaining items so she decided to just head on over to her father's new office. She had made that an option with Harry and Hermione in the first place and decided to exercise it.

As she walked, she became aware of an unusual amount of broom traffic. Those riding weren't exhibiting the usual 'rider's grin' that most avid broomers did while cruising low over the unsuspecting public. No, these riders all had serious, if not outright grim expressions. They seemed wary to her, as well. Looking about to see what might have caused this, she became aware that there were very few other people out and about.

This caused her to momentarily heighten her senses and she immediately got the feeling that she was being watched. Turning around, she saw no one overtly stalking her, but the feeling remained. She picked up the pace a bit on her way to the Daily Prophet.

Turning the corner, the sense that she was being followed intensified to the point where she was sure of it. Pulling her wand, she increased her speed to a jog. She only made it twenty yards further before she was confronted by a hooded wizard holding his own wand at the ready.

"Come along in here, then," he said, urgently trying to grab her by the robes. He was near an open shop door.

"Help!" shouted Luna, twisting to get away. She dashed down the walkway.

"Ach!" grunted the man as he was flung harshly against the wall of the building. "What the ... Come back!" he called, moments later.

"Miss Luna," shouted a small voice. "Be being waiting for Stomper."

Luna stopped. "Stomper?" she asked, remembering the elf from her encounter with Greyback.

An invisibility cloak was pulled off by the elf; it had been folded twice to make it small enough to be manageable, and the small figure appeared; complete with the official red robes.

"Get in here," called the original wizard that had accosted her. He stepped into the street, wand drawn, and glanced all about before gesturing for them to come, but made no overtly sinister moves directed towards either Luna or the elf. Luna then recognized him.

"Brad?" she asked, having overheard his name in the library. "What's going on?" She had assessed him at their first meeting and had decided that, although a bit quick-tempered, he wasn't dangerous.

"There was an attack," he said, continuing to scan their area. He again encouraged her to come into the small shop where he had apparently taken refuge. This time, Luna, along with Stomper, agreed.

Shutting the door, Brad's friend, Rosiline, whispered, "Death Eaters, my dear. A major attack."

"The explosions stopped about thirty or so minutes ago," added Brad, "but it seemed prudent to stay out of sight for a bit." Everyone in the place nodded at the wisdom of their course of action. Then again, if you have to hole up, a donut shop is a good place to do it.

"An attack," repeated Luna, thinking. She put her Ravenclaw mind to work.

"Yes," said Brad. "About a click down that way. " He indicated north while taking up his position at the door. He was apparently the first line of defense for those inside.

"Stomper," said Luna, deciding how to get some information, "why are you here?"

"Stomper is being sent to protect Miss Luna," answered Stomper.

"Who sent you?" she asked.

"Harry Potter," replied Stomper. This brought some murmurs from those nearby.

"Was Harry involved in this attack?" asked Luna.

"Yes," answered Stomper. He backed up a bit as everyone gathered around.

"Where's Harry now?" asked Luna, getting impatient with both the pace of the conversation and the sudden lack of privacy. Perhaps she could just ask Harry, himself, what had happened.

"Harry Potter is being at St. Mungo's Hospital," answered Stomper.

"Oh, dear," exclaimed an elderly witch. "Is he hurt?" Many eager ears waited for the answer.

"No, Mistress," answered Stomper to the relief of everyone within hearing.

"Thank goodness," said Luna. "Would it be safe for you to take me to him?" If Harry wasn't injured but was at the hospital, she decided to get the rest of the story from him.

"Yes, Miss Luna," answered Stomper, raising his hand.

"Is it safe out there?" asked the same witch from before. This elf seemed to be fairly well informed.

"It is being safe, Mistress," replied Stomper. "The bad wizards is being gone and there is being many Hogwarts Free Elves and some aurors being watching Diagon Alley."

"_Hogwarts_ elves?" asked an older wizard near the back.

"Yes, but please don't tell anyone about the elves," requested Luna of the group. "They're supposed to be a secret. Well, as secret as possible."

"I see," said Brad, pulling his head back inside after another scan of the immediate area. "I suppose that's why they wear the red robes." Once alerted to their presence and appearance, it was easy enough to spot another elf a hundred or so yards to the southwest.

"I know it's not a good secret," replied Luna, patiently, "but the less that gets out, the better."

"We understand," said Rosiline, tapping Brad on his shoulder. "Come along, then. It's your shout. One more before we head out." There was a generally good-natured repositioning as everyone gathered around the counter while the shop keeper brought out another dozen treats; this time eclairs.

"Let's go, Stomper," whispered Luna while the crowd was distracted. With a pop, they were gone.

* * *

"This way," said Minerva to Dan and Emma. They scurried through the doors of the lobby and headed down the hallway. Emma, fearing that what time they might have left was slipping away, kept close behind the taller and older woman in front of her, attempting to force her to go faster. In her hand, she held Samuel. The old toy was a stuffed wiener dog; Hermione's favorite while a young child. While waiting for Dan, Emma had instinctively run to fetch it for her daughter. When Hermione was recovering in the hospital from having her tonsils taken out, Samuel had comforted her. Now, it was serving the same purpose for her mother.

"How much further?" asked Emma, as they made a left turn and headed up some stairs.

"It isn't far to the waiting room," replied Minerva. She finished the flight of steps and pointed down the hall to their right. "A hundred feet or so this way and then down the second; no wait, the third hall on the left."

McGonagall had been too specific. With the course locked in, Emma jogged a few feet before letting go and running down the hall, clutching Samuel in her hand. She paused only briefly to discard her shoes since the heals were becoming a limiting factor. She didn't know why, but speed was of prime importance. Like a lioness searching for her cub, she silently sprinted around the designated corner. Dan followed shortly in second place with Minerva two lengths back and fading.

Her eyes darting to the left or right each time she passed a room, Emma was starting to overcome her panic to the point of slowing a bit. After all; she didn't want to overshoot her daughter's room. The reduction in speed turned out to be a good thing because within fifty more feet, she found herself fast approaching a figure stepping into her path. Recognizing him, she shouted, "Harry," and ran into his outstretched arms.

"Emma," he said, hugging her, "I'm glad you got here in... I mean, I'm glad you're here." Emma held on while Dan and, eventually, Minerva caught up.

"Where is she?" asked Dan. Since their arrival in the hospital, he had thought of various ways to find out if his daughter was still alive that didn't just come right out and say it.

"She's in the healing room," said Harry, pointing down the hallway. "They're working on her right now." Everyone looked at the distant door. It was shut, now. Everyone and everything that they needed had been brought inside. There really wouldn't be any point in going down there, but Emma was considering it, nevertheless.

Before they could decide, as a group, where to go next, a familiar popping sound was heard inside the waiting room followed fairly quickly by an equally familiar witch coming through the door.

"Harry," said the nurse, taking a moment to give him a quick, one-armed hug. Her other arm held a sheaf of parchments with neat writing and a few diagrams.

Harry saw the requested records and, deciding to kill two birds with one stone, said, "You'd better take those in to them, Poppy." He then turned to Minerva and quietly said, "Rufus had to leave. Just give us a few minutes and we'll be back."

"Of course," said Minerva. She gave both of the Grangers a quick hug before entering the waiting room.

Harry led the way towards the healing room. When they reached the door, he said, "If you could get some details for us, I'd appreciate it."

"We would, too," confirmed Emma with Dan nodding, gravely.

"I'll see what I can find out," said Poppy. Pulling her wand, she cast a sanitizing spell over herself and entered.

"I'll just be a moment," she said, shutting the door behind her.

"Poppy's the best," said Harry. "She'll give it to us straight." The older couple both nodded and held onto each other as they all watched the door. A minute went by; then another. The longer they waited, the more intensely gravity pulled on Emma until, after about ten minutes had passed since the closing of the door, she was forced to the floor by the weight of her worry. Sobbing almost silently, she put her hand over her heart to try to keep it from bursting through her chest.

"She's going to be fine," declared Dan. "She'll be up and... and around and..." His voice cracked as he was unable to continue with the charade. He sat next to his wife; leaning against the wall with his arms around her as they waited for what would come.

They didn't have to wait long. Within the minute, the door burst open as a healer's assistant came running through to retrieve an obscure powder. The door was ajar for less than a second, but it was enough time for them to see the feet of a figure covered in a green sheet lying on the table; a green-clad healer on one side; a doctor wearing a white lab coat on the other with Poppy's school nurse uniform identifying her as the one in a kneeling straddle over Hermione's legs. Flashes of blue, yellow and orange reflected off the faces of those attempting to save the young witch's life, revealing their intense concentration. After an age, the door mercifully closed, again.

"Hermione!" cried Emma, throwing herself against the door. It opened out and so remained shut, but there was a short pause in the commotion behind it due to the thud.

Harry and Dan both went to help Emma to her feet. "I don't think this is the best place to wait," said Harry. "Let's go back with the others." With a nod of encouragement from Dan, Emma let them half guide, half drag her back to the waiting room where a half dozen Weasley's had congregated by the doorway at the sound of her shout. Unnoticed and unmissed, Samuel remained by the door to stand guard for his old mistress.

* * *

Cathy Diben sat on a bench situated at the base of the northeastern wall of the new guest quarters and worked on her shopping list. The first group of shoppers had left an hour or so earlier with Harry Potter and his wife, so those with trips scheduled in the near future were keen to plan out their own excursions. Cathy was signed up for the coming Thursday. So far, her list consisted mostly of items for her children. Powder and some toys for Tracy to replace those that had been left behind and healing potions, salves and creams for her more energetic boys.

It was fairly brisk, being Scotland during the latter half of November, but a thick wool sweater and knit hat had made her comfortable enough. Four or five other families were trying their best to get as much outdoor time in as possible before the inevitable winter weather finally arrived. Tracy, who had been bundled up head to toe in two layers of flannel, was exploring the nearby bushes while Seth and Jerome were attempting, unsuccessfully for the present, to climb the courtyard wall.

Cathy's normal chatting partner, Parry, hadn't come out this morning. She had waited for awhile, as no other widow from the group seemed interested in being friendly to her, but she had eventually had to take her paper and read it without the enjoyable option of discussing any of the stories with someone.

Suddenly, one of the women ran out of the entrance. Looking around, she called to them as she made her identifications. "Kay. Helen. Laura. Muriel." She looked at Cathy but quickly turned away after recognizing her. "Come in, quickly. Marie just got back. There's been an attack." She then ran back inside.

The other women gathered their families to follow. Cathy, although acutely aware that she was specifically not informed, also called her sons to her. Gathering up her things, including Tracy, she was the last one through the doors.

"...shook the dust off the shelves," said Marie to the cluster of women around her. "Blast after blast. We were too far away to really see anything, but our elf said that we needed to take cover. I _think_ he did, at least. Hard to understand them, you know."

"I know," said Kay. "You didn't see anything at all?"

"No," replied Marie. "We could hear plenty, though. Explosions, like I said, and screams to chill your blood. Oh, it was like a nightmare. Everyone running and shouting; trying to get away. Our elf kept calling for people to come into the clothing store we were in. Most just kept on running, of course, but a few came in."

"Where _is_ your elf?" asked Georgia. "He must know what happened."

Marie looked around. "He's invisible most of the time," she explained. "Let's see. Oh, I've forgotten his name. Elf." She said the last word in a summoning voice.

"What is Mistress being needing," asked a young elf, unknown to everyone.

"Where's the elf that was with us this morning?" asked Marie, surprised.

"Pounder is being at Diagon Alley, Mistress," replied the elf.

"What's he doing back there?" asked Kay, inquisitively.

"Pounder is being helping being taking hurt witches and wizards to wizard hospital, Mistress," was the reply.

"Oh," said Marie. "I suppose we shouldn't disturb him, right now. Could you ask him to stop back when he's finished? We have a few questions about today's attack."

"Yes, Mistress," replied Swizzle. "Swizzle is being asking for Mistress."

"Thanks," said Marie.

"Where's Linda?" asked Sonya. It hadn't escaped her powers of observation that only one of the two families had returned.

"Mistress Linda is being with Windy, Mistress," answered Swizzle after a moment's hesitation.

"Is she alright?" asked Jean, concerned.

"She is being well and is being coming back soon," answered Swizzle, adding some additional information on his own.

"Why didn't she come back when we did?" asked Marie.

"The goblin wards is making popping not be being working where she is being, Mistress," replied Swizzle. "They is all being walking past Goblin wards and then is being popping back."

"Was anyone hurt or killed?" asked Cathy. She stood near the back of the group but had been listening. Several of the other women turned as if to comment, but the question was valid so they returned their attention to Swizzle.

"Many wizards and some witches is being killed, Mistress," stated Swizzle. "Many more is being hurt." He wasn't asked for specifics so he didn't explain that most of the dead and injured were Death Eaters.

"Was Harry Potter killed?" asked several voices at once. Everyone closed in to hear.

"No, Mistresses," replied Swizzle. "Harry Potter is being well, but Mistress Hermione is being hurt."

"Hermione?" asked Cathy, concerned. "How bad? Will she be alright?" Harry and Hermione, despite their reputation among Death Eater families, had proven to be fairly nice and stopped to chat with her whenever they were checking on the group. She took this to heart since, besides Parry and Ellie, none of the other families would have anything to do with her.

Swizzle paused for a moment before saying, "No one is being knowing, Mistress. Mistress Hermione is being hurt very bad." He bowed his head as a sign of concern.

"I thought the elves could protect them," said Marie. "They had two with them, didn't they?"

"Jumper and Flower is being with Harry Potter and Mistress Hermione, Mistress," said Swizzle. "They is being killed when bad wizards is attacking."

"Killed?" asked Marie, shocked. "How many of these bad wizards attacked them?"

"Many," replied Swizzle. "Jumper is being saying that many wizards is being in the store and many more is being outside when the fight is being starting."

"It sounds like it was a trap," suggested Kay. She looked around at the group and turned, joining the swell of narrowing eyes that had sought out Cathy. "It sounds like they _knew_ they were coming."

Cathy, clutching Tracy tightly to her chest, backed away. "Don't look at me like that," she said. "I... I never told anyone where they were going." Her two boys, perhaps noticing the implied menace in the eyes of the women, stood their ground in front of her and their sister.

"We aren't accusing you of anything," sneered out Georgia, sarcastically. "I'm sure you're perfectly innocent_, just like your Death Eater rat of a husband_."

"Joe wasn't a rat," shouted back Cathy through her tears. "He was good, and kind."

"Oh, I'm sure he was," replied Muriel with mock kindness, "to his own family. What about us? It was people like him that made us all widows."

"Joe never hurt anyone," protested Cathy. "He... he..."

"He _what?_" asked Marie. "Of course he hurt people. That's what Death Eaters do. They're all murdering bastards."

"Stop talking bad about my daddy," shouted Seth, running up to stand in front of Marie. "My daddy's the best daddy in the world." Jerome, though unsure of what any of this was about, still took his place next to his brother.

"Boys, get back," called Cathy. She still had Tracy in her arms and was reticent to physically retrieve them. "They never met Daddy. They don't know."

There was a pause as the auror widows calmed themselves. They certainly didn't like where this conversation was going any more than Cathy. Eventually, Helen; perhaps the most even-handed member of the sorority, said, "We shouldn't say more in front of the children. We don't know anything about the attack. We don't know if she was involved." The others mumbled their general disapproval at the termination of the discussion but they could all agree that it should be postponed. "I will say this, however," she continued. "Having the wife and children of a Death Eater living with us was a mistake. The next time Mary comes, I'm going to request that they be removed." More mumbling, but this time in agreement.

"But we didn't do anything," pleaded Cathy as the other women broke up and wandered away.

* * *

Luna and Stomper popped into the waiting room. She was surprised by the number of people, but quickly noted who was here and who wasn't. When the most glaring omission was added to the news of the attack and the fact that they were in a hospital, she immediately walked up to Harry and quietly asked, "How's Hermione?" She knew Hermione wasn't dead because Harry was here; not out somewhere, hunting down Voldemort.

Harry happened to be more or less alone for the moment, due mostly to the fact that his support group had managed, quite understandably, to morph into Emma's support group. Molly, in particular, could relate to her feelings since she had once given Ginny up for dead. Ron and Bill had also nearly died, but there's something about a mother's love for her daughter that is special enough to make her possible loss just that much more difficult to bear.

"She's being treated right now," said Harry, equally softly. "She's hurt pretty bad, but they... ah..." He didn't know how to end that sentence. 'They haven't given up, yet?'

Luna looked at him strangely and asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Harry, startled by the question, responded with, "I don't think so. There's a couple healers, a muggle doctor and Madame Pomfrey in there with her right now." He wondered why Luna would even offer.

"I can't help Hermione," said Luna, nearly dismissively. Sitting next to him, she put her hand on his and clarified, "I meant is there anything I can do to help _you_." She gazed compassionately into his eyes and he felt more at ease with talking about his feelings.

"I... I don't know, Luna," he replied. "I don't think that anyone can help me while Hermione's still..." He broke off, but looked instinctively in the direction of the healing room when he sensed a familiar and two unknown people approaching.

"That might be true," agreed Luna, oddly misinterpreting his abrupt pause. "You have enough to worry about for now. However, when..." She stopped when Madame Pomfrey entered the room.

"Harry," said the nurse, beckoning him over to her. She didn't say any more, but the entire population of the room was as silent as church mice as Harry rose and crossed the floor to stand next to her. Well, two of the mice made some slight shuffling noises as they quickly joined the conversation despite their lack of invitations.

Poppy acknowledged the inclusion of the Graingers and led the trio over to the corner.

"Hermione's still hanging in there," she began, knowing that that was the most pressing question on their minds. "She's stabilized and we've started her on a potion drip. However, we're having some problems. Could you..."

"What sort of problems?" interrupted Dan, immediately. Emma, too, waited breathlessly for the answer.

"Nothing life threatening," said Poppy to the relief of everyone. "I think that we're past that point, at least. Now, the problem is she isn't reacting to certain spells and potions to help her recovery." She had to stop again and tend to a new patient. Emma had collapsed to the floor.

"Mrs. Grainger," said Poppy, urgently. She felt her forehead and quickly took her pulse the old fashioned way before performing a more detailed exam with her wand.

"Are you alright?" asked Molly, rushing over to her side.

"Oh," said Emma in a relieved voice. Smiling, she said, "Never better. Hermione's... she's going to live." She smiled a second longer before the tears of relief began to flow.

Poppy checked her initial results and, being satisfied, said, "That's the most important news, I suppose. Now, if you'll excuse me, the healers and I have some technical questions for Harry that are fairly important. We'll just be a few minutes." With that, she rose and led Harry out into the hallway. The nature of what these 'technical questions' might be was on everyone's minds, but they respected the implicit request for privacy and remained in the room.

"Episkey will fix small cuts and burns," said Harry when they had taken a few steps from the door. "Beyond that, you're on your own." The news that Hermione was probably going to live had buoyed him to the point of reverting to his true nature and making a cheeky comment.

"Thank you," said Poppy, flicking her wand towards the door to erect a silencing spell, "but we need some specific information; not medical advice." She led him to the two men who had walked down with her a moment earlier. Indicating one of the original responders from the lobby, Poppy said, "Healer Jurgussen thinks a curse might be involved in some problems we've been having. I think that it might be something else. Tell us everything that happened."

"Everything?" asked Harry, trying to dredge up as many details as he could.

"Sorry," said Poppy. "I meant everything that happened to Hermione. The injury and everything that happened just to her after that."

"Oh," said Harry. He then described, to the best of his ability, the spell that hit her; the scattered attempts to stop the bleeding; the general protection spells used to protect her during the attack and finally, the liberal use of tears along with his confusion at the lack of success.

"So the first thing you did," summarized Poppy, "before tears or anything else, was magically cauterize her major blood vessels to stop the bleeding." She bowed her head slightly, in thought.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Harry, voicing his fear.

"Not really," said Jurgussen, also considering what he had just learned. "You did what you had to do to save her life. I can't fault you there. We're just having problems, now, because of it. Madame Pomfrey's told us how your magic is pretty strong to begin with. If you upped the level, as I would suspect, to save your wife's life, then it would be almost impossible for us to reverse."

"What sort of trouble are you having?" asked Harry, worried.

"Well," began the nurse, "first, the good news. You didn't have to do anything to the bones. The scapula and three ribs were severely damaged or blown completely away, but Skelegrow can be used intravenously to restore them. A few other ribs and incidental bones were fractured and have already been fixed. On the bad side; her right lung was destroyed, along with her breast. You knew that, of course. We might have been able to do something with those, but probably not. About all we could normally do would be to seal or re-route some of the major veins and arteries to allow blood to flow as efficiently as before. Your magic is preventing us from doing that." She quickly reached out and put her hand on his shoulder as Harry began to stagger back against the wall in shock.

"Mr. Potter," said Dr. Lorian, "there just wasn't any choice. Anyone receiving the wounds your wife did should be dead. You saved her life; that's the important part. Her recovery will be slower and less complete, but at least she'll be alive."

"But she lost a lung," exclaimed Harry. "That's more than 'less complete'. That's pretty bloody major."

"Actually," said Poppy, smiling a bit to calm Harry, "She should be more or less back to normal in a couple of weeks."

"Come again?" asked Harry. He knew the human body had a few optional organs, but he never included lungs in that group.

"She'll have to give up sprinting around the lake," explained Poppy, "but with the exception of taking deeper breaths with her remaining lung, she won't even notice the difference after a while."

"Really?" asked Harry, stunned. "Well, that doesn't sound too bad." Turning to another question, he asked, "So why were all of you hovering around her, casting spells like mad, if it wasn't that much to be concerned with?" Poppy had been kneeling on the table, for Heaven's sake.

"We were trying to close the wounds," replied Jurgussen. "Like I said; you used powerful magic. We couldn't reverse it enough to ... where are you going?" Harry had begun to head for the healing room.

"Why can't I just remove my magic?" asked Harry, walking with the rest of them.

"Because it would be too dangerous and it isn't absolutely necessary," answered Poppy. Harry stopped at her touch. "Dr. Lorian is what they call a _surgeon_ and he can work on her the muggle way, at St. George's."

"That would be much safer, at this point," added Dr. Lorian. "Although she'd need to stay there about a week before she could return home."

"About a week," repeated Harry, confirming the information. "That's not too bad."

"No, it isn't," agreed Poppy. "There's still the chest wound to deal with, but I think that you and I can handle that. In fact, it might be an advantage to do so."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. The other healers also seemed interested in her answer.

"Well," started Poppy, "normally, having a gaping hole in your chest would be a top priority to heal. In this case, the sanitary shield could be used until after Dr. Lorian is finished with her. He wouldn't have to make an incision to work on her blood vessels and we could close it up when he's finished."

"Brilliant," said Dr. Lorian. "If we're agreed, I'll contact my staff to prepare an operating room and to have Mrs. Potter admitted." With nods all around, he walked off to find the lobby phone.

"We'll go prepare Hermione," said Poppy. "You can go inform everyone of what's going to happen."

"I will," replied Harry. He took and exhaled a deep breath. Taking Poppy's hand, he said, "Thanks for coming down and helping, Poppy. You're still a life-saver."

Poppy released Harry's hand and gave him a hug. "My pleasure," she said. Breaking apart, she scurried after Healer Jurgussen.

With new hope, Harry straightened himself up and headed back into the waiting room.

* * *

With less hope than dread, Snape knocked on the door of his master's private quarters. They had barely begun the transfer of headquarters to Ninebanks, but the Dark Lord had altered his usual habit and had arrived with the first group. He sequestered himself in his rooms and none had the courage to disturb him. Until now, that is.

There was no verbal reply to knock, but a few seconds later, the knob on the door turned and it creaked slowly inwards. Snape could see the Dark Lord sitting in his chair as he set his wand on the table next to him. He continued to look out the large west-facing window while a bottle of brandy and a coffee mug also rested nearby.

Their headquarters, set in an idyllic location overlooking the valley of the River West Allen, was normally not used in late fall or winter. The isolation, normally a prime consideration when choosing a headquarters, was a little _too_ good here, and if one were prone to depressing thoughts, this place would be your muse.

Snape walked next to Voldemort and said, "My lord. I've spoken to a few of the men at the forefront of the attack. Most of their information conformed to what we, ourselves, observed. Two things stood out, though. First; the surprise seemed to be complete. Potter's mudblood was down almost immediately and Potter, himself, was forced into an awkward and undefendable position on his back. They felt confident that, given time, they could have finished him." He paused, waiting for a reaction of some sort. Not getting one, he continued.

"The second thing was more of a mystery," said Snape, using a softer voice. "Although at least twenty seconds passed between the last offensive spell and the arrival of Moody, they could barely make any headway. None of them could give any specifics, but they all could feel some sort of massive wave of magical power that held them back. Their spells were ineffective and no further damage was done to either Potter or the mudblood. They all continued to fire in the belief that, eventually, the shield would subside and they would succeed."

"Why did none of them utilize the Avada Kedavra?" asked Voldemort, with an odd tone to his voice.

"I didn't specifically ask, Master," said Snape. "However, Hinkley mentioned it in passing. He also expressed a bit of confusion as to why it didn't seem to occur to him." Hubert Hinkley had been one of the Death Eaters rescued from Azkaban. He had used the Avada Kedavra without hesitation numerous times in the past. It _should_ have occured to him.

"Very well, Severus," said Voldemort, reaching for his mug. "Let me know if anything interesting turns up." He took a sip.

"Yes, Master," said Snape, turning to leave.

"Have our French recruits stopped screaming yet?" asked Voldemort as an afterthought. There was a bit of a smirk in his voice.

"For the most part," replied Snape. "It would seem that the lesson you wished to teach has been learned."

"Very good," said Voldemort. "They could be very useful now that their arrogance is lessened." He paused, again, as another thought came to mind. "We need to learn a bit, ourselves. Contact your spy. We need to set up an appointment with the teacher."

* * *

Author's note: I might not have reviewed this as well as I should, but it's time again for the Breakfast with Santa. For my new readers, that's one of two events I organize in my town. We have a breakfast for the community and raise money for the food pantry and the local Veteran's hospital. I probably won't be replying to reviews until after it's over. See you all next chapter.

Dad


	110. Chapter 110

Chapter 110 - Saints Preserve Us

November 22nd, 1997

At the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

"I haven't seen him all day." Dadelus Diggle was quite as animated as normal, but his current movements were more in line with the great distress he was feeling upon hearing the news of the attack on Harry and the death of Mad-eye.

"Well, who _have_ you seen?" asked Remus. "Fletcher practically lives here, these days. Someone must have talked to him or seen him this morning." Remus had run through all of the people who knew about either the planned raid on Windsor Castle or the trip to Diagon Alley. It was obvious that there was a connection between the two. After months of nearly identical reconnaissance from the tool shed, to suddenly have a change, and with someone who had never done that work before, on the very day that Harry would be attacked, was beyond the realm of coincidence.

Remus had spent the first part of the afternoon checking out those who knew of the trip to Diagon Alley. Voldemort had received enough information to stage a very detailed attack in the one location, besides the Daily Prophet offices, that Harry and Hermione were specifically going to be visiting. As far as he could determine, besides the women involved, there was only Luna, Harry, Hermione, Tonks and himself who knew this. And the elves, of course. The only reasonable suspect was Cathy Diben. He had talked to her for over an hour, but with the exception of an unusual amount of unease in her demeanor, Remus' initial thought was that she didn't seem to be up to that level of espionage. Not quite content to leave it at that, he had further checked with one of the elves assigned to the refugees to see if Diben had sent any letters between the time the trips were announced and this morning. The owlry was out of their reach, for the time being, so any correspondence had to be performed by elf. Cathy had sent only three letters since her arrival and had received four. All were to and from her mother. Only an incoming delivery had occurred during that span of time so she was off the hook, for now.

After that, Remus switched over to ponder the other group; those who knew about the operation at Windsor Castle. It didn't take long for his mind to latch onto Mundungus Fletcher. Although not officially in the loop of those who knew the planned movements of Harry, he had a lot of contacts and couldn't be ruled out without an interview. It was for that purpose that Remus had come to Headquarters.

"I came for breakfast around seven," said Diggle, thinking through his day to see if anything was of help. "Mad-eye was here, and Homer and Agnes stopped by around eight or so. Let's see..." He scratched his beard to aid his memory. It wasn't helping.

"Slinky," snapped Remus, seeing a better source of information. Slinky had been ordered back to Headquarters and Winky to Hogwarts when the switch had been made to the muggle hospital. He was reminded of this as she brought Diggle the second piece of pie he had requested a short time earlier.

"What can Slinky be ..." began Slinky before she was interrupted.

"Where's Mundungus Fletcher?" asked Remus. As a semi-permanent resident of the mansion, Slinky should be able to locate him.

Slinky paused a moment before saying, "Slinky isn't being knowing, Master Remus. Master Dung is being hiding from Slinky."

"Hiding?" asked Remus. "You can't sense him at all?" His surprise at this information narrowed the focus of his investigation significantly.

"No, Master Remus," answered Slinky.

Remus thought about this some more. Being difficult to locate would be an advantage in his trade. It didn't necessarily mean anything.

"Hmm," he mused. "Is that normal for him? You know; not being able to be detectable." Perhaps this was nothing.

"Slinky isn't being sure, Master Remus," answered Slinky. "Slinky isn't being trying to be being finding Master Dung before now."

Remus sighed. He felt confident that Fletcher was a likely candidate, if not for the position of traitor, at least for possibly being a gullible source of information for the right sort of questioner. It was his own past that checked his impulsiveness. Hadn't he, along with everyone else, assumed that Sirius was a traitor? Before that, he, himself, had been under enough suspicion to keep James and Lily from entrusting him with being their Secret Keeper. He would need some proof before switching from investigator to hunter.

"Alright," he said, more or less to both Diggle and Slinky. "Send word if he shows up." He gathered his things and outlined in his mind a few of the seedier locations to begin his search. His lunch could wait.

"Will do," said Dadelus as he pulled up to his pie.

* * *

At St. George's Hospital

Harry waited, appropriately enough, in the waiting room. It was in a different hospital than St. Mungo's, although still named for a saint. Not as many of his friends and family remained that had initially come to support him. He didn't blame them, really. Almost five hours had passed since they had arrived; muggle surgery being more of a marathon than a sprint. Dan and Emma were still there, of course; not quite dozing, with Emma calmly stroking the fuzzy fur of Samuel. Ron and Honey had also stayed, but since it had required a transfer to a muggle wheelchair, Ron was getting antsy. Fred and George had had to return to their shop, but promised to pop in when Hermione was transferred to a private room. Ginny and Neville sat in the corner, cuddled together, taking a mutual cat nap. Arthur was examining the muggle magazines with drowsy interest while his wife automatically clicked her knitting needles together, making a sound eerily reminiscent of Morse code.

The Dursley's, although on better terms with Harry than in the past, were no more comfortable offering encouraging words than he was in receiving any from them. It just didn't feel right with either party, so with the logistical problem of transportation as an excuse, they had popped back home from St. Mungo's with Kreacher. Minerva had remained for awhile, but left when Rufus sent word that the investigation could take all day and Greta's regular sitter could only watch her until two o'clock in the afternoon. Remus had stopped by, but had only confirmed the rumors he had heard that Hermione, although seriously injured, was now expected to live. He had offered a few words of comfort before quickly departing; explaining the need to attend to some urgent business. Harry had a good guess on what the urgent business might be. Once Hermione was safely out of surgery and in her room, with probably an overly large elf guard, he might have some 'urgent business' of his own to tend to. For now, though, they had all become talked out and were just waiting. As has been previously stated, they were in the room for it.

Sitting patiently across from Harry, sat Luna. She wasn't staring, exactly. Perhaps _observing_ would be a more correct description of her current interest in her famous friend. Something she had noticed when she first saw him had alarmed her to the point of... Well, she didn't know what she would have done, but she would have done _something. _Fortunately, the circumstances had changed almost immediately after her arrival and the danger, while still present, had lowered dramatically. They had talked off and on, along with the other members of his family present, about the attack and Hermione's part in saving his life. The specifics of the true nature of the damage was never spoken of due to the presence of Dan and Emma, but the fact that it was serious was enough to keep them in a state of near panic, anyway.

Harry still felt bad that someone as precious as Hermione had risked her life to save him. Luna had continually brought up the fact that if the shoe was on the other foot, Harry would have done the same for her. She knew that Harry was hesitant to confirm something that sounded so boastful, but she also knew that he knew it was true. That helped lessen his guilt, just a bit, but he still had issues. Perhaps she'd discuss the situation with Hermione when she was able. For now, about all she could do was be there if there was another turn of events.

Also waiting, although not as comfortably, were the Hogwarts Free Elves. After all of the human survivors had been evacuated from the vicinity of the battle, a few elves had found less conspicuous spots from which to view Diagon Alley. Although it appeared that the Death Eaters had all left, they weren't taking it for granted that they would remain away. A specific group of four elves kept an especially keen eye on the Daily Prophet and its new editor. They didn't know why he would be in danger, but Harry Potter and Jumper were planning on meeting with him to discuss his security. That meeting hadn't taken place, of course, so the remaining elves were taking no chances.

Speaking of 'taking no chances', fully a dozen cloaked and regular guards patrolled the roof and entrances of St. George's Hospital. Maps were in use and everyone who entered or left was checked. This was not the first time that Harry Potter was out of their control on a relatively safe expedition and someone very close and very important to him was severely wounded in a massive, surprise attack. That would _not_ be happening again. Whether he liked it or not, Harry Potter had taken his last trip without adequate protection.

As the clock on the wall approached five o'clock, Poppy entered the room and, briefly looking around, charted a course that allowed her to tap Dan and Emma on their shoulders before proceeding over to Harry. Harry stood as she approached.

Poppy waited for Dan and Emma before quietly saying, "Hermione's surgery is finished, as far as Dr. Lorian is concerned. Everything went well." They all sighed in relief with Emma taking top honors. Poppy continued with, "It's your turn, now, Harry. If you'll come with me, we can go close the wound and get her into, ah... what do they call it? Whatever. We'll get her into the room where she can recover from all of the treatments."

"Can we see her?" asked Emma, pleadingly. She just wanted to see her daughter so that she would know that everything would be alright.

"I'm afraid not," said Poppy. "Only those absolutely necessary can go into the operating room. Infections and all." She hoped Emma would believe the half-truth. It would have been easy enough to sterilize Hermione's parents, but not so easy to calm them after they saw the still horrendous wound.

"I... I understand," said Emma, disappointed. She sat back down with her husband and 'dog'.

"This way, Harry," said Poppy as she turned and walked out the door. Harry, with an unsure look around the room, followed. Molly and Arthur, having overheard the conversation, took positions near the Grangers to offer some words of encouragement while Ron and Honey stayed nearby. It seemed the worst was over, after all.

* * *

Back at St. Mungo's

"She didn't have much information," said Tonks. "About an hour before they opened, a small group of Death Eaters broke in and hustled them to their back room. Her husband, Jim, resisted about as well as you'd expect from a man of a hundred and five." She glanced over at Ruby, lying still on her bed.

"They always do," said Jack. "Never seems to help much, but they always do."

"I know," said Tonks. "That protective instinct kicks in and reality goes out the window. Anyway, they stunned him and tied them both up. They must have had some Polyjuice Potion since they pulled some hairs from each of them. Two of them went up to their rooms and when they came back down, they had transformed. Must have taken some of their clothes while they were up there."

"Naturally," agreed Rufus. "They had to dress just like the old couple."

"Exactly," said Tonks. "After that, she lost track of time. She thinks they came back for more hair three or four times. At some point, they stopped taking Jim's. She didn't know why, or maybe she didn't want to understand, but he must have died." Tonks, trying to prevent a repeat of her earlier emotionalism while giving a report, paused briefly to regain control.

"That fits in with what we know," said Jack. "None of the witnesses reported seeing an old man."

"Eventually," continued Tonks, "she heard and felt the battle. The room they were in took a couple of hits, but she didn't receive any injuries. About the next thing she remembered was when we found her."

"Not much that helps," said Jack. "Did she say anything else at all?"

"Oh, yes," said Tonks with a sad smile. "We had quite a talk about how they had planned to enjoy themselves after they retired. Visiting friends; traveling; resting; that sort of thing. She also was quite proud of her husband's last work." She went next to the bed and picked up a bag on the side table. Opening it up, she handed a small box to Rufus.

Rufus opened it and saw a fabulous diamond ring with a large, fiery jewel floating above the setting.

"It's Hermione's engagement ring," said Tonks. "That's why Harry and Hermione were going there in the first place. We found it in her robes when we gathered her effects." She glanced again at the covered body next to them.

Rufus closed the box. "I'll return it to her," he said. Thinking a bit, he said "She was proud of the ring? Well, that might be another possibility to who tipped off Voldemort. If she mentioned that Harry and Hermione were coming to pick it up, today, well..." The rest didn't needed to be said. Perhaps the old couple had brought about the attack with a few reckless comments. Rufus sighed. "I think we've just about finished here. We'll start the interrogations tomorrow and see if we can figure out who, if anyone, sold them out."

"Remus started on that already," said Tonks. "Nothing much, so far. His interest is currently focused on Mundungus Fletcher, but that's still speculation. I think your suggestion that Ruby or her husband just mentioned that Harry would be coming by to one too many people is the most likely."

Jack and Rufus both considered this. "We'll probably never know for sure unless we get lucky with one of the Death Eaters," said Jack.

"True," agreed Rufus, "although I have my doubts about Dung. He's pretty familiar with Harry's abilities. I don't think he'd want to have him as an enemy."

"Hard to say," said Jack. "If the price were right..." He shrugged.

"True," said Rufus. "Let's give Remus a hand. Put a man on finding Dung." With that, he rose. After a final glance at Ruby, he headed out the door.

* * *

Let's see. Must be back at St. George's

"I've been thinking about this," said Harry, "and I'm not sure if the usual tricks are going to work that well. This isn't an arm or a leg, after all."

"That's true," agreed Poppy. "Other than closing up her chest, there really isn't any medical purpose to this sort of restoration. However, it is very important to Hermione's emotional well-being that her outward appearance is returned as close as possible to normal. A missing breast would be a constant reminder of the injury. It would also make her self-conscious whenever anyone looked her way."

"I understand," said Harry. "I'll do my best." He paused as they reached the outer doors of the operating room. Poppy cast a spell over him and he felt a sort of force field envelop his entire body. Together, they passed through to the preparation area. The nurses that had assisted Dr. Lorian, selected, as had been he, due to their knowledge of the existence of magic, were cleaning up the clamps and scalpels that had been used during the operation. Harry was a bit shocked at the amount of blood that covered them all, but forced himself to remain calm.

"Mr. Potter," said Dr. Lorian. "Dr. Jurgussen and I have repaired and rerouted the blood vessels as best as we could. Any muscles, tissue and certain areas of the dermis and epidermis that wouldn't receive proper circulation have been removed. We didn't have any issues with closing the wound in her back since that wasn't magically compromised with your initial actions. I've been told that you'll be able to replace the missing skin from her chest with some sort of substitute that won't require oxygenation." He waited for a response.

"Uh, yeah," said Harry, shaken. He sort of understood what had been explained but not enough to feel confident that he'd be doing his part properly. Still, they'd all be there with him. He took a deep breath and said, "What I conjure won't need blood or anything. It just sticks to what's around it."

"Okay, Harry," said Healer Jurgussen. "Let's go have a look and see where we stand." They entered the room.

Harry, prepared for the scene he expected, was shocked at what he saw. Odd as it might sound, the fact that

Hermione had been covered in blood the last time he had seen her, had been a blessing. With the bleeding both magically and traditionally halted, only the shimmer of the blue isolation shield obscured her wounds.

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Harry, quickly turning away. Hanging onto the edge of the door, he closed his eyes and took several deep, gulping breaths. Before his panic got away with him, he felt a series of spells strike him in the back. Poppy had half suspected his reaction and had, coincidentally, used the prescription only calming spell that Arthur Weasley used from time to time on Molly, to return him to a more normal state of mind.

"Thanks, Poppy," he said, gathering himself. "I... I just wasn't..." He didn't really know what else to say so he left it at that. With a final moment to gather himself, he turned back around.

Hermione lay flat on the operating room table. The anaesthesiologist sat on his stool, monitoring her vital signs. He was currently preparing a syringe with a small amount of a clear liquid. Looking up, he said, "Perhaps you should get on with it. The longer I have to keep her under, the more risk there is of side effects." He injected the fluid into a port on the intravenous tube leading into Hermione's left arm.

"Of course," said Harry, deliberately not looking at Hermione. He knew that he wouldn't be able to do, or not do, that much longer, so he steeled himself and turned his gaze back downwards.

Hermione's head was wrapped up in white towels which were draped over the end of the table. Harry figured that was to keep her unruly hair in check. Her face had been cleaned of blood and debris, so she looked somewhat better than the last time he had seen her; back when she had told him to find someone else to love. He had to pause to get that image out of his head before proceeding. When he could continue, he acknowledged the green sheet that covered most of her body. From the way it hung on her, he assumed that she was, if not totally nude, at the most clad in just her knickers. The sheet had been cut partway down the middle. The side closest to him; her right; had been folded out of the way, presumably to prevent interference with the blue protective sanitary shield. Through the flickering light, Harry could see that the concentrated and targeted application of Skelegro had, for the most part, restored her rib cage. Through those, however, he could see the stump of her missing lung, surrounded by the sealed up blood vessels that used to be connected to it. Also visible was her esophagus, spinal column, the inside view of her back and, almost out of view, her beating heart. Surrounding this macabre view was an irregularly shaped window of untouched, or more likely, expertly healed skin.

"We've left only those areas of her skin that were undamaged," explained Dr. Lorian, repeating himself a bit in case Harry hadn't initially fully understood. "The back wasn't a problem. Apparently, there wasn't any magical interference back there. Otto and I feel that if you can replace the rest with... well, whatever it is you use, your wife'll be more or less back to normal, physically." He waited for a moment to see if Harry had any questions.

Harry took a couple of steps forward. He examined the area with a more professional attitude, not wanting to screw this up in the least. "So I need to make some skin about this thick," he said, holding his thumb and forefinger about a quarter of an inch apart.

"Yes," said Poppy, breaking in since she had the most first-hand experience working with Harry in this capacity. "It has to attach firmly to the edges," she indicated the perimeter of the hole, "while remaining loose enough to slide over the ribs; but not too much."

"Of course," said Harry. He put his hand on his own ribs, tentatively checking the feel and extent of movement of the skin. "It seems to move up and down easier than left to right."

"I doubt you'll get that sort of precision, Harry," said Poppy. "Just try to make it stretchy enough so it won't bind when she moves."

"Okay," said Harry. "We can probably adjust it a bit when she's awake." He pulled his wand but didn't immediately start his conjuring spells. Taking another look at the area to be replaced, he took a breath and began.

The gray swirl that appeared in mid-air started out as the usual blob. Instead of forming into a shaft, though, it spun itself quickly into a disk. As it did so, Harry lowered it to hover just over his wife's chest. Poppy then cast a dispelling charm on the blue shield, causing it to vanish. Harry continued with his conjuring until the approximate size had been reached. He then let it fall into place, but just at one point. Adjusting the edge to match the skin, the disk filled in the gaps and thickened to match the thickness of the real skin. Working his way around, Harry altered the disk on the fly until Hermione's chest was once again sealed.

"That's good, Harry," said Jurgussen. He examined the repair more closely, using his wand to cast a light as he circumscribed the seam, checking the elasticity as he went. "Very good, indeed. Now, the breast." He stepped back.

Harry began as before, with the exception of the shape, of course. He lowered the roughly ovoid object onto the expanse of conjured silver and began to settle it into place. He allowed it to spread out and added material until it reached about the size he thought it should be. He reached out to give it a prod to see if it had the proper amount of jiggle.

After it damped out, he was about to repeat the procedure when Poppy said, "Harry. If you don't stop dreaming, Hermione will have a hard time walking in a straight line."

At Harry's confused look, Poppy uncovered Hermione's remaining real breast. It was ample enough, encompassing about the same volume as an orange. Harry's creation, on the other hand, was more in the range of a grapefruit. "Oh," he said, preparing to make the adjustment. He paused, looking from one to the other before looking back at Poppy, as if to ask a question.

"Fix _this_ one, Harry," ordered Poppy, unsympathetically indicating the silver breast. She crossed her arms and stared him down.

"Alright," said Harry, a bit disgruntled. He swept his wand over the new breast and mournfully watched it shrinking away until it appeared about the same size as the other one. Again, he tapped it on the side. He then tapped the real one and compared the results. A wand wave or two later, he tapped the new one, again. Then back to the original equipment. After about five of these tests, he seemed satisfied with the results and finished up with the final color changes.

"That's remarkable," said Dr. Lorian, closely examining Hermione's breasts. He, unlike Harry, actually put a hand around each one and gave them a comparative shake.

"I'll handle that sort of thing in the future, thank you very much," said Harry, indignantly. He hadn't said it, but he was fairly unhappy with having three other men in the room while his wife was topless. If they thought they could play with her, too, they had better be prepared for the consequences.

"My apologies, Mr. Potter," said Dr. Lorian with a laugh. "I'll leave her in your hands."

"I would hope so," agreed Harry as he pulled the sheet up to restore Hermione's modesty.

* * *

In the Great Hall

"May I have your attention, please?" McGonagall stood behind the phoenix podium as she waited for her request to be granted. She had returned to Hogwarts in time to make this announcement in person. She would remain though dinner and then return to stay with Rufus and Greta that evening. Even with an age appropriate version of the attack, the fact that Hermione was so injured that she couldn't have visitors distressed Greta to the point of near panic. Her 'Miss Minerva' would attend to her comfort when she returned. For now, though, she had another duty to perform.

With the usual rapid reduction in chatter, the students quickly came to order. Perhaps they were able to make the connection between her forthcoming announcement and the fact that their tables had remained uncharacteristically empty.

"Thank you," began the Headmistress. "I'm afraid I don't have many details, but I think you should all know that there's been another attack." The resumption of murmuring forced her to stop for a moment, allowing her to notice that many pairs of eyes turned to the section of the Gryffindor table normally occupied by Harry and his usual group. The absence of all of them led to a fairly obvious conclusion that Minerva decided to address.

"No students were killed," she started, eliciting several sighs of relief, and also one or two groans of disappointment. "We did, however, lose two of our house elves; Jumper and Flower, as well as Professor Moody."

This time, there was a small uproar as the death of the popular, although misidentified educator was acknowledged. The elves, although substantially more involved in the comfort and well-being of the students, went virtually unnoticed. It was a good thing Hermione wasn't there.

McGonagall waited a few seconds before loudly clearing her throat. Once again, the room quieted. Clearing her throat, again, albeit with less volume and more authenticity, she said, "There _was_ an injury to a student. Hermione Potter was severely wounded in the battle. She's at a muggle hospital where they're better able to handle such a horrendous chest wound. She's currently expected to have a good chance of survival." This time, the hall remained virtually silent. This wasn't due to the lack of concern of the students. Several of the upper year girls put their hands to their mouths in shock as the seriousness of the injuries to the Head Girl were made evident by the extraordinary step of sending her to a muggle hospital coupled with the less than reassuring assessment of her chances of living.

"All of the other missing students are waiting with Harry while Hermione is in surgery," she finished. "I'm afraid that's all I can relate with any authority. I'd assume that more information will be available in the paper, tomorrow." She sat back down but quickly jumped back up.

"Excuse me for just one more moment," she said. "I think it only fair to warn, er, _some of you _that might be inclined to make unfortunate comments in the next day or so, that you might wish to reconsider. I'm afraid Harry wouldn't be quite as understanding as usual if he heard anything offensive and, judging by the Death Eaters that I saw when I visited the site of the attack, you wouldn't want to upset him." With a glance at the Slytherin table in general, and Zabini in particular, she sat back down. Shortly after she tapped her spot with her wand, the tables were covered in their usual abundance of food.

* * *

A short time later, back at St. George's Hospital.

Harry reentered the waiting room, both drained from the sights and exertions he had just experienced and invigorated from the knowledge that Hermione was doing about as well as could be expected and wouldn't have any significant outwards signs of her injuries.

"May we see her, now?" asked Emma, rushing up to Harry.

"Soon," said Harry. "They're doing whatever they do..." he waved vaguely back towards the operating room, "...after surgery and said we should wait here until they finish. She'll be in her own room in a bit and then we can see her all we want."

"Oh, thank goodness," said Molly, coming up behind to give Emma a hug. "It's... it's just such a relief."

"You can say that again," added Ron. He wasn't all that familiar with Hermione's parents as Harry so he contented himself with giving Honey a hug.

"I think I will," said Harry. "Thank goodness." Luna giggled while everyone else rolled their eyes. At least Harry was getting back to normal.

"And thank you," said Emma, giving Harry a hug. "From what I've heard about your powers, Hermione might not have survived without you."

Harry, knowing that the main danger had passed and that they had some time to kill, silently led Emma and Dan over to a group of chairs to clarify things a bit. When they had taken their seats, he began.

"My _help_, as you put it, has been both good _and_ bad for Hermione." He paused to gather his thoughts. He decided to restate the damage that had been inflicted on Hermione to be more clear. "When you first arrived, we told you she had a severe chest wound. That was accurate, but understated the seriousness of the injury. Odd as it may seem to you, I didn't want you to worry any more than you already were."

"But," said Dan, "we were already maxed out, I think. How could it have been worse?" Emma also waited nervously for the response.

"A chest wound implied... that the chest... was still there," replied Harry. "When Hermione pushed me out of the way of that spell, she had it go right _through_ her. It took out her right breast and lung as well as the ribs and shoulder blade. It went _straight through her_."

"Oh, my God!" cried Emma, collapsing into her chair with Dan rushing to embrace her. Clearly, they had envisioned something more akin to a bullet hole.

"Exactly," confirmed Harry. "It was... unbelievable." He took a moment to compose himself while the Grangers did the same. During this lull, an all too familiar voice broke the silence.

"Harry," sang out the syrupy voice in false sympathy. "It's just_ dreadful _what happened to Hermione. Why don't you tell me all about it?" It was quite possible they would be her last words, ever.

"Rita," said Harry as frost appeared on the windows. Turning slowly, he made a conscious, but unsteady effort to keep his hands tight against his sides as he confronted the last person he wished to talk with that night.

Luna, being the first, naturally, to get the drift of what might happen, realized that this would be her opportunity to help. "Why don't you let me talk with Miss Skeeter, Harry," she offered, taking the presumptuous, but protective, next step of moving next to the potentially combustible reporter. "I'll make sure that her story won't get out of hand."

Harry, who had his less than passive thoughts momentarily brought to a standstill by the events and comments of the last thirty seconds, came around enough to see reality. Although on better terms with the capricious reporter than in the past, he knew that an inappropriate question or comment from her could result in a momentary loss of his temper. A moment would be all he'd need to really get into trouble. Nevertheless, they had been in a major and very public battle. His and Hermione's participation was a large part of the whole story and something would need to be put in the paper about it.

"Thanks, Luna," said Harry, finally. "That's very kind of you." Turning to Rita, he added, "Luna knows most of what happened. If there are any holes in the story, have _her_ come and ask me."

Rita was confused by the unexpected change of her plans. Then again, she had already had her paradigm shifted for her earlier that afternoon. Luna's father, Rita's new boss, was a more reasonable man that most knew. He understood quite well that when a man's wife was potentially dying, the last thing he would want would be a reporter coming up five minutes later and asking him how he felt about it. Rita had been ordered specifically to keep her distance from Harry until the evening when, hopefully, the situation would have stabilized. She was told to use that time to find out all the other details that might be available. Then, she was to be respectful and ask if Harry wished to say anything about the attack. At that point, the ball would be in his court.

"Very well," said Rita, stiffly. "Perhaps we can have a more direct conversation in a day or so." Harry didn't reply, but after a few seconds, briefly nodded.

"This way, please," said Luna, leading the way out the door. Rita made a quick mental note of who was in the room and silently followed. Perhaps she'd be able to wheedle out a few more details individually.

Rita and Luna quickly found a side room and made themselves comfortable. Rita, having spent most of the day working on the straight news story, listened intently and took accurate notes as Luna filled in the scene from inside the shop. After about fifteen minutes, she had a fairly good idea of everything that had happened; more so, perhaps than did the aurors actually doing the investigation, if the truth were known.

The truth, though, didn't sell as many papers as innuendo. Pulling out a new parchment and her more creative green quill, Rita slid into her more comfortable personality and said, "Now that we have the stated facts, perhaps you could help me with a bit of analysis. For instance, how do we really know that Harry's version of the story is entirely accurate? He might have just jumped out of the way and that spell hit his wife by chance." She had an expression on her face that Luna could read quite clearly as belonging to someone who thought they knew the _real_ truth.

"Miss Skeeter," said Luna, with a slightly impatient tone to her voice, "I realize that you have a reputation for, shall we say _confrontational _interview techniques. That makes for interesting reading and the occasional glimmer of hidden truth from certain types of people. In this case, however, I'd keep any such theories to yourself, unless you want to get on the bad side of my father and, more importantly, Harry. One can fire you and the other can make you disappear, and I don't mean in a magical or temporary way."

Rita sat quietly for a moment, considering her options, before looking at her watch and exclaiming, "My. Look at the time." Getting up, she shook Luna's hand and said, "Well, I suppose I'd better be off writing my story. Thank you so much for your help." With that, she made a hasty exit.

* * *

"Alright," said Harry after Luna and Rita had left. "Let's see. Where were we?" He thought a moment before continuing. "Hermione had taken the full force of that spell and collapsed. It's possible, but not known, if my tears would have been able to repair that amount of damage. We'll never know for sure, but Poppy and the other healers think probably not. We were under attack so all I could do was reach..." He thought that enough time had passed for him to openly speak of the details but that wasn't quite the case. Taking a breath, he said, "I had to do something to stop the bleeding but didn't have much time. I reached into her chest and cauterized the biggest veins. I might have done some other things, but anything else was instinct. Within seconds, those outside the shop started attacking. From then on, all I could do was react to the Death Eaters. I kept my hand over her wound as much as possible and it seemed that it helped but, again, I don't really know."

"But she must be better now, right?" asked Dan, who was still in shock but at least able to speak.

"Yes, she is," said Harry. "They regrew the bones and sealed up her back. I replaced the front side. She'll be here for a few days but they say she'll recover pretty much back to normal."

"That's all good news," said Emma, now breathing again. "I don't see what makes you think your help did her any harm."

"Basically, I was talking about her lung," replied Harry. "As I said, if I had had the time to use tears, or even just brought her straight to St. Mungo's, her lung might have been restored. As it is, she only has the one left and that's the way it'll stay. The other one's gone for good."

Dan and Emma remained silent for a bit. This was a serious loss, but they had enough medical training to understand that it wasn't life threatening. Eventually, Emma said, "She can live without a lung, Harry. Under the circumstances, it's a miracle that she's alive."

"A miracle that either of you survived," added Dan.

"A miracle named Mad-eye," said Harry, softly. "We'd both be dead now if he hadn't saved us." He bowed his head in remembrance of the old man.

"We only met him the once," said Dan, remembering the meeting at Kings Cross Station, "but we'll honor his memory forever." He put his arm around Emma who nodded her agreement.

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that," said Harry. "If I knew him half as well as I think I did, he's boring every auror in Heaven with the tale of his last battle." Assuming a lower, gruff voice, he continued with "Damn fools walked straight into that trap. Put on their heels from the start and about to snuff it. Well, naturally, I had to save them. Fortunately, there were only forty or so Death Eaters." He laughed, grimly.

Everyone laughed with him. Dan and Emma just to join along, but the Weasleys because that's exactly what Mad-eye probably would say. The shift in mood helped everyone move on and look forward to the time of Hermione's recovery and leave the shock and pain of the attack behind.

It wasn't long before a nurse's aide came into the room. "Harry Potter?" she asked, looking around.

"That's me," said Harry, coming forward. Everyone else gathered around, as well.

"Ah, we're moving your wife to her room," said the young woman. "If you could follow me, I'll take you there." She stepped backwards toward the door.

"Oh, good," said Molly, stuffing her knitting into her bag. The others also prepared to follow.

"Please," said the aide. "Just her family, for now." She looked hopeful that the mob of red heads, well known for their proclivities towards short tempers, would understand.

"Define 'family'," said Molly, stepping closer. She may have come to her hair color later in life, but she had mastered it to a high degree.

"Er, I mean her husband or children," said the shrinking young girl. "Her _immediate_ family."

"We're her parents," said Emma, pulling forward with Dan. Turning to the others, she said, "They just don't want too many people in the way while they look after Hermione. We'll cycle through in shifts, if we have to." She had known that the Weasleys, both elder and younger, were part of Hermione's family, now, but she and Dan got the first slot along with Harry.

"Of course, dear," said Molly, giving her a quick hug. "Give her a hug for me, then." She took a half-step back, mostly hiding her disappointment.

"And a kiss from me," said Ron, rolling out of the way.

"We will," said Harry. He gathered up the Grangers and they all headed out the door.

Author's Note: This chapter didn't flow out very well at all. Eventually, it did get the job done. Hermione was healed. Two other things happened off screen. The number of hits to the story finally exceeded the number of words. I don't know if that means anything but it happened. Also, this chapter crossed the 1000 page mark in my word processor. Again, it's just a large round number but worth noting. Merry Christmas to everyone. I hope to get the next chapter out quicker.

Dad


	111. Chapter 111

Chapter 111 - Searching for Answers

November 22nd, 1997

Harry sat in the chair next to Hermione. He watched as the little ball in her respirator floated up and down in the tube leading to her mask. She'd need to breath air with an elevated amount of oxygen for a day or so to aid in her healing. It was also filtered to prevent infection. Harry was able to watch all of this because of a small spotlight dimly illuminating a sign taped to the intravenous stand. The stand, while performing its main duty of holding several bags, including a sedative to keep her quiet, antibiotics to fight infection and some sort of pain reducer, all of which connected to a single tube leading into her arm, also was positioned to display a large sign in bold print stating 'DON'T TALK'. She had more than a few sutures in her respiratory system that didn't need any more stress than necessary. If Hermione should awaken, the first thing she'd see would be the sign. Harry wanted to make sure the second thing she'd see would be him.

Technically speaking, he wasn't even supposed to be there. Visiting hours had ended at eight. Then again, as far as any muggle could tell, he _wasn't_ there. With the help of Dr. Lorian, they had seen to it that all of the equipment that needed periodic checking was on Hermione's left side, closest to the door. Harry, under his invisibility cloak, of course, sat on her right. Dan and Emma would have been harder to accommodate, not that they couldn't have worked something out, but assured that Hermione was safely on the mend, they had bowed to the truth of their ages instead of their wishes and found a nearby hotel for the night. Spending the afternoon and evening in hospital chairs had sufficiently stiffened up Dan's muscles that he determined that if they stayed for the night, too, they'd be checking _him_ in in the morning.

"Nurse Jenny is being coming, Harry Potter," whispered Millie from her post under the sink. She was also under a cloak, as was Tripper who was behind the linen hamper.

"I know," said Harry, drowsily. Despite being nearly self-hypnotized from his observation of the cyclic nature of the respirator, he had noticed when the nurse had come within his range a few seconds earlier. Harry roused himself sufficiently to straighten up in his chair. The hidden watchers only had to remain silent until the pretty young nurse finished with her checks. Then they'd be left alone for another hour.

The door, slightly ajar in the first place, swung open as the five foot nothing lass entered. She had a small flashlight in her hand to read the levels in the bags as well as to mark Hermione's chart. She did this and also ensured that the monitors were functioning properly before leaving. Above the door, the clock informed all who cared that it was currently a half hour past midnight.

Harry considered that despite his desire to be with his wife, the current level of excitement surrounding that task could only end with a very spooked Jenny eventually running down the hallway, screaming from the shock of hearing disembodied snores. With a resigned sigh, he rose and gave Hermione a brief kiss on her cheek. Turning to Millie, he said, "I'm going to be caught if I stay here. I'll return in the morning. Make sure that you and Tripper arrange for replacements before you're too tired to keep an eye out, too."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Millie. The Hogwarts Free Elves had become accustomed to the fairly new elvish idea of shifts to handle perpetual duties. Although not seriously fatigued at the moment, Millie and Tripper would hand over their duties in two hours so that fresh elves could maintain the level of alertness required to keep Mistress Hermione safe.

Harry was about to apparate to his bedroom in London when Hermione groaned slightly and tipped her head a degree to one side. Harry rushed over to see if she was awake. When she didn't produce any further activity, he sat back in his chair. Perhaps he would wait just a while longer.

* * *

While Harry stood vigil over his wife, another man also looked forward to a sleepless night. Mundungus Fletcher watched from a distant hiding spot in a grove of trees as an auror made the second visit to his house. He held something in his hand, but it was too dark to identify. Whatever it was, Dung was sure it was designed to determine whether or not he had returned home. That, of course, wouldn't be happening until this auror had left and he certainly wouldn't be there for long. When he had first made the attempt, his thieve's sixth sense had warned him to be wary. He had done so and been rewarded by witnessing the initial visit by the flatfoot. At that time, he had been more confused and, therefore, more worried.

Earlier that morning, he had intentionally removed himself from the area of London so as to not be nearby when the trap at Windsor Castle was sprung. He had breakfast at the Three Broomsticks and then wandered over to the Hog's Head in order to solidify his alibi. He visited with the other patrons of the bar until early in the afternoon when one of his more respectable compatriots, Sturgis Podmore, came briskly through the door.

Looking quickly, but not thoroughly around, he signaled for the proprietor, Aberforth Dumbledore, to join him at the unpopulated end of the bar. As luck would have it, this moved them closer to the dark corner in which Dung was having his third mead of the morning. He had long ago perfected his ability to listen while not seeming to do so and picked up some unexpected news.

"There's been an attack," whispered Sturgis. "About two hours ago. Fifty Death Eaters, I heard; maybe more." The whisper, perhaps intended to be just that, nevertheless contained enough excitement to carry it to the ears of Fletcher with ease. The news of an attack was no surprise to him, of course. The number participating in it seemed excessive, though.

Aberforth played the part of the dimwit, but was anything but. Staying in character, he continued to pour Sturgis his drink while nodding for him to continue.

"They attacked a shop on Diagon Alley," continued Sturgis. "Harry Potter was the target." This wasn't the story that Dung was expecting and he haphazardly dropped his mug onto the table. This caught the attention of both Aberforth and Sturgis.

"Dung," exclaimed Sturgis in surprise. "Come on over. You should hear this, too." He waved for the fellow Order member to join the other two.

With the trepidation of the not-quite-innocent, Dung rose and joined the small group. Deciding not to pretend he hadn't overheard, he said, "Whaz'll this abou'n attack?" He climbed up onto a convenient stool.

"It was a big one," gushed Podmore. "More like a battle than an attack, from what I heard. Young Harry was doing a bit of shopping with his missus somewhere on Diagon Alley when dozens of Death Eaters came out from everywhere. It sounds like his wife was hurt or killed right away; I don't know the details. Anyway, lots of regular folk got in the way while Potter fought them off."

"Were they alone?" asked Aberforth, quietly. His beard hid the movements of his lips from the others in the pub.

"Not sure," said Sturgis. "Mad-eye was either with them or nearby. According to Diggle, he was killed, too. Not sure I believe it, though. Would've took a lot to take him down."

"Sounds like they had a lot," commented Dung, trying to silently figure out how the plan had changed so drastically.

"S'pose so," said Sturgis. Slapping the counter top, he remembered his secondary mission. "That reminds me, Dung. Diggle mentioned that Remus wanted to talk to you. Sounded like he thought you might have heard something, with all your contacts."

Fletcher felt a chill run up his spine. Remus' bed warmer was in charge of the attack he had been expecting and informed on. A small operation like that, even with casualties, wouldn't have been worth mentioning when compared to a major operation like the assault on Harry Potter. It would have mattered to Remus, though, and he knew that Dung was present when it had been discussed. No good would come with meeting the ex-werewolf.

"You alright, Dung?" asked Sturgis. He had a concerned look on his face that contrasted with the more severe one on that of Aberforth.

"Me?" asked Fletcher. "Oh, no. I just remembered, er, I mean I suppose I'd better find Lupin. See what he wants and all that." He drained the remainder of his mug and, trying to not look quite as panicked as he was becoming, he rushed out the door.

Now, sitting in the present darkness, he reflected on how obvious he had been. If Remus hadn't fully suspected him before, he would by now. His days as a double agent would seem to have come to a close. He decided to wait until this auror left and then try to retrieve a few useful items from his home before going to ground.

* * *

While Dung was making his plans, another of his compatriots; make that _former_ compatriots, would have very much liked to go to ground as well. At least he'd like to be back on it. Devon Humphrey had been captured by one of the Hogwarts Free Elves before anything had happened the previous morning and had no idea what had happened since then or what would be happening in the future. From his surroundings, he assumed that he was in the Fortress of Solitude that his master had been searching for so unsuccessfully. The ice walls, floor and ceiling gave that impression, at least. His interrogator, after wasting most of the time when Humphrey was under the control of the Veritaserum by determining that they had an informant; that he had given them information that was used to plan an attack, and that the informant was indeed none other than Mundungus Fletcher; but he hadn't, so far as Humphrey knew, known anything about the attack that actually took place. By the time Remus had sorted that out, the Veritaserum had worn off and wouldn't be effective for at least a few days. In the meantime, Remus had wanted further details and wasn't too particular on how he got them. While not resorting to the draconian tactics used by Harry when he was desperately attempting to locate McGonagall, he had taken a page out of his, and as it turned out, his father's book resulting in Humphrey's currently inverted position, hovering about two feet over the floor.

"Let's review," said Remus. "Dung stops by Friday morning and talks to your superiors. He leaves and an hour or so later, you and a few of your friends are briefed on a mission to Windsor Castle to capture or kill some aurors. Correct so far?" He looked up from his notes.

"You know it is," responded Humphrey, his current swinging leaving him facing away from Lupin.

"Then, for no reason that you can determine," continued Remus, "Snape comes in, and after consulting with... let's see..." he referred to his notes, "Augustus Rookwood, the original plans are scrapped and a mad dash is made to prepare for a major battle on Diagon Alley the next morning." He looked up, again. This time, his timing was fortunate enough to see Humphrey's face as he slowly spun. It was quite red.

"Right. Right," agreed Humphrey, impatiently. "Say. Could we take a break? I need to go to the loo."

"Now," continued Remus, "did you see anyone talking to Snape before he summoned Rookwood?"

"What about a break?" asked Humphrey, thinking that Lupin might not have understood the urgency.

"When we're through," said Remus, calmly. "Now think. Who did Snape talk to?"

"I'm goin'ta pee my pants if you don't let me down," said Humphrey, becoming aware of the possibility.

"Be my guest," said Remus. "I suggest you answer my questions as quickly as possible, then, if you'd like to avoid that outcome."

"He didn't talk to anyone special," said a frantic Humphrey. "He called for Rookwood. He sent someone to check out the jewelry store. He sent a messenger to report to the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort wasn't there?" asked Lupin, surprised. That part of the story wasn't known.

"No," answered Humphrey. "He was in Europe, somewhere. Don't ask me where because I don't know."

"Europe," replied Lupin. "When did he return?"

"That same night," answered Humphrey. "Look. I've been answering your questions, alright? Let me go to the loo."

Remus thought for a second, but not about the request. With a flick of his wand, Humphrey fell to the floor. "Elf," he said.

"What can," began the elf when he arrived but Remus cut him off.

"Take this prisoner to the restroom," ordered Remus. When he's finished, return him to this cell." Looking at his watch, he then said, "Give him a meal if he wants one." They were done for the night. Remus wanted to consider all he had learned. One thing was sure; Voldemort had a knowledgeable source of inside information that he trusted enough to rush back from wherever he was in Europe at a moment's notice. It didn't seem like it was Dung, but he wasn't entirely sure. All of the remaining suspects were above suspicion. Then again, he had learned that lesson from Wormtail sixteen years earlier. No one was above suspicion.

* * *

A few hours later

Petunia Dursley blinked her eyes. It was still quite dark but she could sense through their bedroom 'window' that wherever it was displaying was nearing the beginning of dawn. Although her back was currently turned away, she could sense, perhaps due to the absence of the normal gravitational tug, that her husband was not beside her. Thinking that he might have decided to prepare a pre-breakfast snack, she rose, put on her robe and slippers and proceeded to the kitchen. The fire from the sitting room served as a nightlight for her journey so she arrived quickly and safely. Vernon wasn't there.

Checking the clock on the counter, she noted that it was slightly after six. Lighting a candle, she went back to their room; checking on the way to see if their pseudo-son, Karl, was in his. He wasn't.

Although an hour early, she proceeded to get dressed for greenhouse duty. She noticed in the process of doing so that Vernon's work overalls were as missing as he was. Packing a small lunch for herself and a larger one for her husband, she said, "Winky."

"What is Mistress Petunia being needing?" asked Winky, somewhat surprised at the earlier than usual summons, but not being caught off guard, having been up for an hour, anyway.

"Are Vernon and Karl working on their contraption?" she asked, grabbing an extra towel from the drawer as she planned her morning's activities.

"Yes, Mistress," replied Winky, confirming Petunia's suspicions.

"I see," said Petunia. "We'd better stop there before heading to the greenhouse." She held out her hand. Winky took it and they popped off.

Toing. Toing. Toing. The note being played was gradually rising in pitch to approach middle A. Vernon was turning a small turnbuckle while strumming a piece of piano wire that stretched across Hermione's huge map of Great Britain. A long shaft, mounted to a shorter one projecting from the table, loomed a fraction of an inch over the chart. It was balanced on precision bearings and counterbalanced by a stubby, but massive weight on the opposing side of the supporting shaft. A system of dials and disks allowed an exact measurement of its direction to a hundredth of a degree. An identical tower loomed from the map at Norwich in England and Tralee in Ireland. Those, however, remained to be finished.

"You've started early," commented Petunia after Vernon stepped back and nodded to her to acknowledge her arrival.

"We're getting close to finishing her up," said Vernon with obvious pride. "I should be ready to start the calibrations by Wednesday." He gave a slight push to the four hundred pound device and watched as it silently glided across the map.

"It looks... sturdy," said Petunia, not sure what would be the correct term.

"It has to be," explained Vernon. "I want consistency. Make it too flimsy and you'd never know if it was holding true. This setup should be good to a few yards, for the most part." He tightened a locknut on the end of the turnbuckle.

"You're the expert," said Petunia. She watched as he, along with Karl, went back to work. Karl stood on the map table at the far end of the beam. Looking straight down through a sighting tube, he indicated first one direction and then the other as Vernon manipulated the dials on the supporting shaft.

"Dear," she said tentatively as she delayed going to her greenhouse.

"Yes?" asked Vernon, not looking back but able to perform two tasks at once. He tightened the set screw on one disk and moved on to the next.

"I realize you're anxious to finish," continued Petunia, "but you must have gotten up at four o'clock or so. Why the rush?"

Vernon stopped what he was doing for a moment as he formulated what turned out to be a serious answer. Wiping his hands with a rag, he stepped over to his wife and said, "Those Dead Whatzits were waiting for them. Harry and Hermione used to be able to tell where they were. If they could have done that, maybe Hermione wouldn't be in a hospital with half of her body blown away. They're counting on me..." He turned and glanced at his machinery. "They're counting on being able to know where those blighters are, again. It's only good for one at a time, but it's better than they have now. I want it up and running so no one else gets hurt." He hung his head a bit as he thought of the few times he had called it a day early to get in a nap or a quick nine holes. If only ...

Petunia patted him on the shoulder and smiled warmly. Handing him his lunch, she and Winky popped off.

* * *

November 23rd, 1997

Morning in the Great Hall

Considering it was currently hosting a weekend breakfast, the noise level in the Great Hall was abnormally low. Although the occasional murmur still flittered out into the general assembly, the near continuous rustling of the pages was quite audible as scores of students read and reread the Daily Prophet's reports of the attack from the previous day. In one of life's ironies, Rita's story, despite being totally out of character for her, was one of her best. The plethora of small interviews from a wide variety of eyewitnesses and aurors, combined with the discreet, yet comprehensive information obtained from Luna, helped this article to almost literally ooze with concrete and verifiable tidbits that helped the readers fully understand exactly what had happened, who was involved and their current status. One detail had not been included, though, and Luna, Ginny and Neville had to fend off a nearly constant stream of students who had worked their way over to the upperclassmen section of the Gryffindor" table to discretely ask the same question.

"We don't know," said Ginny for the thirty-fourth time. It was, however, only the thirty-second time she said it impatiently. Standing up, so that everyone could hear her answer and perhaps refrain from extending her ordeal, she loudly stated, "Look; we don't know who tipped off the bloody Death Eaters. If we did, Harry would have stuffed their heart down their bloody throat by now." If she had been talking about anyone else, that would have been hyperbole.

"How do we know _anyone_ tipped them off?" asked Zabini, dropping his paper on the table with disdain. "Maybe they were just spotted by some alert lads and attacked." A few of the Slytherins nearby murmured their agreement at the premise.

"A few lads?" asked Ginny, incredulously. "There were dozens of Death Eaters in that ambush."

"So they say," added Loren Longshanks, derisively. "I find it hard to believe that even the_ Great Harry Potter _could have survived such a massive surprise attack; especially since his mudblood wasn't quite as lucky. Of course, we only have the word of the Daily Prophet for that account. Personally, I'd be interested to hear the _real_ story."

"That _is_ what happened," explained an overly patient Luna. "I worked with Miss Skeeter on that story myself."

"Well," said Blaise, "that's certainly good enough for me. If both Rita Skeeter and Luney Lovegood say it's so, it _must_ be true." All of the Slytherins laughed obnoxiously. Ginny was about to reply with a tactful response but Luna beat her to it.

"I know it might be difficult for some of you to understand how he did it," she began, not intending to have it sound the way that it did, "but I've talked with some..."

"Are you implying that we're thick?" asked Blaise, getting his hackles up.

"Are you suggesting that you aren't?" asked Ginny, her hands on her hips.

"Don't get started," suggested Neville, quietly. He had sensed all morning that Ginny wanted to blow off some steam and wasn't pleased that Blaise and Loren had volunteered to help.

"Neville's right, Ginny," added Luna. "We have a lot to..."

"You'd better listen to your friends," sneered out Blaise. "Potter isn't here to protect you, now."

"I can take care of the likes of you without any problem," snapped back Ginny, fingering her wand.

"This isn't the time," said Luna. "We ..."

"Why isn't this the time?" asked Loren, turning his attention to Luna. "Isn't little Nevie up to the task of backing her up? Then again, if the paper's accurate, maybe she'll have a chance to upgrade, again. If the mudblood dies, Potter would need a replacement."

The hall became instantly silent with the exception of three of the benches at the Gryffindor table crashing to the floor as they tipped. From one end to the other, every Gryffindor was standing with their wands pulled. Magic crackled on the tips of many as they waited for a sign; a word; in fact any excuse at all to unleash their anger at the Slytherins. A handful each of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff upperclassmen had risen as well, but most of those potentially in the crossfire tried to lower themselves out of the firing lanes.

Professor Sprout, not remotely having had the experience necessary to defuse such a situation, nevertheless rose and shouted, "Children! Please, uh, please don't... Well, just don't." Not exactly a Churchill moment. Why did Minerva have to pick this morning to stay in London?

Professor Coldiron, perhaps the only adult in the room with the ability to actually do something effective, sat back and watched as the scene unfolded before him. He had been expecting something like this for some time, albeit on a smaller scale, and felt the Slytherins had been asking for it. He might intervene later, if necessary.

Luna, sensing the nearness of the tipping point, pleaded for calm. "Please, everyone," she called, rushing quickly onto the top of the Ravenclaw table to stand in the center of the hall, shielding both sides with her body but only preventing the Gryffindors from firing. "This isn't necessary. We're all upset, but Hermione's going to be fine." She assessed the impact her words were having and found them wanting. Ginny, she had noticed, had become particularly incensed at the implication that she might have something to gain if Hermione didn't pull through. The main problem with the comment was that it had hit too close to the mark. Much to Ginny's shame, similar thoughts had entered her mind, unbidden. Slytherin House, on the other hand, had already spent far too much time backing down from the Potters, this year. If they gave way to a sixth-year girl with, so far as the general population knew, stability issues, then they would all be irrevocably branded as paper tigers; or worse yet; cowards. Blaise, although not pleased with his protege's escalation of inflammatory rhetoric, pondered all this as he stubbornly fingered the hilt of his wand.

The moment was frozen in time, waiting for the breeze from a gnat's belch to blow it this way or that.

Then...

* * *

At the same time, in London.

"She moved twice in the night," said Harry. "Around midnight, she tilted her head, and later on, she raised her hand a bit." Harry and his 'family', along with Hermione and hers, sat in the room next to Hermione's while discussing with Dr. Lorian the results of his just finished examination. He was one of three muggle surgeons in London that were aware of the magical community, but the only one based at St. George's, so he had to come in a bit earlier than he cared to in order to meet his Hippocratic responsibilities to look after his patient. The fact that they could all fit into what had recently been just a linen closet was not lost on him, but he had become familiar enough with magic to let it go while appreciating the extra space.

"When she raised her hand," asked Dr. Lorian, "did you notice any facial expressions? Pain, or maybe confusion?" He was jotting down several items on his notepad.

"No," responded Harry. "It was really quick; like this." He repeated his wife's earlier gesture.

"I see," said the doctor. Sitting back, he then said, "I think that we'll keep her on the same levels of pain medication for awhile. She's on the verge of consciousness, but not quite there. I also noticed no problems with infections or excessive bleeding." He picked up the clipboard next to him and wrote a short note.

"When will she wake up?" asked Emma. She was glad that Hermione wasn't in pain and had avoided some of the problems usually associated with major surgery, but she still wanted to hear her voice.

"I've given orders for the mild sedative to be discontinued at the start of the evening shift," explained the doctor. "It will remain in her system for a few hours, but she could begin to awaken by early tomorrow morning."

"What about the breathing tube?" asked Dan. He had once had one used on him and his first, second and third impulse upon awakening was to rip the bloody thing out.

"If she can tolerate it," began Dr. Lorian, "I'd like to leave it in for a couple more days. It's cleaner air than she could get on her own and it has a higher concentration of oxygen. It would be helpful to keep her oxygen level up until the one lung can start to take more load. However, I've already included on her chart that if it presents significant discomfort, any attending physician on duty at the time can order its removal without consulting with me."

"Can you tell those crazy healing assistants," asked Molly, showing her frustration with her most pressing concern, "that more than three people at a time can sit with her?" With up to a dozen people wishing to see Hermione at any given moment, and with Harry deciding to remain in the room, regardless, Molly didn't get a turn nearly as often as she had wanted.

Lorian laughed. "I think I can arrange that much," he said. "She doesn't have much in the way of external wounds so infection isn't likely. I'll change the orders to allow... up to six, I suppose." He made the note on the charts.

"Thanks," said Harry. He then had another, more selfish thought. "You say she won't be waking up until tomorrow?"

"That's what I'd expect," affirmed the doctor. "It could be as early as midnight, but I'd guess sometime tomorrow morning is more likely."

"Thanks," said Harry. "That should give me time to check in back at the fortress and, well, maybe grab a quick nap before tonight." He grinned guiltily when he had finished explaining his plans.

"That sounds like a good idea," said Emma. "Dan and I'll be glad to take the day shift." She settled into her chair as if anxious to get started just sitting there.

"We'll keep you company," said Molly, already working on the forty-fifth row of the extra-soft cashmere sweater she was making for Hermione.

"At least until Ginny drops by," added Arthur. "Why didn't she come with the two of you?" He looked at Ron and Honey for an answer.

"I think she was upset, like Mum, with the rules for visiting," said Ron. "Last night, it was either Harry and you two," he pointed at the Grangers; "Harry and you two," he indicated the elder Weasleys; "or Harry and us two," he pointed at himself. "She probably wanted to wait until she'd have a better chance."

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "I didn't think of..."

"Now don't go feeling bad for that," said Emma. "Of course you wanted to stay with your wife. I'm sure Ginny and Luna and... and... oh, what's that boy's name, again?"

"Neville," replied almost everyone else.

"Neville," repeated Emma. "I'm sure they all understood."

"I'll tell them that the rules have loosened up when I get..." said Harry before he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of an elf.

"Harry Potter," said a young and excitable elf from the beverage department. "Mistress Luna is being in danger."

"Take me to her," ordered Harry, holding out his hand without hesitation.

"Wait," said Ron and Molly, simultaneously, but it was too late. Harry and the elf had popped off.

Honey sat quietly for a second before asking, "Does he _ever_ look before he leaps?"

* * *

An instant later, in the Great Hall

Pop! The sound of the arrival of Harry Potter, along with the unseen and unnoticed elf, spooked the knot of Slytherins around Blaise Zabini into releasing a short barrage of painful and incapacitating spells. Harry had fortuitously materialized facing them but only had time to raise his right hand before they struck. Luna had instinctively rushed to his side when the numerous streaks of light sped their way and she clung to him as he placed his left arm around her, protectively.

The result of the short assault would have been very different had it been directed at anyone else, professor or student, in the hall. But it wasn't anyone else who was standing on the table in the middle of the Great Hall; it was Harry Potter and one of his dearest friends. A dozen splashes of colorful sparks and fire impacted against his palm as the spells, seemingly redirected to that point of contact, reached him while a blue glow encapsulated both Luna and himself in what was clearly a major shield. A half second later, Harry snapped his fingers and the wands of the attackers flung from their owner's grasp and landed in his outstretched hand where they immediately burst into flames. Quickly dropping them to the tabletop, Harry, with a furious look in his eyes, pulled his own wand. Every Slytherin, regardless of their culpability in the attack, dropped prone to the floor, but not due to any spell Harry had cast. He flicked the tip of his wand and, with a resounding crash, the massive dining table under which a quarter of the students of Hogwarts had taken refuge was flung high over their heads where it crashed against the wall behind them and burst apart in a hail of splinters. Harry then pulled back his arm in preparation of sending forth a more destructive attack.

"Stop, Harry!" shouted Luna, reaching out and putting her hand on his wand arm when it reached her on the back swing. "Don't hurt them." She held on in a restraining hug until he looked her in the eye. She could sense both his anger and concern and knew that he had been prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect her. He had, she also knew, already given a part of his life to do just that. That, above all else, worried her.

"You can stop," continued Luna, trying to assure him that the necessity of violence had passed. "I'm safe, now." She continued to hold on as his muscles relaxed. The omnipresent, and theretofore unnoticed crackle of magical energy that had been beckoned, dissipated, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. If felt not unlike the return of the sun through spent storm clouds.

"Come sit down," said Ginny, who had run over shortly after the table hit the wall. She knew that she was at least partly to blame for things getting out of hand and wanted to prevent further damage.

"Harry," said Professor Sprout, forgetting to use his surname in public, "I... ah, I'm sure you're aware that, uh..."

"What Professor Sprout's trying to get at," said Professor Coldiron, coming up behind her, "is to try to refrain from damaging school property when you're attacked."

"Oh," said Harry, turning to look at the pile of scrap lumber lying on the floor behind the slowly rising Slytherins. "Sorry about that. I was a bit surprised and might have overreacted." He waved his wand randomly, an action that would have brought a scowl to the face of his wife, a purist, and the long table reassembled itself amid the shouts and jostling of the students trying to avoid the major pieces returning to their places.

"I think overreacted would be an understatement," contributed a still shocked Professor Sprout.

"No, Pomona," said Coldiron. "All in all, I think Potter was remarkably gentle, all things considered."

"Gentle?" asked a truly shocked Zabini, coming over to plead his side. "He nearly killed us all."

"That's what I mean," explained Coldiron, coldly. "_You_ attacked _him_; unprovoked, the moment he appeared. His first response, after protecting Miss Lovegood, was to disarm you; not kill you. You should be happy it was just your wands that were burnt to a crisp."

"It also answers your question of how Harry survived the attack," added Ginny, unable to restrain herself. Coldiron nodded.

"I still..." began Zabini, upset that there didn't seem to be any punishment heading Harry's way, before he realized that he _had_ fired first and that Harry Potter, currently standing mere feet away, and with a bad attitude, had just demonstrated that he could probably kill him without moving a muscle. "Yes, Professor," he finished. "Please forgive the outburst." He turned away, looking for Longshanks, to make sure the git didn't give Potter an excuse to finish the job.

"So, how's Hermione?" asked Ginny as Neville and several other Gryffindors, as well as the professors nearby gathered around.

"Sleeping," replied Harry. "The healer said she might wake up sometime after midnight."

"So she's recovering okay?" asked Professor Sprout.

"It seems that way," said Harry. "I'm sorry, everyone, but I've been awake all night. If you don't mind, I need a quick lie down."

"Fair enough," said Ginny. "Your reception back here might have tired you out a bit, as well."

"Not really," replied Harry, honestly. "Oh, that reminds me. They've upped the visitors to six at a time if you wanted to visit."

"Great," said Ginny, smiling. "We'll head right over."

"After we check out a couple places," interjected Luna, remaining vague in the presence of so many others.

"Oh, that can wait," said Ginny, dismissively. "This is more important."

"I disagree," said Luna with a nod toward Harry that only Ginny could see. "I'll explain when we're in a more secluded area."

Ginny, while not having a clue, nevertheless had started to trust Luna's judgement. With a sigh, she said, "Well, okay then. But I want to finish up by this afternoon. Then, we _will _go see Hermione."

"Fair enough," agreed Luna. Turning to Harry, she said, "You'd better get your nap, Harry. You want to be rested when Hermione wakes up."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry, quickly walking out the door before leaving the deserted hall with a pop.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry for the long delay between chapters. It was partly Christmas, partly getting tired of working seven day weeks, partly a very persistant cold and partly writer's block. I hope to be back on schedule for awhile.

Dad


	112. Chapter 112

Chapter 112 - Welcome Back

November 23rd, 1997

The knocking on the door had become persistent. With reluctance, Parry rose from the sofa and dragged her feet over to the door. Opening it, she saw Cathy and her children waiting nervously outside. Oddly enough, she had just received some orders concerning her visitor that she hadn't liked and had contributed to her increasing depression. Nevertheless, she'd have to deal with it, but hadn't yet considered any sort of a plan. Best to put her off for the time being.

"Hi, Cathy," she said. "Sorry. I'm not really feeling in the mood for company, today. Hope you don't mind." She started to shut the door when Cathy spoke out.

"Oh, please, Parry," begged Cathy, trying to pull even closer to the door. "Everyone's turned against us. I need to see a friendly face; if only for a few minutes."

Parry was inclined to decline, but pushed the door open and stepped back, regardless. Cathy and her children rushed through.

"Oh, thank you," gushed Cathy, quickly taking a seat on the couch and setting Tracy down next to her. She didn't seem to realize that her stated wish had yet to be granted before she continued. "It's become too terrible to be around the other women. They want Mary to kick us out of ... Boys; sit down!" Cathy's male offspring quickly complied but began to fidget almost immediately.

"We've discussed this before," said Parry with an impatient tone in her voice. "Joe was a Death Eater. He..."

"They aren't on about that," interrupted Cathy. "At least not directly. You weren't out yesterday so maybe you haven't heard. There was an attack on Harry." She didn't notice, but she had a much more concerned expression on her face than did Parry.

"I saw something about it in the paper," said Parry, indicating the Daily Prophet setting on the coffee table. "I haven't read it, yet, though." She had been curious in only one detail. When she gathered from the headline that Harry Potter had survived, she lost interest. Only his death would release her from her obligation. The letter had verified that her handlers hadn't lost track of that fact, either.

The boys slipped off of their chair and began looking around.

"Ellie's back in her room, reading," said Parry to the children before they could set fire to the place. "Why don't you go see if she'd like to play a game or something."

"Sure, Miss Parry," said Seth as he and Jerome darted out of the room.

"Now," said Parry, "we can talk more frankly. Tell me about the attack, if you must." She picked up the tea she'd been sipping but failed to offer a cup to Cathy.

"It was massive," gushed Cathy, not noticing how disinterested her friend seemed to be in the subject. "About forty or so men were there. Harry and Hermione had entered a jewelry store when it started. Some were in the store, waiting, while others were outside on either side of the building. Obviously, they knew they were coming and our boys were all ready to go."

"You know," said Parry, sarcastically, "if you wanted the other women to accept you, it might help if you stopped referring to Death Eaters as 'our boys'. Just a thought."

"I suppose you're right," agreed Cathy, stung by the uncharacteristic snarkiness. "But they're blaming me personally. They think I told You-Know-Who that Harry and Hermione would be shopping yesterday. I think Mr. Lupin thinks so, too. He came by yesterday and we talked for quite a while."

"He must not believe you had anything to do with it, though," concluded Parry.

"Why do you say that?" asked Cathy, picking up a restless Tracy and bouncing her on her knee.

"Because you're still here," answered Parry. "If he thought you were some sort of a spy, he'd have had you thrown into their prison." Parry had figured that sequence out the moment she'd arrived. There would be no backing out of her role. Any attempt to flee or come clean would result in either her death or imprisonment.

"Oh," said Cathy. "I hadn't thought of that. It didn't seem to carry any weight with the others, though."

"Nothing will," said Parry. "They don't like the idea of having someone like you and your kids here. As far as I've seen, none of them has made any attempt to get to know you at all."

"No, they haven't," agreed Cathy, emphatically. "And the way they talk about Joe; right in front of our children. It hurts most because I'm sure if they didn't know he worked for You-Know-Who, they'd have liked him a lot."

"That's sort of the crux of the matter," explained Parry. "They're all widows because of You-Know-Who. So are we, I suppose. That's not something you can just get over, no matter how nice a particular Death Eater might be."

"You got over it," replied Cathy.

"You were the first person I met when I arrived," explained Parry. "I got to know you a bit before finding out you were the widow of a Death Eater. To me, you were just a mother with three rambunctious kids."

"That's what I am," affirmed Cathy. "I never wanted anyone to get hurt; from either side. Joe never talked about anything like that, either. From what he told me, he spent most of his time either running errands, watching certain places or, once in a while, cooking supper. When he was in the mood, he could make some of the best meals. Oh, you'd have really liked his beef stroganoff." She sat back for a moment, remembering one meal in particular.

"I'm sure I would have," agreed Parry. Deciding to pursue some of the information she was ordered to secure, she asked, "Has anybody said anything about stopping our shopping trips?"

Cathy was surprised at the mundane question, especially considering the dearth of information that Parry had on the shocking news from yesterday. "Well, no," she answered, slowly. "I'm not sure that anyone's even brought it up."

"That's good," said Parry. "I have a few things to pick up. You did, too, I believe."

"Yes," said Cathy. "Mostly things for the children, of course."

"Of course," repeated Parry. "You're planning on going Wednesday, right?"

"No," corrected Cathy. "Thursday afternoon."

"Oh, that's right," said Parry. "I'm set for Friday morning."

"It's too bad we can't go together," said Cathy. "Shopping's so much more fun with a friend."

"Isn't it, though," agreed Parry. "Maybe we can do that next time." She didn't want to have anything to do with Cathy's upcoming trip since it would be very difficult to explain why Cathy was abducted and she wasn't. One of the unspecified results of her orders then came into focus. There would be no 'next time.' Cathy wouldn't be coming back.

"I'd like that," agreed Cathy, happily reaching into her bag for a diaper. Tracy was certainly sticking with what she knew best.

"I'm sure it'll be great fun," said Parry, emotionlessly taking another sip as she watched Cathy remove the soiled diaper. What would happen to her children, she wondered. Then the air currents shifted, causing her to gasp out, "What in the world have you been feeding that girl?"

* * *

Later that morning, in Suffolk County

"Couldn't they make the bloody steps any steeper?" asked Ginny. The irregularly hewn, moss covered and, as noted, steep steps leading up to the entrance of Orford Castle were proving to be quite a challenge to the diminutive witch, given the slight mist that had been drifting down all day.

"I'm sure they could if they applied themselves," answered Luna, having to deal with both the treacherous stones and weather while concurrently looking about for unusually located doorways or other places of concealment. It didn't take long since Orford Castle wasn't much larger than the keep of an average castle.

"Personally," said Neville, "I'm just as glad they didn't." He was, unsurprisingly, sporting numerous cuts and scratches; three of which required treatment from his girlfriend. They were difficult to see, at the moment, due to his being covered nearly head to toe with a thin layer of slime; a memento of his two slides down the slippery grass embankment leading to the aforementioned stone stairs.

"We're nearly there," said Ginny, taking a breather on the last flat stone before the final run to the top. "Stop when you get here," she said to Neville, pointing down to where she stood. Neville nodded.

With a few more minor slips and grunts, the girls made it to the top and Neville made it to the rock. Ginny pulled her wand and signaled for him to finish climbing up while she stood at the ready to assist him if necessary. Her services weren't needed, though, and very soon they all stood in front of the massive oak door.

"Alohomora," incanted Luna, unlocking the entrance to the ancient structure. Neville gave the door a push and immediately fell at its threshold as his feet slipped out from underneath him.

"Bloody hell," muttered Neville as he staggered back to a standing position. "Is the floor level inside?" He followed Luna and Ginny into the relative darkness.

"It seems to be," answered Ginny, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the new levels of illumination. "Step over here for a moment, Neville." She indicated a spot that was receiving one of the four slivers of light currently hitting the floor from the slits high up on the walls. Neville complied, and with a pair of expert wand movements and one verbal and one silent charm, he was soon quite clean, dry and warm.

"Thanks, Ginny," said Neville, taking in a breath of relief before noticing a table and chairs setting in the middle of the main floor. With an irrationally guilty look around the quite empty and closed for the winter hall, he walked over and claimed one of the chairs for a quick break. The girls, although not quite as tired since they only had to traverse the path leading up to their destination just the once, nevertheless happily joined him.

"Well, Luna," said Ginny, brushing back her hair, "now that we've found the most secluded place in Great Britain, perhaps you'd like to explain what you were talking about earlier." Luna had rejected Ginny's original plan to visit Hermione in favor of doing a preliminary survey of a few of Harry's scheduled potential horcrux locations.

"The reasoning is a bit complicated," said Luna, "but in a nutshell, we need to make sure that Harry feels that progress is being made in the fight against Voldemort. It's especially important right now since he can't participate for awhile."

"Why is it so important?" asked Neville. "Surely he's more concerned about Hermione than searching the countryside for signs of Voldemort."

"He is and he isn't," explained Luna. "Right now, of course, he's concentrating on Hermione. That won't really change too much until she's out of the hospital and back with him; either at Hogwarts or in their home in London. In the meantime, he'll be sitting in her room, wasting time. That'll frustrate him."

"Surely, a week or so won't matter all that much," suggested Neville.

"But it will," countered Luna. "At least it will to Harry." At Neville and Ginny's continued confused looks, she explained, "Besides defeating Lord Voldemort, Harry's greatest goal is to keep his family and friends safe. In the past, how he did that depended on the circumstances. Sometimes he'd try to keep them away from danger entirely. Sometimes he had to protect them himself. In the case of Ginny, Hermione and McGonagall, he had to actually go retrieve them. In the end, though, he knew that the only way to ensure their lasting safety was to defeat Lord Voldemort; the sooner the better. The longer he lives, the more chances he'll have to hurt or kill Harry's friends."

"That's true," agreed Ginny, "in a general sense. But it's always been true. Why do you think it's more important now?"

"Because Harry began going down a different path since this latest attack," said Luna. "He's found another way to protect us. He's discovered that dead Death Eaters can't hurt anyone."

Ginny and Neville looked at each other. Neville asked the implied question. "I'm pretty sure that he knew that before. I mean, even I knew that much."

"Well, of course he knew that before," began Luna, "but it's moving up to the top of his list of ways to deal with them. After Hermione was hit, virtually everyone in that store was knocked down and temporarily disoriented or incapacitated. Harry could have easily stunned or petrified the Death Eaters. Instead, he killed them. Then, during the battle, he cast horrific spells to incinerate or dismember as many of the other attackers as he could. They were trying to kill him at the time so that's a bit more understandable, but the reason behind his choice of spells was the same. He wanted them dead so they'd be safe. Right now, at least in his mind, the best way to protect Hermione, and by extension, the rest of us from harm is to kill every Death Eater he comes across."

"I suppose that makes sense," said Ginny. She tried to determine the great danger that Luna saw but didn't see it. "So what's the problem with Harry killing Death Eaters?"

"If you're fighting for your life, it's okay to kill the enemy," explained Luna. "When you're backed into a corner, you do what you have to do. That wasn't what I saw in his eyes when I first made it to the hospital, though." She shuddered at the memory of that meeting.

Ginny and Neville looked at each other for a moment before Ginny shrugged and asked, "What was it you saw?" She could tell that it was something very serious.

"I saw," said Luna, "the _intent_ to kill. The _desire_ to actually go looking for them. It's never been there before now. When it was still up in the air on whether or not Hermione would live or die, Harry was a breath away from heading out and trying to kill them all."

"I'll admit that would be a bit on the extreme side," said Ginny. "I'm not sure I see as much wrong with it as you do." She waited for Luna's rebuttal.

"The problem," said Luna, "is where you'd ultimately end up. Who else do we know who wants to kill anyone who might be a threat to them or their associates?"

Ginny and Neville gave the question some thought. Eventually, Neville said, "Well, he's dead, now, but I suppose Mad-eye came the closest." Ginny looked up, not really thinking that was the answer but not having a viable alternative.

"Voldemort," said Luna in mild irritation.

"Oh," said Neville and Ginny, simultaneously. They felt a little silly for not having come up with that on their own.

"I don't think Harry'd ever go dark," added Ginny, dismissively. "He's one of the good guys."

"This morning," stated Luna, "Harry was an eye blink away from killing every Slytherin in the Great Hall; from Zabini on down the line. That was in response to an attempt to harm me. I'm just one of his friends. When Hermione gets back, anyone who looks at her cross-eyed will be taking their life in their hands."

"But why the big change?" asked Neville. "I mean, I know Hermione was almost killed, and all, but it's not the first time. Last summer, when she was kidnaped; and at the attack at Umbridge's house, she was almost killed, as well."

"You're mistaken," corrected Luna. "Hermione wasn't almost killed in either of those other incidents. She was just in danger of being killed. This time she almost died. Anyone else would have, in fact. If Harry hadn't been with her, she'd have never made it to St. Mungo's."

"I understand the difference," said Ginny. "So how does this relate to why we're sitting in this toy castle discussing it?"

Luna laughed. "That's a good one. Toy castle." She smiled as she looked about the fairly small room that made up the Great Hall. Ginny waited patiently for a few seconds until Luna returned to business.

"There are two reasons. First, Harry's discouraged about the whole hunt we're all on," explained Luna, choosing her words vaguely since Ginny and Neville, except knowing the name, didn't know all of the details about the significance of the horcruxes. "He thought it was almost over. Then, he found out that it might take years." She blushed a bit; most unusual for her, and added, "I'm afraid that's my fault."

"You did something that will make it take years to find all of these horcrux things?" asked Neville.

"No," answered Luna. "I just pointed out something that he hadn't considered. Harry thought they only had to find six horcruxes. Four had already been accounted for, one way or the other, so he was hopeful that they'd be successful in the relatively near future. What I did was ask why they wouldn't be replaced, once Voldemort found out some were missing."

"And they didn't have an answer to that?" asked Neville.

"Unfortunately, they did," said Luna. "The answer was that he probably _would_ replace them."

"If they're that important," agreed Ginny, "I suppose that's true."

"Which means that they have no idea how many there are," said Luna. "In theory, there could be hundreds. At this point, we're just trying to find as many as we can. We'll never be able to know if we have them all."

"That makes sense," commented Neville. "If there's no limit to how many of these things he could have, it'd be impossible to know if you got them all."

"More or less," agreed Luna. "That's part of it, at least. On the plus side, there's still one they know about that just has to be retrieved. After that, they hope to find the last of the original ones. Achieving either goal would help. For the time being, we have to do what we can to advance things if Harry's to be protected."

"Protected?' asked Ginny. "Protected from what?"

"From himself," answered Luna. "You've got to see it from his point of view. He's the number one target for Voldemort and even if he isn't that easy to kill, those near him tend to get in the way. His quest is looking more like a career than a project. Because of this, his focus is turning more towards the individual battles. He wants to end them quickly and decisively."

"Before any of the good guys get hurt," finished Ginny.

"Exactly," said Luna, leaning in. "It's how he's doing it that worries me. Something's changed during the attack at the jewelry store besides his attitude about killing his enemies. He's done something to drastically increase his power. I had a feeling that I didn't understand yesterday. He felt more, uh, dangerous, I guess, but I didn't understand why. I couldn't figure it out until the attack at breakfast this morning. Then everything finally came into focus."

"I'll agree he seemed more powerful than normal," said Neville. "He barely flinched when all those spells hit his hand."

"I'm pretty sure they didn't all aim at his hand, either," added Ginny. "Deflecting a spell isn't easy, but they were just sucked into that spot like it was nothing. And that shield just popping up like that, without a wand."

"He was using himself up to do it," said Luna. "You two weren't there, but when we all met to discuss how Harry had survived being trapped in that mountain, something else came up in passing. The second elf that went on the trip with them, I forget her name, did something to save Hermione, Ron and Honey. They said she used her life force to get the power to eject them from some sort of a tunnel that was filling up with lava. The effort killed the elf, but it saved the rest of them. Harry mentioned that he and Professor Dumbledore had talked about that. Love and life, he said, would increase the power of a spell. You can always get more love, but if you use up too much of your life, you die; like the elf. Somehow, Harry's started to do just that. He must have done so during the battle, of course. There's no other way to explain their survival. It was necessary and he had no choice. This morning, however, he did it again. I could feel it."

"Do you think he knows he's doing this?" asked Neville.

"He must," answered Luna. "He was the one who explained it to the rest of us."

"Then why would he keep doing it?" asked Ginny. If he knows it'll eventually kill him, why would he do it?"

"Because it works," answered Luna. "If he uses up just a bit of his life with a spell, it becomes nearly unstoppable. He's also been forced into it enough to learn how to do it on command, instead of by instinct. That's what has me worried. In the past, Harry used his love to give his spells their power. Now, he's using up his life, instead. It's much more effective, but it's also more dangerous; both for himself and anyone on the receiving end."

"Like the Slytherins," finished Ginny, nodding in understanding.

"Exactly," agreed Luna. "Combine his power with the attitude that he'll never be able to permanently defeat Voldemort and the logical next step would be to set him back to square one. If all of Voldemort's men were dead, it would be that much harder for him to kill Harry's friends. The fact that it might kill Harry to do it wouldn't stop him."

"Well," said Neville, not quite sure where to go from here. "I guess I don't know where to go from here."

"The three of us," said Luna, "have to check out this toy castle." She giggled a bit as Ginny rolled her eyes. "That's so Harry will feel things are still advancing. After that," she continued, "probably after Hermione's recovered a bit, I have to convince Harry to take a trip with one of his special friends." Ginny and Neville both looked confused at the statement but Luna had no intentions of elaborating.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Hermione's room.

"It sounds like Hermione had better recover, and soon." Rufus had listened along with Minerva as Professor Sprout gave her honest, if embarrassing, account of the escalation of events that culminated with the near eradication of Slytherin House. While the headmistress had taken the proper grave tone throughout, the Minister of Magic had nearly fallen off his seat twice in enthusiastic bursts of laughter.

"I'm sure that would help Harry to curb his temper," agreed Minerva, giving her boyfriend; make that paramour, a sharp look, "but it could have quite easily gotten out of hand. Without the intervention of Miss Lovegood, the results might not have been so humorous."

"I'm quite in agreement, Minerva," said Pomona. "In fact, I think it might be prudent for you to choose another assistant headmistress. I'm afraid I've proven just how incapable I am at the job." She seemed somewhat ashamed of her lack of effectiveness, but also a bit eager to avoid similar events in the future.

"Nonsense," disagreed Minerva. "You'll just have to try to act a bit sooner to calm things when the barbs start to fly."

"I suppose so," agreed Pomona, grudgingly. "It just all happened so fast." She waved her arms uselessly.

"That's when things usually go south," interjected Rufus. "There probably wasn't anything you could have done, anyway."

"That might be true," allowed Pomona. "It was hard to keep track of who was currently stirring the pot the hardest. Blaise was definitely antagonistic, but Ginny was more than a little complicit, as well."

"Just nerves, most likely," concluded Minerva, having decided that the confrontation was mutual in nature. "I think everyone's learned their lesson."

A short time later, Dan and Emma returned. "We're back," said Emma, unnecessarily. She set her purse on the counter next to the sink. "They didn't allow take-out at the restaurant or we'd have brought you something." Taking off her jacket, she walked over and ran her hand gently over her daughter's forehead. There was no response.

"We're fine, yet," replied Minerva. "Depending on your preference, it either hasn't been that long since lunch or it won't be long until supper." By consequence of Harry's nap and Greta's Sunday School class, Dan and Emma had been left alone with Hermione over the lunch hour. Not wishing to leave her with no one but the elves, they waited for someone to come before leaving for their meal.

"Has she shown any signs of waking?" asked Dan, also checking on Hermione before sitting down.

"We heard a sound or two," answered Minerva, "but when we looked, she had stopped." She looked over at her sleeping student and sighed. "This'll be the longest day, I'd expect. It's hardest to just sit and wait for something. Knowing that she'll be waking soon is comforting, though."

"It is," agreed Emma, "although I don't think my heart will truly slow down until I hear her voice."

"True enough," said Rufus. Looking at his watch, he added, "I suppose I'd better check in at the Ministry. Reports are still coming in from the various investigations." He rose and gave Minerva a questioning shrug. She answered by rising, as well.

"So who's turn is it next on the schedule?" asked Minerva. The most concerned parties had made plans so that Hermione would never be alone. Of course, there would also be the occasional drop-ins, as well.

"We're officially on duty from four until six," said Emma, pulling out a slip of paper, "then Arthur and Molly until eight, followed by Ron and Honey until ten. Harry plans to spend the night, again, of course. We relieve him at seven tomorrow morning. By then, Hermione should be awake."

"Ginny, Luna and Neville are also planning on stopping by," added Pomona. "In fact, they were discussing that just before... well, you know." She blushed, not wishing to rehash the events of that morning.

"I'd expect Harry to stop in before ten," said Rufus. "If you see him..." He paused, looking down. "If you see him, let him know that Mad-eye's wake is tomorrow night at the Leaky Cauldron. Mad-eye's buying from eight until ten. After that, we're on our own." He smiled grimly.

"Will do," said Dan. "We know how to get to the Leaky Cauldron. Would anyone object if we showed up to pay our respects?"

"Too bad for them if they do," responded Rufus. "Mad-eye never looked down on muggles when he was alive so we won't be doing it for him now that he's dead." He took Minerva's hand in preparation to leaving.

"I'll be going, too," said Pomona, also rising. "I have to prepare my Fire Iris seedlings for the fourth years, tomorrow."

With a quick round of goodbye's, the magical members of the room prepared to apparate to their intermediate destinations and with a soft 'pop', they were still there; surprised by the unexpected arrival of Harry.

"Oh, my," he exclaimed, surprised in his turn by the number of people in the room. "Sorry," he added, contritely, "I didn't mean to startle anyone." He had assumed that they had all been shocked to their feet by his arrival.

"I don't remember screaming," said Rufus, smiling as he patted Harry on the shoulder in greeting. "From what I've heard, though, you didn't get much of a nap." He sat back down, intending to have at least a brief chat with the new arrival. Minerva and Pomona followed suit.

"I got a few hours in," said Harry. He looked around and, surprisingly, found a spare chair. "I woke up a bit ago and had Winky bring me a few sandwiches." A little more seriously, he added, "She brought the paper, too." He held up the opened daily to the page five article titled 'Elderly Couple Among the Dead.'

"Yes," agreed Minerva. "That was a sad story, I'll have to agree."

"They were all sad," added Harry. "I've been so worried about Hermione that I hadn't even thought that several families are making funeral arrangements, today. Jim and Ruby, especially, were so happy together. They were retiring and everything. Now..." He hung his head, tossing the paper sadly onto the corner table.

"Speaking of making arrangements," said Rufus, "Mad-eye's wake is tomorrow night at the Leaky Cauldron. I don't think anyone would expect you to spend a lot of time there, especially if Hermione's awake, but I'm sure the family would appreciate it if you could stop by."

"Of course I'll come," said Harry, immediately. "Mad-eye saved our lives." Thinking for a moment, he asked, "Did he leave behind anyone that would need some assistance? An elderly mother or whatever?"

"Just his pet snake, Reggie," replied Rufus. "I imagine one of his nephews will take him in, though."

"He had a pet snake?" asked Harry, surprised.

"He was more of a partner, actually," answered Rufus. "Mad-eye never took him anywhere or even showed him much affection; at least not while I was around, but he did appreciate that Reggie kept the local rats at bay. Reggie, for his part, probably appreciated having a warm, safe place to stay."

"I suppose," agreed Harry. "Will he be at the wake?"

Rufus looked confused, as he should have. "I don't think so, Harry. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," replied Harry, honestly. "I thought it might be nice if someone explained to him that Mad-eye was dead and that he'd have to find a new place to stay."

"This _is_ a snake you're talking about, right?" asked Dan. It was pretty clear that that was the case, but he still didn't think he'd heard right.

"Of course," replied Harry. "Didn't Hermione ever mention that I can talk to snakes?"

"Must have never come up," answered Emma, dryly.

"Oh," said Harry, not catching the tone. "I've been able to do that since I was ten. Probably longer than that, actually. First one I talked to was a boa constrictor that lived at the zoo." He thought to himself for a second before muttering, "I wonder if he ever made it."

"Made it?" asked Pomona. She'd never spent too much time just chatting with Harry. If this was the way most of his conversations went, she thought she was better off that way.

"To South America," answered Harry. "The sign said that was where he would have been from if he hadn't been born in the zoo. He wanted to go there and I set him free."

"I see," said the herbologist. "Well, now that you're here, I suppose I'd better head back and see if the castle's still in one piece." She smirked at Harry to make sure he knew what she was talking about. He did.

"Hey," he responded good-naturedly, "they started it."

"So I heard," added McGonagall, dryly. "I _am_ glad that neither you nor Miss Lovegood were injured, but I would suggest your response to such a feeble attack could be more limited in the future."

"Yes, ma'am," mumbled Harry, contritely.

"Before we go," said Rufus, reaching into his pocket, "I have something of Hermione's." He looked down and opened the new box to reveal the glittering ring with its brand new diamond. "Tonks said that the old woman was proud of this. She said she spoke happily to her of her husband's abilities during the time before she... well..." He let it go at that and just handed Harry the ring.

Rufus didn't realize it, but the brief speech shifted Harry's perspective just enough to prevent him from hurling that ring; that accursed ring that had started it all, into the nearest rubbish bin. The thought that it was the last work of a kindly old man who was foolish enough to befriend Harry moved it to the category of cherished heirloom. "Thanks," said Harry, pocketing the box. "I'll give it back to her when she wakes up."

With a chaste hug from the professors and a pat on the shoulder from the Minister of Magic, he was soon left with just the Grangers and guards for company. Now that Rufus was gone, the rocking chair and ottoman became available. With a quick move to unashamedly secure it for himself, he plopped his butt down in comfort, tossing his feet up in comfort before beginning to sway to and fro.

Dan, who had been lusting after that same rocker since his return, (Rufus had, after all, taken over occupancy only after Dan and Emma had left to find some nourishment better than could be had in a hospital) shifted uncomfortably in his straight backed, Naugahyde clad chair before saying, "So, Harry; what's all this about an attack?"

"It wasn't much of an attack," replied Harry, modestly. "Apparently, a discussion between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins got a bit out of hand and they were facing off across the Great Hall. Luna; she's a friend of ours, jumped up on a table between them, for some reason, to get them to stop. I don't think they would've actually cursed each other, except in the verbal sense, but an elf thought otherwise and popped in here to get me. He just said that Luna was in danger; no details." He sighed with a grim grin before continuing. "So off we go. The next thing I know, I'm standing on a table next to Luna and a dozen or so Slytherins are standing there with their wands out. I must have startled them because they opened fire immediately. I protected Luna and took their wands away. It ticked me off, though; being attacked and all, and I, well, ended up causing a bit of property damage." He smiled, impishly.

"Is that what the other witch meant by seeing if the castle was still in one piece?" asked Emma. She sipped a Dr. Pepper she'd bought at a vending machine they passed on their way back.

"Yes," said Harry, leaning back and rocking a bit more automatically. "That was a bit of an overstatement, though." He paused a second before adding, "It was a dining table that took the brunt of my retaliation... not the castle." He thought a second more before amending, "I guess I did _technically_... hit the castle _with..._ the table. The walls are, ah, stone... though so, ah... let's see." He had closed his eyes to concentrate. "The walls... didn't get, uh, damaged...so..."

Dan and Emma smiled as they watched their still tired, and now quite comfortable and relaxed son-in-law fade off to sleep.

* * *

Later that afternoon, at the Voldemort stronghold near Nine Banks.

Severus Snape scanned the hastily written letter that one of his men, Howard Dinsdale, had brought him. It was from Dinsdale's daughter, Laura, who was currently a fourth year student at Hogwarts. Although nearly a foot long, Snape had finished reading and re-reading the note within thirty seconds of it being placed in his hands.

"You were correct to bring this to my attention, Dinsdale," commended Snape. "The Dark Lord will be very pleased."

Dinsdale smiled. With a quick bow, he left to return to his normal duties. Snape watched him leave before returning one last time to the letter. With a quick decision as to the urgency he should assign to the note, he rose and proceeded to the Dark Lord's rooms.

"Enter," came the sleepy, and somewhat irritated reply a few seconds after Snape had knocked. As was common with many other septuagenarians, Voldemort enjoyed a short lie down after his evening meal. He was seldom disturbed.

Hoping that his master would share his opinion on the importance of the young girl's dispatch, Snape entered the room. Voldemort had already risen and was pretending he had been looking out the window. "My Lord," he said, "we've received a letter detailing a strange occurrence at Hogwarts." He handed the letter to Voldemort.

The Dark Lord looked briefly at the parchment before setting it discreetly on his desk. The added distance brought it into focus and he was able to finish in short order. Picking it back up with interest, he asked, "Has this been corroborated by anyone else?"

"Not yet, my Lord," replied Snape. "The incident only occurred this morning. The girl had a private owl at her disposal or we wouldn't have received it until tomorrow with the normal morning post."

"Have any men with children in school send off letters immediately," ordered Voldemort. "Ask for more specifics." He looked back at the scroll clutched in his hand.

"Yes, Master," replied Snape. He turned to leave.

"I'd also like to see an actual memory of the attack," added the Dark Lord. "See if anyone is able to get away long enough to provide one."

"That might prove difficult in the short run, Master," said Snape. At Voldemort's look, he added, "I merely meant that all of the older sons and daughters of your Death Eaters have already joined your ranks. The currently enrolled students with direct ties to your followers are fairly young. It is unlikely that they would be allowed out of the castle on their own."

Voldemort thought on this for a moment before a slight smile appeared on his face. "I believe Miss Dinsdale is about to receive some bad news. It seems her father has had a tragic accident and she'll need to come home for the funeral."

"If I might offer a suggestion, Master," said Snape. "Dinsdale has proven himself to be a fairly competent servant." Voldemort gave Snape a severe look as he was displeased with having an order questioned. Before he could act, though, Snape continued with, "His wife, on the other hand, used to help out in the kitchen. Now that we have Dinky..." He let the rest imply itself.

Voldemort thought for a second before nodding his agreement. "Very well. See to it that it appears to be an accident, but I want it to happen this evening."

"Very good, My Lord," said Snape. Turning, he left the room to arrange a murder.

* * *

Back in Hermione's room, just after ten o'clock.

"Well, I suppose we'd better get back." Honey had been hinting for about ten minutes with little success. She had a class first period and needed to go over her notes and get some sleep. Finally, she had decided to come out and just say it.

"If you insist," agreed Ron, grumpily. "I'd like to find a WC before we go, though." He and Harry had both sipped butterbeers for most of the two hour visit.

"Certainly, dear," said Honey, getting up to push him out in search of a rest room.

"I'd probably better do that," offered Harry. "This is a muggle hospital, after all. They wouldn't take too kindly to having a woman entering the men's room."

"Probably not," agreed Ron. He wasn't exactly enthused about using a muggle rest room in the first place. Goodness knows what sort of strange methods they'd developed to compensate for their magical deficiencies.

"Why don't you just wait until we get back to the flat?" asked Honey, reasonably.

"Apparition puts a little more pressure on my bladder than I care to deal with, right now," replied Ron. In other words, he had to go and go soon.

"Let's be off," said Harry, rising up and grabbing the wheelchair by the handles. He was familiar with the layout of this floor of the hospital and knew where the best disabled stalls were located.

Honey waited in the room with Hermione and the elves. In her mind, she was anticipating her classes. One class in particular, the seventh year NEWT class, had her worried. She realized with a tinge of embarrassment that she had grown a bit too dependent on a crutch named Hermione. When a particularly convoluted question was asked or a multi-phase transfiguration was required, it had become all too easy to just say, 'Who'd like to demonstrate? Hermione? Very well.' Now, she'd have to do it all herself.

While Honey was ruminating, the level of sedatives in the blood stream of a certain witch had been gradually lowered by her kidneys until the synapses in her brain took a vote and decided it was time to all work together, again. In the back of her mind, she had thought she had heard Harry talking. But now that she'd moved to the front, she heard nothing. A few seconds passed as she brought more of her brain online. Analyzing her current state, she decided that she felt no pain. That was good. Or was it? The last thing she remembered, she was in quite a bit of pain. Right now, she felt nothing. She felt nothing and she heard nothing. Was she dead? She hoped not. Perhaps it was time to try to open her eyes. Yes, that would be a good idea. Open her eyes. Now how do you do that? She couldn't remember at the moment so she moved on down her checklist to calling for help. She tried to put her mouth into the proper position and met with her first sensation; resistance. She couldn't close her lips or move her tongue to form any words. This was due to the breathing tube currently down her throat but she didn't know that. The panic of having a foreign object in her mouth caused her eyes to automatically open as the first pangs of panic set in. Ouch. The light was so bright. She closed her eyes again but her brain told her to keep trying to open them until everything nulled out. She blinked repeatedly. Each time, the light, though still bright, got a bit more tolerable until she was able to identify the light as not a light at all. It was a piece of paper. She couldn't see what it was attached to, but it did carry some good advice: 'DON'T TALK'. She grunted slightly in acknowledgment.

"Hermione," shouted Honey, quietly. "You're awake. How are you feeling? No, wait; you aren't supposed to talk. _Don't talk_. Can I get you anything? Don't answer. Let's see, what to do; what to do. I'll go find... No, I can't do that; he's in the men's room with Ron. Who should I call? Don't answer that."

"I'm in Hell," thought Hermione.

She noticed a blur race around to her right and, slightly turning her head, she saw the door shut. She looked around as her vision improved. It looked like a hospital room; a _muggle_ hospital room. Why in the world would she have been brought here instead of St. Mungo's? She couldn't guess. Turning her attention back to herself, she tried to lift her hand. It felt like it was tied to a brick, but it did seem to move a bit. She then tried to wiggle her foot. The sensation of having the sheet glide over her toes let her know that she wasn't paralyzed. She then crossed her eyes and examine the tube in her mouth. It went up over her left ear and out of sight. Either a feeding or a breathing tube, she determined. She remembered that her chest had hurt the most. Couldn't she breathe without the help of this tube? She didn't think she was having difficulties but couldn't really tell. Moving on, she saw the intravenous tube leading into her right arm. It led back to several bags suspended from the hanger that also featured the sign that she'd seen before anything else. She was trying to read the labels on the bags when the door swung open forcefully and a most familiar and sought after face came into view.

"Welcome back," said Harry, a few tears being drowned out by the glare of his huge smile.

* * *

Author's Note:

Four and a half years ago, I started to write this story. It was in response to a challenge by my daughter to see who could write the better book. It was also started the week that I was forced to put my mother, who had Alzheimer's Disease, in the county nursing home. This story gave me an escape valve, literally, from the real world that was all too uncomfortable. I tell you this so to explain why it has take nearly two months to post this next chapter. My mother was finally released from the prison of Alzhaimer's in February. She's back with my father, now, and better off. I took a short break to reflect and get my life back in order. I'm back now and hope to have more frequent updates. As long as I'm at it, I'll warn you all that there will be one more long break in the future. When the final scene dawns, I'll stop publishing until the story is finished. It might be three chapters or it might be ten, but I want to make sure it ends the way I envision it without inadvertantly writing myself into a corner and not being able to fix it. A lot will be going on and I just want to be careful. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll start on the next one.

Dad


	113. Chapter 113

Chapter 113 - Hats off to Mad-eye

November 23rd, 1997

Hermione lay on her bed, awake but drowsy; confused but calm; weak but pain free. This last part was hardest to understand. All she currently remembered about her recent history was the intense agony. There was more, she knew, but none of it came to mind just now. Harry stood next to her, his smile bringing joy to her soul. She was soaking it in, of course, but still wanted to know what circumstances had brought her to this muggle hospital room. Not being able to ask, though, made it less likely that she'd find out. For now, she just enjoyed having Harry holding her hand. Perhaps he'd say something in a bit.

Harry, for his part, didn't have any plans other than letting an ocean of relief wash over him. The assurances of the doctors that Hermione was fine; that she'd just need some rest; that she'd be back to normal before they knew it, were just empty words until now. He understood it all intellectually, well enough. He trusted Poppy, especially, to give him the straight dope. But now; now that Hermione had awoken and he'd seen the light back in her eyes; now, it was finally true.

Ron sat in his borrowed wheelchair on the opposite side from Harry. Honey stood behind him with her hands resting on the handles, but she could still tell that he was at least close to tears, if not already there. Ron had reached out to rest his right hand on Hermione's shoulder. He did so gently, of course, lest the added weight would cause any discomfort, but it was obvious he wanted some sort of physical proof that she was back with them.

Honey, although relieved herself that Hermione was on the mend, couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit jealous when she noticed the emotional response her husband was generating, especially since it was hard for her to get anything out of him. Well, that wasn't entirely true, she admitted. Whenever they spoke of their son (it was a logical assumption), she could sense the pride and anticipation in his eyes. Perhaps she could learn to accept the immutable fact that Hermione was extremely important to her husband and move on.

After a few minutes, Hermione decided that her husband and friends were, in fact, not going to tell her anything without some prodding. Although right handed, she didn't want to disturb either the intravenous tubes or Harry, who was holding that appendage, so she began to slowly raise her left hand and wave it back and forth in precisely the same manner Ron had done when he had wanted a quill and paper in similar circumstances.

"I'm right here," said Harry, grasping her other hand a bit tighter. Hermione rolled her eyes, ever so slightly.

"I think she knows that," said Honey, giving Hermione some false hope that the former blonde might have a clue. "Maybe she's imagining that her cat is sitting next to her." Hermione silently sighed.

"It might just be tremors or something," suggested Ron. "I had that problem for a day or... No, wait. I don't think it's that." Hermione hadn't stopped shaking her hand, but had made it into a weak fist.

"She wants a quill," said Harry, jumping up to go through his pockets. The others followed his example and very soon a quill, a bottle of ink and a piece of parchment were produced. Harry dipped the quill in the ink and handed it to Hermione.

Writing wrong-handed, be it from right to left or left to right, isn't the easiest thing to do in the first place. Trying it after awakening from a major injury and anesthesia proved fruitless. Her hieroglyphs did little to convey her thoughts, so despite a slight internal debate on the advisability of the procedure, she pulled her left arm onto her stomach and passed the tip of the quill to her encumbered right hand. From this more normal position, she could write, without having to look, two words.

"What happened?" read Harry. "Well," he began, trying to think of a suitable response, "I suppose quite a bit." He put the writing supplies on the table and made himself comfortable in his chair. Deciding where to start, he said, "We walked into the Sarus' store to pick up your ring. They were having a heck of a sale and the place was packed. After a few seconds, I picked up on the fact that Ruby wasn't Ruby. Something happened behind us and I turned around. The elves had stunned two men; I guess they were Death Eaters. Anyway, the one impersonating Ruby must have got a spell out when I wasn't looking. You pushed..." Harry choked up; still unable to just come out and state that particular fact. He turned away, hiding his attempt to stay his tears.

Hermione had known this much of the story, of course, but was also moved by her husband's distress. She looked to Ron, imploring him to understand that he should help Harry by this part of the tale. Shockingly, he understood.

"You pushed Harry out of the path of the spell and took it yourself," said Ron, quietly. He, too, was having some difficulty actually saying it out loud, but managed. "Then, about fifty or so Death Eaters attacked." He looked at Harry who had come around by now and said, "I'm afraid I'm still a little fuzzy on how you lived more than five seconds after that, mate. Are you okay to carry on?"

Harry took a breath and nodded. Turning back fully, he continued. "When you hit the floor, I went totally instinctive. I basically was thinking 'Back off!' and everyone in the shop was flung against a wall." He paused to think. "It all happened so fast. I think I killed all the Death Eaters in the shop while they were down. It wasn't long at all, though, before the spells were flying in from outside. Jumper and... ah, now what was her name?"

"Flower," offered Millie, sadly.

"Thanks, Millie," said Harry, unaware that he had been reminded of Flower's name by her mother. "Flower. The two of them were repelling that attack before I could do much with you. I definitely didn't have time for tears and we couldn't apparate away. Did I mention that? One of them died to put up the anti-apparition ward. Like I said, a lot happened all at once. Anyway, all I could do was try to stop some of the bleeding. While I was doing that, or maybe a little after, there was a big blast that killed Jumper."

"Hmm?" asked Hermione. She was surprised by this first disclosure of the casualties that they had suffered.

"Uh, huh," affirmed Harry. "I couldn't see much since I was in an awkward position, but that blast must have killed him. It wasn't long after that when Flower died."

"Owa?" asked Hermione as best she could. She, unlike Harry, had spent some time with the tiny elf and had liked her.

"Yes," replied Harry, sadly. "Jumper had said earlier that help was coming, but from far away. That would have been Ron and some of the commandoes. Without any support, though, and right away, we were dead. I couldn't even see anything and could only fire blindly. I'd pretty much given up, when..." Again, he was unable to tell her of yet another person who had died to save them.

"Mad-eye," said Ron, noticing how eager Hermione was to hear the end of the story. "Mad-eye was nearby. He came in on a broom. I'm not sure what he did, but, knowing Mad-eye, it wasn't very pleasant." He chuckled, grimly. "Anyway..."

"Anyway," interrupted Harry, "by the time they got him, I was on my feet and Ron and the elves were closing in. The survivors popped away."

"Ah ai?" asked Hermione.

"Mad-eye was killed," said Harry, gently. Hermione was understandably upset by this news so Harry, remembering what Rufus had told him, said, "Rufus said that it was Mad-eye's hope, when his time came, to die turning the tide in a hopeless situation. He got his wish." This, oddly enough, was easy for Harry to recount since it was so believably true. The old codger certainly didn't want to just die in his sleep. "His wake is tomorrow night."

Hermione was brought to tears by all of this news and raised, or tried to raise, actually, her hand to wipe her eyes. Harry bent over and brushed them away. "I know it's hard," he said. "It was a normal day of shopping and meetings. Nothing was supposed to happen at all." He held onto her hand a while until she calmed herself.

"It's late," said Honey. "You just woke up and everyone's going to want to see you in the morning. Perhaps you should try to rest, for now."

Hermione wasn't particularly tired, having just spent a day and a half unconscious, but she wanted time to come to terms with what she had just learned and nodded her head in agreement.

"That's a good idea," said Harry. "Your folks will be back first thing in the morning. They've been staying at hotels at night. Dan, especially, needs to stretch out for a few hours after sitting in these hospital chairs all day."

Hermione wondered just how long she had been out. They were shopping around noon and it was night, now, but her parents had already spent at least one night in a hotel. She didn't feel too terrible, right now, but the damage must have been pretty serious. Maybe she _should_ take it easy. She nodded.

"Fair enough," said Harry. "Tripper," he ordered. "Take Ron and Honey back to their rooms. When you get there, go ahead and stay at Hogwarts. I'll call for another elf to cover for you."

"Another elf?" asked Tripper, wondering what he might have done to deserve replacement.

"There isn't anything wrong with you," explained Harry. "I just happen to know of someone who hasn't been able to visit Hermione, but who desperately wants to."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Tripper. With a final volley of good wishes and goodbyes, the three of them popped off.

"Get ready for a hug," said Harry, smiling. "Come here, Winky."

* * *

November 24th, 1997

Theresa Logan approached the gates of Hogwarts. Although the sun hadn't yet popped into view, the pre-dawn light was sufficient to see by. The time was nearing 8 AM which meant that the students and staff were preparing for breakfast. She had been sent to retrieve the daughter of a good friend. Helen Dinsdale had been killed late last night in a freak accident that was still more or less a mystery. A few of the men had been taking turns firing spells at an old suit of armor. It was all good fun and everyone was laughing and shouting. She had been speaking to Helen, herself, not ten minutes before the accident. Then, during a particularly boisterous round, one of the spells caused the armor to fly apart in a blinding blast. Everyone covered their eyes from the intensity. When they were able to see again, Helen had already started to slump over in her chair; a nasty burn across her chest. Although several healing spells were tried immediately, she was already dead. Tragic.

Howard was besides himself with grief, of course. It was a generally understood fact of life that the Death Eaters, mostly men, would be in danger of being killed. Their wives were more or less prepared for this and, within reasonable limits, accepted it when it came. Not so for the reverse. Howard wept for a good hour; his friends surrounding and comforting him, until Snape suggested that he retrieve his daughter from school. By this time, of course, it was nearing 2 AM. Howard said he'd wait until morning. This upset Snape, for some reason, but he quickly let it go. By the time morning arrived, it had been deduced that if a Death Eater showed up at the gates of Hogwarts, it was likely that he wouldn't be coming back, regardless of the reason for being there. Therefore, Theresa was sent to bring back Laura Dinsdale.

"Hello?" she called, tentatively. No one was in sight, but she didn't have many other options. She could see Hagrid's hut, of course, but no response was forthcoming. She called again. This time, the four-legged companion of the half-giant came thundering out.

"Woof! Woof! Wooof!" he shouted, but Mrs. Logan didn't speak canine.

"Are you there, Hagrid?" she called to the hut; this time much louder than before.

Hagrid wasn't there. He had gone to the castle for breakfast. His other main roommate, though, came out to check on what was causing all the hubbub. The door, though already Hagrid-sized, would have to be enlarged if this would continue to be possible. In fact, Hagrid had already cleared a place near his hut to make an entirely new dwelling for his large friend.

Kristy, though still a cub by dragon standards, had been properly instructed by her 'Mum' to handle visitors when Hagrid wasn't around. Stretching her wings in relief, she trotted over to the gate. She knew that she couldn't actually speak to most people but Hagrid had taken care of that.

Theresa, reasonably, backed up in fright at the sight of a dragon, even a tiny one like Kristy, moving towards her. She was about to run for her life when she was distracted by a clicking sound. Looking back around, she saw the aforementioned dragon tapping one of her claws on a large metal post with a sign attached. It read:

'The dragon's name is Kristy.

Please give her your message.'

Kristy stood patiently and, more importantly, quietly by while Theresa read the sign. After she'd finished, Theresa looked at Kristy in mild disbelief. Kristy gave her what passed as a smile to dragons. With few other options, Theresa shrugged and said, "I.. I'm here to pick up a student. There's been an accident and I'm here to take her to her father."

Kristy nodded, and with what looked for all the world like a wink and a thumbs up with her right foreclaw, she turned around and hopped off into the air.

While she waited, Theresa looked through the gate at her old stomping grounds. Not too much had changed. The whomping willow was a bit larger. Hagrid's hut showed the damage from the fire from earlier that year. The north side looked different. She couldn't be sure since she wasn't familiar with the spell used to bring up old memories, but she didn't remember seeing that tall parapet protruding out from Ravenclaw Tower before. Then again, it had been fourteen years since she'd given Hogwarts much thought.

After about five minutes, she could see the overly large shape of Hagrid walking down the path to the gate. He was eating some sort of fowl leg while clutching three more similar items in his left hand. Crossing over the treetops, merrily pursuing two of the school's owls, was Kristy. She wasn't allowed to actually catch them, mind you, but she did enjoy the chase. How the owls felt about it was anyone's guess.

"G'mornin' miss," said Hagrid as he reached the gate. Stuffing the remainder of his breakfast into a pocket, he reached into another and pulled out a ring with several enormous keys on it. Quickly moving to one of the largest and most ornate, he unlocked the gates and allowed Theresa to pass through.

"Les'ee, now," said Hagrid, scratching his beard. "Why you're Lisa Thatcher, airn ya?"

"Theresa," corrected Theresa, still pleased she was remembered. "I'm Theresa Logan, now. I married Jim about six years ago."

"Thas great," replied Hagrid, smiling broadly. "Always thou ya would. Anyway, Headmistress McGonagall said fer ya ta meet 'er in the entrance hall. Ya best not be keepin'er waitin'." Hagrid swung the gates shut again.

"Thank you, Hagrid," replied Theresa as she looked down the path. The criss-crossing of the shadows, both small and large, left her a little disquieted, but she proceeded.

Being still in the early stages of a fall Scottish dawn, the air was quite too chilly to be allowed unfettered access to the castle, so Theresa, quite understandably, pulled out her wand to open the oversized oak doors. With a blue flash, the wand leapt out of her hand and into the bushes, nearby. Theresa nearly fell over backwards in surprise but managed to maintain her balance. After a moment to catch her breath, she gathered herself and went to look for her wand.

After a few seconds, the doors began to silently open up and Headmistress McGonagall stepped through. She glanced around and, after locating her former student, she went to stand next to her.

"Good Morning, Miss Thatcher," said McGonagall. "I expect you're looking for your wand?"

"Yes," replied Theresa. "I tried to open the doors and it flew out of my hands." She held back another clump of branches to see if they hid her property.

Minerva summoned the errant wand and returned it to the visitor. "It happens every time," she explained. "The wards on the school forbid unauthorized access, you see." She pulled her robes closer around her and said, "Perhaps we should go inside where it's warmer." Not waiting for a reply, the Headmistress returned to the warmth of the entrance hall.

As they entered the castle and the doors began to close, Theresa said, "I'm afraid I've come with bad news, Professor. Last night, there was a terrible accident and..." She took a breath to calm herself and regain her voice. "Helen," she continued, "Helen Dinsdale was killed."

"Laura's mother?" asked McGonagall, equally shocked.

"I'm afraid so," replied Theresa, sadly. "I still don't really know how it happened. Everyone was having a good time. Some of the men were taking turns firing spells at an old suit of armor when 'Poof'; it burst apart in a flash." She held her arms up in the traditional gesture of something going 'poof'. "A moment later, Helen fell over, dead. We figure it was some sort of a freak ricochet or something." She shrugged, sadly.

"Oh, dear," said McGonagall. "That's such a tragedy. Of course, accidents usually are." She stepped to the door of the Great Hall and said, "Mr. Hiller. Could you come here, please?"

Jeff Hiller, a first year Ravenclaw who had managed to spend more than his share of detentions with the Headmistress, got up and proceeded through the doors. He wondered what he had done this time. Actually, he wondered what he had been _caught_ doing.

"Mr. Hiller will show you to my office," said McGonagall to Theresa. Turning to her trouble-making student, she added, "The password is still Cheshire. You may return to breakfast when you're finished."

"Yes, ma'am," responded Hiller, relieved. He and Theresa left as McGonagall steeled herself for one of her least favorite activities. Taking a calming breath, she went in search of her student.

* * *

Back in London

"Tilt your head back a bit more, please," instructed Dr. Lorian. Hermione complied. After another few seconds of nearly gagging, she was free of the breathing tube.

"Thank you," she said with a weak, rasping voice.

"Don't talk, yet," ordered the doctor, setting the corrugated tube on the nearby tray. A nurse took it, tray and all and left the room.

"Just nod or shake," instructed Dr. Lorian. "Are you having any difficulty breathing?"

Hermione took a breath and seemed unsure. She took another one. Not being able to explain, she gestured over her chest and tried to imply her impression.

"It feels funny?" asked the doctor. Hermione nodded. "No pain, though?" Again, a nod; this time with a shrug. "Just a bit, eh?" asked the doctor. A nod. Dr. Lorian took out his stethoscope. Rubbing it on his jacket, he placed it against her chest, just over her left breast. "Take a slow, deep breath," he ordered. Hermione complied, but was soon coughing.

Emma rushed to put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. She had been told that Hermione shouldn't try to move too much during this first day awake. After a bit, the cough had resolved itself and Hermione was back to normal.

"Let's try that again," said Dr. Lorian. "This time let's just do normal breaths." Hermione nodded and the doctor went back to work. After a minute or so he switched sides, but only focused on one spot on the right. Everyone but Hermione knew why.

"I don't hear any leaks," he declared, leaning back and taking the tubes out of his ears. "That's a good sign, of course, but we can't rule out the possibility that some might spring up after the inflammation subsides."

"How long do you think that will take?" asked Harry.

"Two or three days," replied Dr. Lorian. "For the most part, at least. We'll know by Thursday, at the latest, if anything is going to give some trouble."

Hermione started to speak but caught herself. Looking around, she pointed at the calendar. It was Molly who was first out of the gate.

"It's Monday," she said, answering her question. "You were brought in Saturday, around noon." Hermione nodded.

"I'll stop in, again, before my shift ends," said Dr. Lorian, beginning to gather his things.

Hermione started to tap on her bed frame. When she got the doctor's attention, she waved her hand over her chest and gave an exaggerated shrug.

"Didn't they tell you about the damage?" asked Dr. Lorian, looking at the others.

"She knows she was hit," said Harry, "but we didn't tell her how bad." He looked down at his wife, adding, "We didn't know if it was in her best interest to know the whole story, right away."

Hermione looked down at her chest. Everything _looked_ alright. The hospital gown was covering her, of course, but the bumps seemed to be in the right places.

"She's up to a bit of it, at least," said Dr. Lorian, looking at his watch, and then at Hermione. "I'm sorry, but I really don't have too much time to spare before my next patient. I'll leave it to your family to give you the general story. I'll come back around two o'clock and answer any medical questions you might have." Hermione nodded. After another few seconds to see if he'd forgotten anything, Dr. Lorian left the room.

Hermione looked up at the four people she had available. Her parents were there, of course, as well as Harry. Molly was the only Weasley who was free for a visit, though, since Arthur and Honey had jobs and Ron had classes. Harry was given the one excused day off by McGonagall, but was expected to return on Tuesday.

"Let's see," said Harry, the most familiar with the entire tale. "I told you that you were hit with a spell." Hermione nodded. "It was a pretty powerful one; orange, I think. Anyway, it blew a hole right through you."

Hermione nodded, again. She was thinking, as did her parents, that her wound was something akin to a bullet hole. It explained the concern for leaks and everything.

"Well," continued Harry, not sure if he should try to lead up to this next part or not, "we were under attack almost instantly. I didn't have time for much; definitely not enough time for tears, so I, ah, reached into your chest and tried to cauterize the biggest veins. You were bleeding so badly that I just didn't know what else to do."

Emma and Dan both tensed up at the rehashing of the discussion about the wound, but Hermione was more confused than upset. Holding up her hand, she gestured at first Harry's hand and then placed her hand on her chest with a confused shrug. Perhaps Harry meant he put his finger in her wound.

"I know," he said, perhaps not completely understanding what she was getting at. "I couldn't see all that well, with the blood and everything, but I knew your lung was gone, at the least. Your heart was pumping out a lot of blood so I knew that you'd be dead in seconds without plugging some of the leaks. There were three or four big ones with a lot of little ones along the edges. I sealed the largest ones the best I could, but had to start paying attention to the battle just after."

Hermione didn't really know what to make of this. She looked down at her chest. Again, as best she could tell with the gown in the way, everything looked in place. Ignoring the discomfort, she tilted her head even further forward and, using her stronger left hand, she raised up her gown enough to take a peek. One, two. Yes; they were both there. No holes, either. Again, she looked up to Harry for an explanation.

"Look," he said, "you'll just have to take my word for it." He looked around for some ideas on how to proceed. "Don't you remember _anything_?" he asked. He had to admit; if she only remembered walking into the shop and then waking up here, it was a hard story to sell."

Hermione gestured for a quill and parchment. When situated comfortably, she wrote, 'I remember waking once and being happy that you were okay.' She smiled up at Harry.

"I remember that, too," said Harry, beaming back at her. "You said you loved me."

'I do,' mouthed Hermione. She then got her no-nonsense look and circled her right breast with her finger. She then waited.

"Perhaps we were right in the first place," suggested Emma. "It might be too soon to talk about that." Everyone nodded. Well, almost everyone. Hermione slowly shook her head before pointing at her chest, again. Emphatically.

"Alright," surrendered Harry. He held up both hands, placing his thumbs together on the bottom and his fingertips together on the top; making about a six inch diameter circle. "The hole was this big. It took out your right breast and everything behind it."

Hermione looked at Harry's hands. From her point of view, it looked like you could have driven a lorry through them. She just stared for a dozen seconds before, without adjusting her gaze, she reached over and touched each breast in turn. This action was repeated twice more before she made known her desire for the return of the parchment. Molly retrieved them but Harry stopped Hermione from exerting herself, divining the question.

"They feel different because I replaced the right one," explained Harry. He gathered his thoughts and continued. "When we got to St. Mungo's, it was all they could do to stop the bleeding. In fact, it was harder than it should have been. When I used my magic to slow it down, I made it difficult for the healers to fix it properly. That's why you're here at St. George's instead of St. Mungo's. You're stitched up in spots instead of healed normally. You'll have to take it very easy for a few days for the wounds to naturally begin to seal."

Dan and Emma nodded understandingly at what to them would be the normal progression of Hermione's recovery, but Molly shuddered. Sewing people up. How barbaric.

Hermione thought about this before nodding. She took another look at her breasts before scribbling a note.

Harry read it and laughed. "You know me only too well. To answer your question, it was because Poppy made me shrink the new one. I wanted to make them match the other way," he added, blushing.

"What was that all about?" asked Dan as Molly and Emma both chuckled. When no one seemed inclined to answer, he took the note from Harry. It read, 'Then why can I still see my toes?'

"I think that might be enough, for now," suggested Dan, embarrassed.

"I agree," agreed Harry. Hermione had quite a revelation concerning the severity of her wounds and he thought she should come to terms with it, along with what was to come, in stages. The last part had ended with a bit of humor and he thought it was a good place to pause.

Hermione didn't agree, at first, but the two most important men in her life did, so she decided to let them make the decision. She did, however, have one piece of business to attend to that was quite pressing. Picking up her quill, she wrote, 'When's breakfast?'

* * *

Later that day

"He's ordered a general alert," said Tonks. She was having lunch with Remus at a Liverpool pub. It was a fairly modest establishment, but with a reputation for making the best ploughman's lunch in northern England, probably due to the exclusive use of Branston pickles.

"Thanks," said Remus, taking the teapot from the waiter that had come up behind Tonks. After they had regained some privacy, he said, "That should help. If all of the aurors are on the lookout, it shouldn't take long to find the git."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," replied Tonks before taking another small bite. Filling her cup, she continued with, "Dung's pretty good at disappearing when he needs to."

"He _needs_ to, alright," replied Remus with a scowl. "Idiot wasn't that high up on my list until I found out that Sturgis specifically told him I wanted a chat. A guilty conscience is all that comes to mind to explain his continued absence." He took a ripping bite out of his roll.

"Maybe," said Tonks. "Then again, maybe this is just him playing the part of a spy. If it looks like _we_ want a piece of him, then he'd gain credibility with the other side."

"I think he's playing the part of a spy, alright," agreed Remus, disingenuously, "but not for the right side."

Tonks thought about that for a bit before responding. "You're probably right," she agreed, pouring some cream into her tea. "You usually are. One way or the other, it won't take long to find out what he's been up to, _once we catch up to him_."

"Too true," agreed Remus. "The alert should help. Speaking of which, I must say that having Scrimgeour actually being helpful is, ah, well, helpful."

Tonks laughed. "I'll have to agree with that. Of course he has his reasons."

"Oh," replied Remus. "I have noticed that he's taken a substantial personal interest in the case. He was there this morning when I dropped by to visit Harry and Hermione. Are these reasons state secrets or could you enlighten me?"

"Common knowledge," stated Tonks, scooping some sugar into her tea. "At least among the aurors." She looked around, conspiratorially. Then, leaning in with a softer voice, she said, "You don't have to spend too much time when the two of them are together to realize that Rufus thinks the world of Harry. Hermione, too, for that matter. That goes both ways, of course. The part of the story that a lot of people haven't connected yet is how the romance between Scrimgeour and McGonagall plays into everything." She took another bite.

"I'm not sure I understand how that ties in, either," replied Remus.

"Well," replied Tonks, "The word is that wedding bells are in their future; Rufus and Minerva, that is. Maybe by the end of the year. With Minerva as his wife and Harry and Hermione as surrogate children; not to mention Greta as a legitimate grandchild, he's reconstructed his whole family."

Remus paused his lunch long enough to consider this. "I can't say you're crazy," he said, "about this, at least. Well, good luck to him, I say. As much as I disliked him before we all started to get behind each other, he's turned out to be alright."

"Surprising, isn't it," replied Tonks, popping in her last bit of cheese. "Now, down to the important business at hand. What shall we have for dessert?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass on dessert," said Remus. "Some sort of trouble with the widows. Mrs. Geneva and I have a meeting scheduled with a group of them at one."

"Pity," said Tonks with a sigh. "I guess I'll have to have a different type of dessert, then." She looked at the nearby cart of pastries.

"What do you..." began Remus before stopping as he got the drift on what he'd be missing. Looking at his watch, he said, "If we hurry..."

* * *

At the same time, in the Voldemort stronghold at Ninebanks

"Have a seat here, dear," ordered Theresa, kindly. She pulled out a chair next to a small table in the entryway of the main building. "I'll see if I can find Howard." She looked around quickly to see if anyone nearby looked particularly knowledgeable. Finding no one with the proper characteristics, she headed on into the depths of the structure.

Within 15 seconds, almost as if he had been watching and waiting for just the right opportunity, Snape entered the room through a side door and strode directly over to the weeping child.

"Follow me, Miss Dinsdale," intoned Snape. "I'll take you to your father." Without a moment spared for compassion, pity or even a backwards glance, he left the room through the same passage from which he had just entered. Not having time to think, nor many alternate options, Laura followed.

The corridor was plain to the point of austere, with no exterior windows to soften the ambience. Passages occasionally led off to one side or the other, but lacked any hint of illumination that might have revealed their purpose ultimate destinations.

After encountering two mandatory turns; one right and one left; the duo came to a stop in front of an oldish, wood plank door with iron hinges. Snape knocked.

"Enter," came a hissing, fairly high-pitched voice that, had she ever heard it before, Laura would have immediately recognized as that of the Dark Lord. Snape opened the door, which swung out, and mutely gestured for Laura to precede him into the room.

The room was, in a nutshell, austere. A single chair, occupied by Voldemort was positioned next to the sole table. On the table sat four small glass vials, illuminated by a single candle residing in a snake-themed candlestick. None of this registered with the young girl who only had eyes, swollen and bloodshot as they were, for her father. She ran for him at once.

Howard Dinsdale didn't immediately respond. After a short pause, and a slight, unnoticed wave of Voldemort's wand, he stepped forward and gave his daughter a firm, albeit unsatisfactory hug. Releasing her, he stepped back to his original position and gestured towards his master.

"I'm afraid your father is too distraught to speak, at the moment," said the Dark Lord with a silkily insincere voice. "However, please accept my condolences on the tragic death of your mother. Her loss has been felt by us all." He had heard similar expressions of sympathy passed amongst the friends and families of his Death Eaters after various deaths and decided to plagiarize the sentiment. His original plan had been for the young girl's father to do most of the talking, but it had turned out to be more difficult than he had expected to properly guide the emotionally distraught man into saying and doing just the right things.

"Thank you," whimpered Laura, trying to elicit some more meaningful comfort from her father. He remained silent and motionless.

"I'm sure the two of you would like to be off by yourselves," continued Voldemort, "which I completely understand. However, since you're here, I would like for you to do me a favor."

"A favor?" asked a confused and weepy Laura.

"A small one," continued Voldemort. "You wrote a letter to your parents in which you described an incident with another young girl who was, it would seem, about to be attacked. You stated that Harry Potter appeared out of nowhere and not only protected this girl, but disarmed and nearly killed a dozen or more of the alleged attackers. Do I have the story right?"

Laura nodded. Surely, this could wait for a bit.

"It's quite unbelievable, on the face of it," continued Voldemort. "I'd like to see for myself, if you don't mind. Severus will instruct you." He gestured towards Snape with the tip of his wand.

"Pro... Professor Snape?" asked Laura, glancing at the ex-Potions Master.

"Yes," replied Voldemort with his mocking smile. "_Professor _Snape." He then sat back in his chair and waited.

"It's a fairly simple procedure," began Snape, picking up a vial. "You need to calm your mind sufficiently to remember the incident as clearly as possible. Then, you cast the spell Effingo Memoria non-verbally. This will enhance your concentration and allow you to see the memory in your mind as ..." He paused.

"Pay attention!" snapped Voldemort. Laura, who had initially been confused, was now becoming quite upset at having to participate in this seemingly unimportant exercise instead of being consoled by her strangely emotionless father. Her tears were falling freely, now, and her emotions were running high.

"Perhaps we should wait for a more suitable moment, Master," suggested Snape. He wasn't acting out of pity, of course; he had had to deal with this particular student in the past and she wasn't the most focused person on the best of days.

"Petrificus," intoned Voldemort, with a quick wave of his wand when Laura had been looking him directly in the eye. He had decided to pursue the less harmless, but more direct route. "Legilimens."

* * *

Around a quarter to two, back at the secure guest facilities

"May we come in?" Remus Lupin had been momentarily stunned when he had first seen the face of Cathy Diben but had regained his composure quickly enough for it to pass unnoticed.

"Sha... sure," stuttered Cathy, seemingly rattled by the innocuous question. Stepping back, she gave a more forceful, "Please; have a seat at the table." She closed the door behind her guests.

When Remus and Mary Geneva had seated themselves, Cathy asked, in the same perfunctory fashion as before, "Could I bring you some refreshments?" She really didn't have her heart in this visit and it showed.

"Ah, nothing for me, thanks," replied Mary. She looked at Remus who silently shook his head. Cathy poured a glass of pumpkin juice for herself and sat down. Of course, if she wasn't still nursing, she'd have probably gone with a pint of Guinness.

"I believe you know why we've come," began Remus, folding his hands on the table.

"I didn't do _anything_," stated Cathy; on her feet in an instant and backing away in anger. "I don't care what they've been telling you. I had nothing to do with that attack." She slammed her glass down emphatically enough to cause a chip to fall from the base. Fortunately for the sake of her hands, that was the extent of the damage.

"I believe you," stated Remus, hurriedly. "I really do." He rose, along with Mary and approached the frightened woman. "I suspected your innocence after we talked. I've also checked into other things since then and you didn't have the means to betray the Potters."

"Then why can't you tell that to the others?" asked Cathy, impatiently and in full tears. "Just... tell them that... that..."

"We did tell them," replied Mary. "We did. That isn't the problem."

"Then what... what do they...," asked Cathy, less excitable but more confused.

"They want you to be, ah... relocated," said Remus, diplomatically. "The ones we talked with didn't feel it was, well, _right_ for the widows and children of the, shall we say _opposition_, to share facilities with the families of aurors."

"But we're all in the same boat," argued Cathy. "Our husbands are dead. And after what you said happened to Jake and Millie, we can't just leave. It wouldn't be safe." Jake and Millie, for those who might have forgotten, were Joe's parents who made an unscheduled and incomplete visit shortly after the rest of the Diben family had arrived at Hogwarts.

"We'll put you in other secure quarters," explained Mary, comfortingly. "They aren't quite as nice as these, of course, and you won't have any other families for neighbors, but you and your children will be safe."

"No neighbors?" asked Cathy. "You mean no one to talk to? No other children to play with mine?" It was a bad deal and she knew it.

"For the time being, at least," said Remus. "It's possible that other families in your situation might fall into our care. Until then, though..." He shrugged.

"When will this all be happening?" asked Cathy.

"I'm not sure," said Mary. "No sooner than this weekend, I think. The security charms have been removed from our old flats. They'll have to be replaced. Your pantry will need restocking, as well as the linen closets. That sort of thing."

"I see," replied Cathy, stiffly. "These women you talked with; was Parry one of them?" "No," answered Mary, giving a questioning look at Remus. "There were a couple that didn't participate, including Parry."

"That's good," said Cathy. She would need to have someone to talk with after Remus and Mary left. She had one choice in the matter but wouldn't bother if her only friend turned out to be as bad as the rest.

"I'm sorry that this didn't work out," offered Mary. She was also a widow due to Voldemort, but had enough compassion to feel sorrow for the fate of this widow of one of his men.

"So am I," replied Cathy. "I really liked it here. Even if most of the other women didn't like me, the children were okay. Who will Seth and Jerome play with now?"

There was no answer, of course. With a less than satisfactory conclusion to the meeting reached, the parties went their separate ways.

* * *

Near the end of supper, at Nine Banks

"It's tonight, at the Leaky Cauldron, my Lord," whispered Snape. One of his spies had just reported some information that the Dark Lord had required.

"Tonight?" asked Voldemort. He thought for a moment before continuing. "Very well. I had considered making more of a statement, but it's probably better this way. Keep them on their toes wondering what it all means." He smiled.

"Yes, Master," agreed Snape, not understanding what his boss was talking about.

"Pick out a messenger," commanded Voldemort. "Someone who wouldn't be recognized... or missed, for that matter, if things go awry."

"Yes, my Lord," replied Snape. He left to find a suitable man.

Voldemort summoned his hat from the hook on the wall. It was one of his older ones, but he liked it well enough. His new ones were much more stylish, though, so this one was chosen for one last mission.

* * *

Around ten-thirty that night, at the Leaky Cauldron

"Hold on," said Harry, setting his half empty pint down on the table, "you lost me there. How did he pop his eye out, again?" Harry, along with Dan, Rufus, Jack and three other aurors unknown to Harry were enjoying a round robin of stories about the guest of honor; Mad-eye Moody. This particular story, like most of those preceding it, was of an embarrassing nature. They had better enjoy themselves while they could. By the time they were finished with the night, of course, most of them would be paying the piper for leaving their women to sit with Hermione while they went out and got blitzed; or as they put it, consoled themselves with sharing memories of a good man.

"He sat down," explained Reggie, unhelpfully. With a hissing laugh, he continued. "He bought some sort of cabinet that afternoon. I remember that the feet looked like claws. Didn't pay much attention to the rest at the time. Anyway, he ended up rearranging his lounge so that it would fit. For some reason, he put the two seater under a counter that was in the wall between that room and the kitchen." He paused to stick his tongue into his own pint of Guinness.

"So?" asked Harry. The fact that half of the conversation was in Parseltongue didn't diminish the attention the others were giving the story. Rufus, in particular, had had enough fire whiskey to actually believe he understood the snake.

"So," explained Reggie, adjusting himself on the bar stool, "the counter stuck out a few inches from the wall. When he sat down, he just about decapitated himself. The ..."

"Ha ha ha ha ha," laughed Harry, thinking that that was the funniest thing he had ever heard. The previous two pints had served to adjust the calibration on his funny bone so the bar was set pretty low.

"What?" asked Dan and Jack, simultaneously. They looked at each other, surprised at the minor coincidence, and busted out laughing, themselves.

Harry looked around to see what they were talking about, not understanding the need to translate. His eyes, haphazardly moving as they were, rested for a moment on the prone figure of Mad-eye. He was dressed, as virtually no one had ever seen him, in his dress auror robes of blue and silver. The medals hung down about nine inches on his left breast. Noticing something odd, he turned to Rufus with a question.

Pointing at a pair of violet pentagonal medals on Rufus' similar robes, he asked, "Why does he have so many of those purple ones?"

Rufus, having the dual impediments of age and alcohol clouding his vision, tried to back far enough away from his own chest to see what Harry was talking about. Fortunately, Jack was nearby.

"Those are for herism, horismat, ah... valor," stated Jack, fingering one of his own. Harry caught a glint and noticed that it had a diamond on three of the points.

Jack noticed and explained. "You get the medal the first time you do something incredibly stupi, er, I mean brave. Then, if you haven't learned your lesson, they fill in the points."

"I see," said Dan, who had a better view of Rufus than Jack. "So that's six for each medal, then?"

"Uh, huh," answered Rufus. "I would've started on my third one by now if I didn't get the bum leg." He took another swig before amending, "I suppose I shouldn't use that excuse. It never slowed Mad-eye down." They all glanced over at Mad-eye. He had five of the trinkets forming an entire row on his chest. They were just over his three Order of Merlins.

"Did he get another one for saving us?" asked Harry, inexplicably coming out of his fog for a moment.

"No," replied Rufus. "We would've had to start a new one and that would have ruined the pattern." They all laughed.

Just then, the door burst open. With three dozen aurors in attendance, any attack would have been foolhardy, but they were on their guard, nevertheless. A second later, an older, traditional leather wizard's hat came sailing into the room with a twirl. It landed on the table next to Harry's. Rufus, trying to stand, was shoved back into his seat by a grouchy Jack, who went over to retrieve the item. A note was pinned to the brim. After checking for curses, he tore off the note and read it. With a laugh, he handed it to Rufus.

Rufus, who wasn't wearing his glasses, handed the note to the much younger Harry.

Harry read it out loud. "To a worthy opponent. LV" After a moment, he asked, "Who's LV?" He was confused by the 'L'.

"That would be _Lord Voldemort_," said Rufus, to the hushed gasps of the younger aurors. "It's a tribute to Mad-eye. A token of respect from an enemy." He looked at the hat for a moment before tossing it on the table.


	114. Chapter 114

Chapter 114 - A Riddle for Voldemort

November 24th, 1997

Deep within the Voldemort stronghold at Ninebanks.

Augie Rookwood walked down the dark, lightly used corridor until he reached his destination. Ignoring the guard, he knocked twice and entered. Snape was standing by the window. If Rookwood guessed correctly, he hadn't been standing there for long. For one thing, there wasn't anything to be seen. It was still several hours until dawn. The night was severely overcast and the cold had caused a thin layer of frost to form on the panes. Rookwood entered the seemingly otherwise unoccupied room and closed the door.

"You're not supposed to peek, Sev," said Augie with a knowing smirk. He walked over to join Snape, pausing briefly to glance into the pensieve himself.

"I believe that order was given to both of us," reminded Snape.

"So we'd better not give each other away, then," responded Rookwood. "Seen anything interesting?"

"Yes," replied Snape, "but nothing that wasn't already known from the letters. It seems to have captivated the interest of the Dark Lord, though. He's played the memory at least a couple of dozen times. I'm not sure what he's expecting to change." They both chuckled.

"Well, it's my watch," said Rookwood. "I had Dinky whip up an Irish omelette so I'll be fine until morning, if he's still in there."

"Sounds good enough," said Snape. "I'll have her warm up the leftovers." He always slept better with a midnight snack.

"Good luck on that, mate," said Rookwood before lightly punching his chest with his fist and burping.

"You didn't eat it all, did you?" asked Snape with a mixed incredulous and irritated tone. Dinky's recipe for Irish omelettes would easily serve between four and six grown men.

"Didn't start out to," admitted Rookwood, "but you know Dinky."

Indeed he did. Snape had already gained twenty-five pounds due to his inability to resist her cooking. Even his Master had had to let out his robes a few inches. Glancing in the pensieve as he passed, Snape said, "He'll be tired and grumpy when he's finally finished so don't ask much. We'll probably learn more if we wait for him to get in a quick nap."

"I've been here long enough to have figured that out on my own," replied Rookwood. "Well fed and well rested are two of the main conditions for making him happy. Add some of that brandy he's so fond of and he'll talk your ears off."

"Don't I know it," agreed Snape with a long suffering tone. Walking towards the door, he said, "I'll be back in the morning." After he left, Rookwood took up Snape's recent position to the side of the pensieve and began his furtive observations.

* * *

In the Hogwarts Head's Suite

Harry woke, with more than a little help from Winky, and rolled over onto his back in prelude to actually getting up. That was the plan, at least. Without the reference point of his normally present wife, Harry had drifted a bit further towards his side of the bed than usual. He noticed this about a half second after it was too late to stop his fall. Fortunately, Winky was able to suspend him a moment before he hit and placed him back onto the bed.

"Thanks," said Harry, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. This did no good, of course. After sitting up half the night, drinking and talking with Rufus, Jack, Mr. Weasley, Reggie and, after he had finally talked his wife into letting him go, Ron; Harry had only the most tenuous hold on stability. As he sat there, waiting for the back of his spinning head to come into view, he pondered the balance sheet between having a good time last night and wishing he was dead, now. Not coming to a solution, he bent over to retrieve his slippers. Again, Winky caught him before he hit the floor. He thought he might have to give her a raise.

"Win... kee?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes, Master!" Winky replied, screaming at the top of her lungs, or so it seemed.

"Ahhh," replied Harry, holding onto his head to prevent the crack from spreading.

"Thorup, thorup, plop," came a sound from across the room. Looking up, Harry eventually recognized the shape of a snake. He was vomiting into his shoes. Harry's shoes, that is.

"Don't do that," ordered Harry, testily. Not because of any great concern for his shoes, of course, but because witnessing the sight had managed to raise the odds that he would do the same from about twenty percent to even money.

"_Sorry_," replied Reggie. He had a slightly greener color than normal. "_Where would you prefer?_"

"Don't do what, Master?" asked Winky, not understanding that Harry was addressing the serpent.

"What?" asked Harry, not understanding Winky's problem.

"What does Master wish for Winky to stop being doing, Master?" asked Winky.

"I'd like for you to stop shouting, for one thing," said Harry, falling back onto the bed with a thump. That turned out to be a mistake.

"It is being time for Master to be preparing for Master's day," said Winky.

"Oh," replied Harry. "That's right. Let's see. What's my first class?" He started to try to sit up, again.

"Master is being with Mistress Honey at nine o'clock, Master," replied Winky.

"Transfiguration?" asked Harry, rhetorically. "That's good. Can sleep through that one, easily enough. What's next?"

"Master is being with Professor Triffle at eleven o'clock, Master," informed Winky. She was a bit out of her comfort zone by having to know all of this unusual information. Mistress Hermione certainly never asked her anything of the sort.

"So an hour break between?" asked Harry. "I might live through the day after all."

"_Optimist,_" quipped Reggie. He had slithered over to Crookshank's water dish and was rinsing out his mouth.

"Maybe," replied Harry.

"Master?" asked Winky.

"What?" countered Harry.

"Master said 'maybe', Master," replied Winky. "Winky is being wondering what Master is being needing, Master."

"_Does she always talk like that?_" groaned Reggie. He found a small rug next to the fireplace and curled up. The fire had burned down to just embers, but they were an unaccustomed luxury to the snake. He felt that just lying there would be in his best interest.

"Don't pick on her," chastised Harry. "House elves have been helping me out a lot."

"Thank you, Master," said Winky, a bit confused. Then, with a bit of a suggestive tone to her voice, she commented, "Perhaps Master should be being staying in bed, today."

"Can't," said Harry. "McGonagall would have my hide if I skived off classes because of a hangover. Besides, I still need to check in with Hermione."

"Master has a hangover?" asked Winky.

"I think so," replied Harry. "Of course, being the first, and hopefully the last time, I can't be sure."

"_Be sure,_" said Reggie. "_I've had enough for the both of us._"

"Okay, then," responded Harry. "I guess I do."

"Winky is being able to be curing a hangover, Master," stated Winky. "Is Mas..."

"Bloody well right, you can," said Harry. She was definitely going to get that raise.

"_Make it two_," hissed Reggie, raising his head from his rug.

"Right," said Harry. "Take care of Reggie, as well."

"Reggie, Master?" asked Winky. "Who is being Reggie?"

"The _snake_," said Harry as if Winky were slow. "We've been talking with him for five minutes."

"Yes, Master," said Winky. She waved her hands over her head in the general direction of Harry and the pain, nausea and general fatigue vanished in a flash.

"Thanks," said Harry. "Where would you like to go on your cruise?" Such a quick snatch from the jaws of Death certainly deserved at least two weeks in the Mediterranean.

"_Don't forget me_," called Reggie. He was slithering towards the nervous elf.

"Cruise?" asked Winky.

"Just kidding," said Harry. "Don't forget Reggie." He pointed at the snake, now just two feet away from Winky.

Winky had no idea what was going on, but she did have her orders. With an identical motion that had helped her Master, she fixed Reggie up in a blink. Unfortunately, Reggie decided to show his appreciation.

"Help, Master," she cried as Reggie coiled around her legs. Undecided on whether or not she could defend herself, given her Master's previous comments, she was about to pop off when Harry did indeed help.

"Better not do that, Reggie," he said, getting up to uncoil his new friend from his old one. Placing Reggie over his shoulders, he said, "It might take awhile for everyone to get used to you." He looked around. Neither Hedwig nor Crookshanks were in the room.

"I guess we'll have to deal with the formal introductions later," said Harry. "We have two other pets; an owl named Hedwig and a cat named Crookshanks."

"_What do you mean, other pets?_" asked Reggie. "_I'm not your pet, thank you very much._" He seemed to be affronted by the suggestion.

"Oh," said Harry. "Sorry about that. We'll have to discuss your proper category later, I guess."

"Indeed we will," affirmed Reggie, stiffening up a bit.

"Anyway," continued Harry, "the elf is named Winky. She'll be taking care of your needs, as well as doing everything else around here."

"_Pleased_," said Reggie to Winky, extending his tail towards her. Winky didn't move.

"Winky," continued Harry, "this is Reggie. He was a friend of Mad-eye and will be living here, now. I'm not sure what his needs will be, but we'll figure that out, I suppose."

After a pause, Winky said, "Winky is being honored to be being serving Master's guest, Master."

"_Does she always lie like that?_" asked Reggie.

Harry snorted. "Not always," he replied. "I'm sure that the two of you will get along famously."

"If she doesn't decide to cut me up and put me in the stew," murmured Reggie under his breath.

"Don't worry." Facing his servant, Harry said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Winky, I need to get dressed and go see Hermione before grabbing a bite of breakfast.

"Yes, Master," said Winky, popping off to give Harry some privacy.

"_Is this Hermione another pet of yours?_" asked Reggie.

"The other way around," said Harry, pulling on a fresh pair of shorts. "She's my wife. If I were worried about anyone chopping you up for dinner, it'd be her."

Reggie pondered this as he went off to finish his nap as Harry concentrated on getting his robes on right side out. With a quick goodbye, he popped off to London.

* * *

Back at Ninebanks

Voldemort sat on the bench at the Gryffindor table next to Ginny. As luck would have it, it was the spot usually occupied by Harry Potter. Ginny was currently trading taunts with Blaise Zabini. Voldemort knew his name since he had questioned Dinsdale's daughter about the identities of the main players before she finally collapsed. Voldemort wasn't concerned about the verbal barbs, though. He was letting the scene unfold while observing the participants one at a time. Laura Dinsdale didn't have an exceptional view of everyone but he hoped it would be sufficient to tell if some charm or spell had been used to summon Harry Potter. Ginny was a bit fuzzy, but he would be able to tell if she did anything out of the ordinary. He was startled a bit when Ginny, along with everyone else, sprang to their feet and pulled their wands. If she was going to do anything, it would be now.

"Please, everyone," shouted the Lovegood girl from the top of the Ravenclaw table. "This isn't necessary. We're all upset, but Hermione's going to be fine." Voldemort glanced at her for a second but returned his attention to Ginny. No spells were cast. No talismans were touched. Nothing. She wasn't the one who summoned Harry Potter.

Pop! Voldemort turned to watch the spectacle one more time. Silently counting, he didn't quite get to one before the spells hit. No wand was used. No incantation was spoken. And yet, in a matter of moments, all of the members of his house were prone on the floor, praying to be spared. How did he do that?

The scene played on. A few muffled and unintelligible words were exchanged between Potter and his friends. Laura Dinsdale couldn't make them out due to the excitable babbling of those around her. And then the memory was over. He was left, once again, with his only clue. The elf that came with him might know something. She had a hold of Harry's hand when they arrived but had taken no part in the battle and had disappeared almost immediately. He would have to ask Dinky if she knew her but that was a longshot and he knew it. Dinky had never worked at Hogwarts so the young elf would most likely be unknown to her. Still, it was all he had. He'd talk with her in the morning. Was it already morning? Having no way of accurately knowing the time, he made a reasonably accurate guess by judging his hunger and exhaustion. With a frustrated hop, he left the pensieve in search of breakfast and an undisturbed nap.

* * *

In the Great Hall

Entering the Great Hall about twenty minutes before the start of classes, Harry, fresh from a visit with Hermione, was gaily humming the popular tune "My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose." Based on a poem by Robert Burns, it most accurately depicted his current mood. Hermione was doing very well and might be released in much less than the originally predicted week. Walking towards his usual spot, he was distracted by a familiar voice off to his left.

"Good morning, Harry," said Luna. "You seem to be in fine spirits this morning." She was sitting at the Hufflepuff table with two young children that Harry recognized as Draco's old tutoring students, John and Marcia.

"I most assuredly am," replied Harry. "They said Hermione could be coming home by Thursday; tomorrow if things go extremely well." He made a spur of the moment decision and sat down with the three of them. "Pass the bacon, please, John," he asked as he started to fill his plate.

John, who was already a bit on the shy side, sat in shock at having Harry Potter join them for breakfast. Although they had spoken in the past, he never thought that any such familiarity would be forthcoming, up to and including having Harry remember his name. With trembling hands, he picked up the tray and handed it towards his hero.

"Thanks," said Harry. He took a few bites before noticing that he was the only one thus occupied. "Aren't any of you eating?" he asked, mainly of Luna.

"We already have," explained Luna. "Marcia and John were having trouble with the Wingardium Leviosa spell. I said I'd help them before class." She held up the salt shaker with which they had been practicing.

"Oh," said Harry. "That's a good spell to know. It was the first one that we used to save our lives."

"It saved your life?" asked Marcia, her eyes wide.

"Technically, it saved Hermione's," amended Harry, "but I can't say for certain if Ron and I would have got out alive if it had failed, either." He instinctively glanced over at Ron as he said his name. Ron looked like he had either eaten too much or had eaten something that he couldn't digest properly. Knowing that either option was all but impossible, Harry said, "I think I'd better check on Ron. He doesn't look too well." He started to rise.

"Normally, I'd have suspected he'd been stung by a whiffle bee," said Luna, "but from the chiding Honey has been dishing out, it's more likely the result of the drinks from last night."

"Oh," said Harry, sitting back down with more understanding. "I suppose so. I had the same problem when I woke up." Peering a bit under the table, he said, "Winky," quite softly.

"What can Wink..." began the elf a second later.

"Shh," shushed Harry, looking around. "Try not to be too obvious, but Ron seems to have the same illness that Reggie and I had this morning. Do you think you could fix him up?" He pointed over his left shoulder at Ron, although Winky knew exactly where all of his friends were, anyway.

"Yes, Master," said Winky, finally understanding she wasn't to be seen. She popped off with nary a blip.

"Reggie?" asked Luna.

"Yeah," replied Harry. "He was Mad-eye's pet snake, although don't tell him I said so. He's a little sensitive about being called a pet."

"And since you knew that he had been drinking too much," continued Luna, "can I assume that he's staying with you, now?"

"Uh, huh," replied Harry before taking a sip of his coffee. "He said that he'd prefer to stay with me since I'd be a better conversationalist than Mad-eye's nephews. Probably right about that, I suppose."

"And this all happened at Professor Moody's wake," Luna stated, putting the pieces together with what she knew of the scheduled events.

"Correct," said Harry, scooping up a helping of oatmeal. It was the one item that never seemed to run out. "Rufus had us up half the night, telling stories from when he and Mad-eye were younger. I tell you, from what I heard, it could have gone either way on who ended up with the peg leg. Rufus got off easy with just a limp; if you could believe half of what he said, that is."

"He does seem to like to... I'll be kind and say _embellish_ his stories a bit," commented Luna.

"Nothing wrong with that," said Harry, reaching for a roll. With his wife absent, he didn't even hesitate before swirling it around the butter dish. "Personally, from what I heard last night, he might not be adding as much as you'd think."

"I suppose it's possible," said Luna, politely. "Will there be a funeral, as well?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but just for his family. I never knew it, before, but they could have given the Weasley's a run for their money. He was the oldest of twelve children."

"Really?" asked Luna. "I don't think I've ever met any other Moodys, besides him."

"That's because they mimicked the Weasleys in one other way, but backwards," explained Harry. "Mad-eye was the only son. I suppose having eleven sisters might have had something to do with the way he turned out."

"As much as I hate to admit it," said Luna, "that wouldn't be the first time I heard of that sort of an effect."

John and Marcia listened with rapt attention as these two friends discussed the foibles of the Minister of Magic and the famous, although personally unknown to them, Mad-eye Moody. While Harry's celebrity and standing in the wizarding community was well documented, it seemed that even Luna was better connected with the upper levels of society than they could have guessed. All in all, despite the informality and gossipy nature of the conversation, they both began to feel more than a bit self-conscious by the mere fact of sitting with them. It was a bit like sitting on a trolley and having the Queen and Prime Minister plop down next to you. The feeling must have existed in other parts of the student body since they were interrupted by none other than Hannah Abbott; the senior female Hufflepuff prefect.

"Excuse me, Harry," she said as she stood next to John. "Hi, Luna. I hate to butt in, but this needs to be signed by this pair so we can send it out on the next owl flight." She laid an ornate, professionally made card with serious looking script on the table in front of Marcia. Explaining, she said, "It should have been passed on by the bloody cowards sitting here," at this point, she poked her thumb over her shoulder at those first and second years occupying the end of the table, "but they couldn't bring themselves to interrupt you."

"We weren't saying anything important," said Harry, misunderstanding why the younger students were so nervous around him.

"I assumed as much," responded Hannah. "This is, though," she added in a great segue. Turning to the younger students, she instructed, "Get this back to me in five minutes." With a smiled goodbye, she returned to her seat at the other end of the hall.

"What do you have there?" asked Harry, trying to get a look at the card.

"It's a sympathy card for Laura," replied Marcia. "For her mother." She quickly read some of the other comments to get an idea for one of her own before signing the card and passing it over to John.

"Her mother?" asked Harry. He didn't recognize the name that went with the girl, but gathered that something bad had happened to her mother.

"Yes," said Luna. "You weren't here, yesterday. From what we can gather, Laura Dinsdale's mother died in some sort of an accident."

"That's terrible," said Harry, truly upset by the news. "What happened?"

"We don't really know," replied Luna. "A witch came to fetch her yesterday morning and take her to her father."

Harry waited until John had finished the card before asking, "Could I sign that, too?" John nodded and handed Harry the card.

"The Gryffindors sent a letter, yesterday," said Luna. "We Ravenclaws did the same. I'm not sure about the Slytherins."

"I am," said Harry as he signed his name after a short note of condolence. He handed the card to Marcia who quickly trotted off.

"Why did it take until today for the Hufflepuffs to send something?" asked Harry.

"We wanted an actual card," explained John, "instead of just a piece of parchment. Karla's mom is a muggle who works at a chemist's. She purchased the card, but it didn't get here until this morning's mail."

"Oh," said Harry. "You say she died yesterday?"

"Sometime the night before," corrected Luna. "The witch came to fetch Laura first thing yesterday morning."

"Oh," repeated Harry. "Then it didn't have anything to do with the attack on Hermione and me."

"It wouldn't seem so," replied Luna. Then, with a more world weary look than Harry had ever seen on her, she added, "Laura's going to be in a bad way when she gets back. It's near enough Christmas, too. That won't help, either." She sighed.

Harry surveyed his friend who had had just as much loss and heartache in her short life as he. "She'll be alright, Luna," he said, putting his hand on hers. "You'll be there to help her."

Luna nodded, silently acknowledging that Harry had made the correct assumption. Unlike her, Laura would have someone who understood.

* * *

In the back room of the Throttled Troll

Mundungus Fletcher starting to wonder if he wouldn't be better off turning himself in. He'd had to move three times last night just to stay ahead of his pursuers. More correctly, he had moved three times in the hopes of staying ahead of them. He had developed a finely tuned sense of impending capture over the years and when he got 'that feeling', he took off, no questions asked. He could feel it now, he imagined, but his old and heretofore dependable friend Grumpy Jackhandle had just left to make him a bit of breakfast with a few sandwiches wrapped for travel. Inching towards the aged door, he put his ear against the smoothest part and listened.

"... seen him, alright. Can't remember when, exactly. Maybe a couple days ago; maybe more." That was Grumpy, alright. Not quite lying but not being all that truthful, either. Dung concentrated some more, trying to tell if the visitor was working for the Ministry, for Potter or for You-Know-Who. He didn't want to be found by any of them, now that he thought about it.

Another chap was talking, now. Much quieter than Grumpy. Mundungus couldn't make out much more than the odd word. "...see him... Potter... lucky..." Lucky? "... Peach tree ...burn ...gold"

Mundungus heard the last word and headed for the back door. Grumpy was an old friend, but he'd been in love with gold since birth. Waddling out of range of the Anti-apparition wards on the Troll, he spun quickly and was fifty miles away in a second. The sandwiches would have to come from somewhere else.

* * *

Seventh Year Potions Classroom

"Come now, Mr. Weasley," scolded Triffle. "You've been using that technique since third year. Just have Mr. Potter demonstrate it for you and I'm sure it'll all come back to you. Yes, Miss Bones?" Triffle turned away to help a student with the _current_ lesson.

Ron turned back to the sputtering concoction and gave Harry a shrug. Harry, of course, would be no help in demonstrating the correct method of maintaining a pressurized simmer since he had only escaped being the one to have to ask by virtue of correctly calling a flipped coin.

"What are we going to do?" whispered Ron. "Hermione's always done that spell for us." He gazed in disgust at the rapidly thickening purple goo forming inside their cauldron.

"I don't know," moaned Harry. He glanced from side to side and was heartened to discover that Dean and Seamus were doing no better. Suddenly, inspiration hit.

"Professor," stated Harry, raising his hand. Triffle turned to face him. "Permission to use the restroom, sir?" asked Harry. Ron looked at him with a confused look. Harry never had to leave between classes. Triffle, on the other hand, merely nodded and turned back to the student he had been helping.

"Ron," whispered Harry, urgently, "get this mess cleared out and start over."

"Start over?" asked Ron, hesitantly picking up his wand. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Harry, grabbing a parchment and stuffing it, along with his ink and quill into his robes. "We'll never fix that. Hurry. I'll be right back." He quickly left the room as Ron obediently incanted "Evanesco."

* * *

A moment later in London

Pop! Harry quickly looked around and was relieved that none of the staff were currently in Hermione's room. Dan and Emma were there, of course, reading a soccer magazine and crocheting, respectively. Hermione, not surprisingly, was reading.

"Harry," she whispered, putting down her book. She could see the sense of urgency on his face. "What's happened?"

"Quick," said Harry, pulling out his writing supplies, "how do you perform the Continetur Calor spell?"

Hermione looked at her watch, noting that Harry should be in Potions. "We've been doing that for years," she quietly chided.

"No," corrected Harry, "_you've_ been doing it for years."

"And you've never watched?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"Please, Hermione," begged Harry. He looked at his watch, wondering how long he could realistically stay in 'The Restroom'.

Hermione pause for a second before reaching for her wand. "Now pay attention."

* * *

A half hour later, inside the Potions classroom.

"Okay," said Ron, looking at the clock, "it's been long enough. All we have to do..." he continued, looking at the book, "is remove the heating spell and add the murtlap essence." He looked at Harry.

"Don't look at me," said Harry, "I just asked how to start the spell; not stop it."

"Wouldn't it just be Finite?" asked Ron, grabbing for his wand.

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "Look at that magical lid." The blue translucent glow over the top of the cauldron was noticeably bowing out. "If we just vanished it, the whole thing would blow. Hermione always did something nonverbally." Looking around, he saw Professor Triffle examining the front row's finished potions. Knocking off his bottle of ink, he said, "Oh, my," unconvincingly and knelt down below the table top. Pop!

* * *

Approaching noon at Ninebanks

"This way, gentlemen," said Rookwood, leading some of his fairly competent, but expendable men to a conference room for a meeting with Snape. He wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen, but he was ordered to bring the worst of his best men.

When they reached their destination, he opened the door and ushered them all inside.

"Have a seat," said Snape. He didn't take his own advice, but stood up at the front of the room, instead. After the ten men had each found a chair and used it, he put his hands together under his chin to think a bit before speaking.

"You have been chosen," began Snape, still forming his thoughts, "to perform a task specifically requested by the Dark Lord." There were several glances among them all as this sudden upgrade in their perceived status took hold.

Snape really wasn't sure how to continue. If he just gave them their assignment, many, if not most of them would assume that they were being sent to their death and not perform up to the expectations of his master. Perhaps a hint of background material. "As some of you have no doubt become aware," he continued, "there was an incident at Hogwarts involving Harry Potter and several members of Slytherin House." Again, their were murmurs, although not directed between any of them as much as to themselves.

"Yes," said Snape, apparently acknowledging the validity of their apprehension. "Anyway, the Dark Lord has decided that despite his powers, which I can assure you are of the highest level, he might benefit from some practice dealing, as Potter had, with a surprise attack. After all, even the keenest edge needs to be whetted, occasionally."

A better relative intelligence test could not have been devised. Snape watched as one after another figured out where this was heading and had the blood drain from their faces.

"To that end," he finished, "you have been selected to form a pair of teams; six men each. These teams will then work independently and devise plans to attack the Dark Lord at unexpected times. No spells worse than stunners are allowed, of course. Also, you cannot surround your master. By that I mean all attackers must be more or less on one side or the other. This is an exercise, after all; not a circular firing squad. The Dark Lord will counter your attacks and disarm or disable you. For your own safety, do not attempt any attacks unless Rookwood or myself are present. We wouldn't want the other men to retaliate for your perceived treason."

Tanger Colgate raised his hand, as if in class. Snape pointed at him to speak. "Sir," he began, "will we be doing just the one attack or will this be ongoing."

Snape was surprised that it was an intelligent question instead of begging for mercy. Colgate moved up a notch in his book. "You will continue until ordered to stop," answered Snape. "I would limit yourselves to no more than one attack per day, though, to prevent overly interfering with the normal running of this organization."

"Sir," asked Jake Airins, "from what I've heard, the Potter attack occurred at a distance. Should we assume that our attacks should do likewise?"

Snape was once again surprised at the question. Giving it a bit of thought, he answered, "I would have to say yes. If several of you were only a few feet away, it would be unlikely that anyone, even our master, could react in time to defend himself against everyone. I'd have to say that fifteen feet should be the minimum. Anything else?" He looked around and waited. Seeing no further questions, he said, "Colgate and Airins will be the team leaders. You may divide up as you see fit. Do not coordinate your attacks with the other team except to ensure that only one such attack takes place at a time." As the men began to congregate together, he signaled Rookwood and they left the room.

Once outside, Rookwood said, "They seem eager to get started. Idiots." He and Snape began to walk to the lunchroom.

"Perhaps," replied Snape. "The Dark Lord did specifically state that he would try to curb his response to less than lethal measures."

"He'll try," repeated Rookwood. "We'll see how that works out if one of them takes him down."

"One can never know until it happens," responded Snape. They turned a corner and Snape stopped them both. Speaking softer, he asked, "Did you get a good look at what happened in the pensieve?"

"I did," replied Rookwood, also in a whisper. "I don't know about you, but I'd be out cold on the top of that table. How the hell did Potter pull that off? And wandlessly, no less?" He had a concerned look in his eye bordering on fear.

"I don't know," answered Snape. "Judging from the assignment I just gave those men, neither does the Dark Lord." With a last look around, they continued on their way.

* * *

Author's Note: It's a little shorter chapter than normal, but it's more timely and a good place to stop. I hope to maintain this pace now that I'm only working five day weeks for awhile.

Dad


	115. Chapter 115

Chapter 115 - The Others

November 25th, 1997

"I think that might do it." Vernon Dursley tightened the set nut on the last tensioning line. Giving it a satisfying 'Ping!', he put his spanner back into the assigned drawer. "Well, Karl; what do you think?"

'Karl' gave the far end of the master beam a slight push with his finger. It glided smoothly for about twenty inches along its arc before slowing to a stop. Slave beams one and two sat motionless, waiting to be commanded by their counterparts in Norwich, England and Tralee, Ireland. "Karl is thinking that Vernon has done well." Vernon, of course, didn't note the relevance of the particular wording, but the tone of the elf left no doubt that he also shared in the pride of a job well done.

"Bloody well right," agreed Vernon. "Now, all we need to do is get a volunteer or two and calibrate this beast." The current locations of the three sites were accurately located on the large map spread on the table. The direction of True North, however, remained elusive. Fortunately, Vernon's design didn't need to be connected to true anything. They would set each of the three Death Eater location devices relative to the map and that would be as good as gold for finding the blighters. It only remained, as Vernon had stated, to find one that was trustworthy enough to take out of either the Fortress of Solitude or the Fortress North. Both he and Karl headed over to the main office.

Martha was sitting in the only normal chair in the map room. As usual, the only Death Eaters identified by the maps were from the group that had been specifically exempted from having their arms removed by the late Mr. Macnair. That amounted to five since her shift started this morning. Slider and Jumper had both indicated a desire to use negative identification to find some others, but had both died before that plan had been properly implemented. With Hermione requiring enhanced security as well as the fact that no new Head Elf had been selected, no elves were assigned to that task, so this was what they were left with. Martha glanced at the clock, noting that she still had about an hour to go before she could leave for the night. As her eyes fell from the time, she caught site of Vernon Dursley cautiously entering the front door of the office. Getting up, she left her station to see what he wanted.

"Can I help you?" she asked, assuming something was up since he had never before been in the office.

"Maybe," answered Vernon. He and Martha had spoken a few times and had seen each other heading to and from their work, but they never had much interaction. "I'm, ah, done with the assembly of the map thingy," he said, pointing vaguely at the currently obscured device. "Harry and Hermione said they could provide one of the Dead Heads for the final calibrations. Did they mention any of this to you?"

"As a matter of fact, they did," replied Martha. "Only in passing, of course. I think Hermione was planning on working with you on it, but things have changed, of course." Indeed, they had.

"Well," continued Vernon, "if you could point him out, I think I'd be finished by this evening. Tomorrow morning, I could train your lot on how to use the equipment."

"Actually," said Martha, "you won't be needing a 'him' so much as an 'it'. From what I understand, you'll be using one of the old style arms."

"An arm?" asked Vernon, flummoxed, and a bit freaked out.

"There are two types of marks," explained Martha. "The new detector can track either. The latest Dark Mark is part of the whole Death Eater. We'll save that for later. The old version was just part of their arms, though; sort of a tatoo. Harry and his crew removed the arms and put them at the North Pole for safekeeping. They still work fine for tracking, though."

"Er, whatever," said Vernon. "Do you think you could send for one of these... arms?"

"I'll get it," said Martha, after looking around for a Free Elf. Being the only one in the area with a master ring, she walked over to the icon board and touched it to the snowflake and vanished.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," said Vernon, staring at the spot Martha had been.

"Get used to what, Vernon?" asked Karl, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

Before he could explain, Vernon was startled again by the return of Martha. She had a long plastic box under her arm.

"Here you go," she said, setting the box on the table. The name, 'Jordy Krillian' was printed on the cover.

"Thanks," said Vernon, obviously not wishing to be in such close proximity to a severed arm.

Martha laughed. "Just keep it in the box." She picked up the box and thrust it into Vernon's hands.

"Ah, yes," said Vernon. He looked around briefly before handing the box to Karl. "Thank you very much." Vernon made a quick exit from the room, hoping to try to finish up before suppertime.

* * *

At St. George's, in Hermione's room.

"As much as I sympathize," said McGonagall, "I think I'd take Friday off, as well, and just continue to rest up until Monday." She and Hermione had been discussing her increasingly likely return to Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon. Hermione had just suggested that if she was in the castle anyway, she might as well attend class. The Headmistress was pretty much her last hope at finding anyone else who agreed. Emma, who sat in the corner chair reading her book, nodded in agreement. Dan had returned to their office to take care of a few of their patients who would have problems without attention.

"I suppose it's the prudent choice," sighed Hermione. "It's just a whole week to make up." She slumped back against her pillow in defeat.

"I don't have specific information regarding your grades," said Rufus, who had a healer's appointment of his own at three-thirty and therefore hadn't scheduled any meetings for this afternoon, "but I'd be willing to guess that missing a week of classes won't have much of an effect on your grasp of the subjects." Minerva gave a half shrug in agreement.

"You'd be surprised what comes up that I don't know," said Hermione, truthfully. It was truthful in that they actually would be surprised if any information fit that criteria.

"I'm sure you'll survive," replied McGonagall. "Speaking of which, I was discussing your situation with Professor Coldiron. We both think that you should drop his class for the rest of this term."

"What?" exclaimed Hermione, quietly. She put her hand over her mouth and gave two controlled coughs.

"It's the most strenuous of your classes," explained Minerva, gently. "We wouldn't want you to be injured while you recover. It would only be for another month. We determined that you should be given a 'Pass' for this term so that it wouldn't be calculated in with your overall rating."

Hermione wasn't pleased with the prospect of actually dropping a class. She hadn't done that since third year Divination. Still, she knew that dueling, even for practice, wouldn't be a good idea, either.

"Perhaps I could still sit in for the classroom time," she counter offered, "but skip the practical."

Minerva bobbed her head back and forth as she considered this. "I suppose that would be reasonable," she finally decided.

"Good," said Hermione, obviously relieved.

"Well, now that that's settled," said Rufus, looking at his watch, "I have to be heading over to St. Mungo's. Care to join me?" He held out his hand to Minerva as he stood.

"Not just yet," replied the Headmistress. "I'd like a word with Mr. Potter." This last part was said with a sterner tone to her voice.

"He's in Charms until four o'clock," informed Hermione. "Is something the matter?"

"Perhaps," replied McGonagall. "I've heard some interesting comments concerning a rapid increase in restroom trips during class." She turned to give Hermione a suspicious look over the rim of her glasses. Hermione averted her eyes, but said nothing.

"He didn't," declared Rufus, catching the body language.

"He did," said Emma, without looking up. "Four times, by my count."

"All the way from Hogwarts?" asked Rufus, laughing. "Well, say 'hello' for me." He stepped out of sight of the door and apparated to the Diagon Alley public floo facility.

Minerva sat slightly back in her chair and waited. She needed to catch Harry in the act. Looking around for a magazine, she took a closer look at Hermione resting her arm on the steel side rail. "I'd wager that you're looking forward to your own bed," she commented.

"You're right about that," agreed Hermione, nodding. "Madame Pomfrey and Dr. Lorian have both decided that I should stay in the hospital wing for the first night, but I think I can talk her out of that if I promise to be good."

"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Emma, standing up. "Any number of complications could occur that might require immediate care. Why, you haven't even stood up, yet. It only makes sense to take things slowly, and that means remaining under trained medical supervision as long as necessary." She had asked no questions nor made any requests nor expressed her opinion. She was simply stating how things were going to be.

"Yes, mother," grumbled Hermione.

The three headstrong women sat, or in Hermione's case, lay in silence for a few minutes, pursuing their leisure activities of choice. McGonagall read her magazine. Emma read her book. Hermione wrote a note. All very innocent, of course. Until...

"Elf!" snapped McGonagall, seemingly without looking up.

"Mistress," replied Tripper, who had inexplicably broken cover and was standing next to Hermione.

"Bring me that note," ordered the Headmistress. Hermione sighed and plopped fully back into her pillows.

"Yes, Mistress," obeyed Tripper, trotting over and giving her the parchment. McGonagall quickly read the note and turned her gaze to Hermione.

"Tell me, Mrs. Potter," she began, "do you have any realistic expectations that Mr. Potter is sufficiently proficient in _any _of his classes to muddle through without your constant assistance?" She dropped the parchment into the rubbish bin.

"Of _course_ he is," retorted Hermione, affecting an air of indignation. "I'm sure that..."

Pop!

Harry had his Charms book open and took a step towards Hermione when he noticed McGonagall looking his way and preparing to speak.

Pop!

"Elf!" shouted McGonagall, grabbing Tripper's shoulder. "After him."

Pop!

"Bloody hell," muttered Hermione.

* * *

Around dusk, at the abandoned cemetery of Mohope, near Ninebanks.

Howard Dinsdale stood silently next to the grave of his wife of eighteen years. Helen had died almost two days ago in what was now considered to be an accident. It was a highly unlikely accident, but an accident nonetheless. A dozen or so of his long time associates gathered around him in a show of support. His best friend, Keith, had given a short eulogy. He was a tough old bird, but fairly eloquent in times like this and Howard was comforted. As they all began to break up and return to Ninebanks, Theresa Logan, a good friend of Helen's, came to give some final condolences.

"It's just all so tragic, Howard," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "Helen was so young." She sighed.

Howard said, "Yes. She ..." and he broke off. It was nearly impossible for him to speak, today. Everyone, including Theresa, understood; or so they thought.

"It'll get better," she said. "She's laid to rest, now." They stood silently, for a moment. "I guess it must have been too much for Laura," continued Theresa, who had noticed the absence of Laura. "Would you like me to talk with her for awhile?"

"Who?" asked Howard, confused.

"Laura," repeated Theresa. When there wasn't a response, she added, "Your _daughter._"

Howard didn't say anything further, but gave Theresa a very strange look before turning to leave. Unseen, Snape came up behind Theresa with his wand drawn. Quietly, he intoned, "Obliviate."

* * *

Well after dark, in the kitchens of Hogwarts.

"I can't quite see myself," said Ginny, handing the plate to Harry. She had a sickly sweet grin on her face that made him want to tweak her nose. Hard. Instead, he silently took the plate and dropped it into the sink. He hadn't had to add any hot water to the mix for an hour since his own seething temper was sufficient to maintain the proper temperature. He knew, however, that if he rewarded Ginny with any sort of response, they'd be there all night. Ron, with years of experience as her brother, tried a different tack.

"Perhaps you should consider, Ginny," said Ron, "that with your less than stellar record at staying out of trouble, _you_ might very well find yourself holding the rags, someday, while Harry and I inspect _your_ work." He set the latest dry bowl in front of her to be checked. Ginny just laughed in her most annoying manner. Ron's bluff had been much too vague to be effective.

Two or three more plates made it to the cupboard before Ginny decided to play with her mice, again. "Oh, look," she said, touching the side of a polished gold goblet, "this one has a fingerprint on it." She handed it to Harry.

"That's it," said Harry, snapping his fingers. From the pocket of his robes; currently hanging on the wall while they were temporarily replaced by an apron; his wand sprang into his hand. With a quick swish, all of the remaining dishes glowed briefly before literally bolting into their cupboards.

"I'm telling," lied Ginny. She jumped off her stool as if to run to McGonagall on the spot.

"Before you do," said Harry, escalating Ron's methods by flipping over his ace in the hole, despite having hoped to save it for a greater need, "I'd like to commend you for your efforts at keeping the school clean."

Ginny looked at Harry with a confused look on her face. "Why?" she asked.

"Well," began Harry, "it seems that just about every evening, if I take a walk around the school, you're in one broom closet or another. I assume you're gathering some cleaning supplies. Nice of Neville to help."

"You win," said Ginny, easily. "Let's go check in with Mcgonagall. I need to start on my Defense essay for tomorrow, anyway."

* * *

When the three of them arrived at the Headmistress' office, they found not only McGonagall at her desk, but Scrimgeour, Lupin and Tonks, as well.

"Come in," said McGonagall, obviously not expecting such a crowd this evening. One tale-tell sign of that was her currently empty cookie dish. Although usually ending up that way when Rufus came to visit, it's contents had evaporated in only a half hour, due mostly to the addition of Remus and Tonks. She, herself, only had one. Well, only one since everyone else had arrived. If not for her emergency reserve stashed in her middle desk drawer, she might have had to go without for the rest of the night.

"Headmistress," began Ginny, casting a mischievous glance at Harry so that he wouldn't be able to discern what she might say, "they've finally managed to finish the dishes."

"Very well, Miss Weasley," said Minerva. "I trust they are sufficiently sanitary for tomorrow's breakfast?" Both Ron and Harry snorted out quick laughs.

"Of course, Headmistress," replied Ginny, totally ignoring both the ludicrosity of the statement and the response of her charges.

Minerva sighed. "Very well. Thank you, Miss Weasley. You may go."

With a smile for Harry, Ginny left the office. Harry and Ron, of course, had _not_ been given leave to leave.

"I'm glad you're here," said Rufus. "We've just begun going over a few things and it would be just as well if you were in on the discussion."

"Discuss away," said Harry, reaching for a cookie before noticing the futility of that action.

"Well," began Remus, "Tonks and I tracked the Minister here so we could compare notes and try to make some sense about Fletcher. We've established a few facts. First, he is definitely hiding. The aurors have nearly nabbed him twice, and the Order nearly got him once, but he's still managing to give everyone the slip. Also, the word on the street is that Voldemort would like a chat with him, as well. We're not sure why, but it probably wouldn't be a social call."

"That information seems to cancel itself out," observed Ron. "Why would he run from both sides?"

"No idea," said Remus. "The attack on Harry was as successful as could have been hoped, at the start. It didn't end up all that well, from their point of view, but it's not like we sprang a counter-trap. We also still haven't been able to determine how Dung found out about the trip in the first place, if indeed he did. There weren't that many people that knew you were specifically going to the jewelry store." He looked to Tonks, one of the official Ministry investigators, to add some details.

"At first, we thought that maybe the Sarus' were letting that out on their own," reported Tonks. "You know; bragging about a famous patron. We've checked their receipts for the last week, though, and none of their customers remember anything along those lines."

"We already knew that Dung was giving some information about the raid at Windsor Castle to Voldemort," stated Harry, bringing together all that he had been told during the last few days. "The captured Death Eater Remus talked to said as much. But before even an hour had gone by, their attention was diverted to the Sarus' jewelry store; most likely from some other source. So the attack Dung would have brought about never even happened. Then why did he run?" He thought a second. Shaking his head, he said, "I don't know. In the end, we may never know unless we catch him. Then again, learning about the trip to Diagon Alley might have just been a freak occurrence. Maybe a key sentence being overheard as we walked past the right person." He raised his hands in surrender.

"We're not done, yet," said Remus. "For now, the one thing we do know for sure is that Dung's an actual traitor; not just pretending in order to spy on Voldemort. It just doesn't seem likely that he's the one responsible for the attack on you and Hermione. We'll keep trying to figure it all out, though. If there's some sort of a leak somewhere else, we'll want to plug it."

"I suppose," agreed Harry. "At the very least, Dung's information could have gotten Tonks captured or killed.

"Speaking of dung," said Tonks, wishing to change the subject since she was the one who was almost caught, "your cousin had his hearing, this afternoon. I sat in to make sure everything went smoothly. Anyway, I'm not sure where they found him, but your aunt's solicitors hired a barrister that had the prosecutor running to his assistants more than once to check on various obscure points of law. Quite funny, at times. You don't usually see 16th century naval code used for defense in auto theft hearings. Anyway, the judge eventually agreed to reduce the charge to a misdemeanor with a fine of one thousand pounds. At least it resolves everything without a full trial."

"Assuming he can stay out of trouble in the future," added Ron. He had heard stories about Harry's cousin.

"Shouldn't be a problem," said Tonks. "His tender seems to have earned his respect."

"Tender?" asked Harry.

"Oh, you wouldn't know about that," said Tonks. "Since he was let out of prison, Dudley's had a new best friend; supplied by his auntie, of course. He's about a half head taller and only two stones lighter than the oaf. Looks like a Vinnie or a Guido, if I had to guess. We shouldn't have any more trouble."

"Excellent," said Harry. "I'll tell my aunt and uncle about that tomorrow. Uncle Vernon's almost finished with his part of the new detection system and I wanted to have a look, anyway."

"So you'll be back up and running?" asked Rufus.

"More or less," countered Harry. "We have to know their names and we can only do one at a time but we should be able to find anyone we're looking for; providing that they aren't in one of the main headquarters. Those are all unplotable."

"Better than nothing," said Ron.

"After a month or so of nothing," agreed Harry, "I'll take what I can get." He waited for a second before asking, "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Well," said Remus. "I was checking on the widows earlier and was surprised to find that the shopping trips were still going on."

"What?" exclaimed Harry. "That should've stopped until we could reevaluate the situation."

"I agree," replied Remus. "The problem is the elves weren't given any orders to that effect."

"They should have at least checked with us," said Harry, quickly. "My God. The first trip ends in a major attack and..."

"Now before you come completely unglued," interrupted Remus, sitting forward to try to calm Harry, "they _did_ recognize the need for more security. Two elves now accompany each family with additional support for larger groups. The trips are also planned in advance with some scout elves checking out each of the destinations. I'm not so sure that that wouldn't be adequate; at least for the regular families."

Harry calmed a bit as he considered this. Recognizing that he was still worked up, he passed the opportunity for judgement over to Ron with a glance.

Ron was also considering everything he'd heard. With a shrug, Ron said, "Other than either locking the families up entirely or sending an army of elves along, I think that they've come up with a reasonable solution."

"That's been going on all week?" asked Harry to verify.

"Yes," said Remus. "No problems so far. I'm not happy it happened, either, but it seems to be working out. Then again, as Ron said, we can't lock them up forever, anyway."

"I suppose not," said Harry. Another thought then occurred to him. "Speaking of house elves, who's the new Head Elf?"

"I don't know," answered Minerva, coming to that realization. "When Slider died, Jumper was the obvious choice. In fact, I don't think I appointed him so much as he just took over Slider's duties."

"Well, Jumper never had a specific second in command," commented Ron. "If he wasn't available, any one of the original Free Elves would fill in."

"Perhaps it's not our decision to make, anyway," chimed in Grampa from his frame.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, looking up.

"Well," said Grampa, "When I first started teaching here, Sneezers was Head Elf. She was quite old, though, and died during my first year as Headmaster. I didn't immediately appoint a new Head Elf, either, but Slider just started to take over those responsibilities. At the time, I had enough on my plate with learning my new job so I didn't give the transition a second thought."

"So you think that they pick their own leader?" asked McGonagall.

"Our two known examples would indicate so," replied Grampa. "I don't know how we could find out for certain, though. With the possible exception of just asking an elf, that is." He smiled his 'sorry to point out the obvious' smile and sat back in his chair where Endora resumed his neck massage.

"Millie," said McGonagall, scowling.

"What can Millie be doing for Headmistress?" asked Millie a moment later.

"Have the house elves select their own new Head Elf or is that something I should do?" asked McGonagall.

Millie didn't answer. She had gone into the now recognizable semi-trance when elves commune with each other. After a few seconds, she said, "The Hogwarts house elves isn't being choosing a new Head Elf this time, Headmistress, but it isn't being for Headmistress to choose, either."

"What was that?" asked Rufus, breaking into the conversation. "You don't choose but neither does Minerva?"

"That is being correct, Minister Rufus," answered Millie.

"Then who _will_ decide?" asked Minerva.

"_The Others_, Mistress," replied Millie.

"The others?" asked Harry. The expression had sounded familiar to him. He couldn't place it, though. Everyone looked at him with an equal amount of confusion.

"Explain yourself," ordered McGonagall. "What _others_?"

"Hogwarts elves is being choosing replacement Head Elves most times, Headmistress," explained Millie. "House elves is being knowing that this isn't being most times. Harry Potter and his friends is being fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. House elves is being helping Harry Potter."

"I understand all that," said McGonagall. "I don't see how that would justify having some other people make a decision that rightly belongs with either yourselves or me."

"House elves is not being part of any wizard war since the Old Times," explained Millie. "_The Others _is being allowing house elves to be being helping until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is being no more. _The Others _is being choosing the new Head Elf from the outside because the Head Elf is being needing to be working with Harry Potter more than being needing to be working with Headmistress."

"What do you mean when you say these others will be choosing the new Head Elf from the outside?" asked Rufus.

"He will be being sent to us when the time is being right, Minister Rufus," said Millie.

"When the time is right?" asked Remus. "When will that be?"

"The time is being right," explained Millie, "when _The Others _is being deciding the time is being right, Master Remus."

"Who are these _others_?" asked Rufus. "What have they got to do with house elves, anyway?"

"_The Others_," answered Millie, "are being the guardians of _The Voice_?"

"Bloody hell," said Harry. "I remember, now. It was just after my funeral. We were confused about something and Jumper said he could contact some others."

"That's right," said Minerva. "I remember Rufus got upset when Jumper wouldn't tell him who he'd be discussing the question with."

"And now," said Rufus, "these same unknown _others_ are sending an unknown house elf to be put in our midst." He stood and paced around the room before adding, "I'll have to admit that I'm not comfortable with this turn of events."

"Millie," said Harry, "I'll have to agree with Rufus on this. What can you tell us about the _others_?"

Millie again fell silent. After about ten seconds, she said, "_The Others _is being talking with house elves with _The Voice_. _The Others _is being letting house elves be being talking with _The Voice. The Others _is being knowing many things that may be being happening."

"What was that?" asked Harry. He had had the most extensive experience with talking with house elves as opposed to giving them orders. "The others know what will be happening; as in the future?"

"_The Others _is being knowing some things, Harry Potter," said Millie. "Millie isn't being knowing if _The Others _is being knowing all things to be being coming."

"Did they know that Hermione was going to be attacked before it happened?" snapped out Harry. His anger was starting to surface.

"Millie isn't being knowing, Harry Potter," she said. "Millie is being knowing that if _The Others _is being knowing that Mistress Hermione is being hurt before it is being happening, _The Others _is not being telling house elves."

"What's the point of knowing the future if you don't tell anyone?" asked Ron.

"_The Others _is being speaking of what will be being when _The Others _is being wishing it," said Millie. "Harry Potter and Mistress Luna is being hearing _The Others _being speaking from Professor Trelawney."

"The Prophecy!" exclaimed Harry. "The others are the ones who do prophecies." He looked at Millie in excitement. "Is that right, Millie?"

Millie, who had flinched after her last sentence, said, "Millie is being saying too much. Millie isn't being saying more." Without permission or explanation, Millie popped out of McGonagall's office.

* * *

Author's note: I know it's a short chapter, but I was a good place to stop. I'm on vacation this week so maybe another chapter will be coming along soon. See you then.

Dad


	116. Chapter 116

Chapter 116 - Back in business

November 26th, 1997

Hermione's room in St. George's Hospital

"Winky," whispered Hermione.

Hermione glanced back at her breakfast tray while waiting the three-fifths of a second for Winky to arrive. The broth, Jello™, applesause, pudding and tea lay untouched.

"What can Winky be doing for Mistress?" asked the elf, putting her hand on Hermione's arm; an act that would outwardly appear a gesture of caring, but in reality allowed an instantaneous elvish medical exam of her mistress as complete as any she'd undergone since her arrival. She smiled since the results were good.

"Take this away and bring me some food," ordered Hermione. She picked up the tea before Winky was able to remove the rest. With a pop, the elf was gone.

After a few seconds, there was a flushing sound from the bathroom, followed by some water running from the sink. Shortly thereafter, Emma Granger stepped back into the room.

"That's better," she said, sitting back into her chair. Looking over towards Hermione, she asked, "You haven't finished your breakfast already, have you?"

"There was a mistake," replied Hermione. "It's being fixed now." She took a sip of her tea. Making a face, she set it down on the table that was positioned over her bed and reached for a small jar of honey that Winky had brought the night before.

"Let me get that for you, dear," said Emma, jumping to her feet. Hermione pulled her hand back and watched as her mother removed the lid and put two teaspoons of honey in her tea, stirring it in.

"Thanks," said Hermione, raising the properly modified cup. Taking another sip, she nodded her head and smiled so that Emma knew she was satisfied. Being in London, she had already received her newspaper. Picking up her pencil, she continued to work the crossword. Emma watched her daughter for about a minute before returning to her own meal. Dan had determined that Hermione was well on the way to recovery and had returned his focus on his, and for the time being, Emma's patients. He ate his breakfast alone in their house; not considering, since it hadn't been suggested to him, that elves could transport him to London and back in an instant instead of the usual fifty-five minute, one-way drive on the motorway.

After about five minutes, Harry dropped by to visit. He did this regularly enough that Emma barely flinched. Then, she looked up.

"Ahhh!" she screamed. It was evident where Hermione had acquired her abilities.

"What?" shouted Harry, spinning around so forcefully that Reggie had to tighten his grip around his neck.

"Snake!" shouted Emma, pointing at Reggie.

"Where?" gasped out Harry, his airway becoming more and more restricted as he continued to lurch back and forth.

"_Me, idiot_," hissed Reggie, shaking his tail in front of Harry's face.

"Oh," said Harry. Any further response was cut short by the sound of leather soled shoes running their way. With a snake around his neck and full Hogwarts standard wizard's robes, complete with hat, on his body, Harry did the only sensible thing and popped off.

"Bloody idiot," muttered Hermione, slipping her Daily Prophet, with its moving pictures and unusual stories under her sheets.

* * *

A second later, Nurse Heidi Jasen burst into the room, brandishing a mop in one hand and, so help me, a Boker trench knife in the other. "Vere ist it?" she demanded, her steely eyes scanning the room.

Hermione and Emma both looked at each other before Hermione, being the most experienced with thinking quickly to mitigate her husband's actions, asked, "Where's what?"

"Der shnake," answered the nurse, looking under Hermione's bed.

"The shnake?" asked Emma. "Oh, the _snake_." She seemed to be about to answer, but was forced to turn the ball back to Hermione.

"Zume one screamed, shnake," replied Nurse Heidi. "I alzo 'eard a man's voice and zume zort of a popping zound."

"Oh, zat... I mean that," said Hermione, finally having had a few seconds to come up with a brilliant story. "My mother slipped on something and called out. It sounded like 'snake' because she said it was like skating." Okay, it wasn't all that brilliant.

Emma gave an unbelieving look at Hermione before nodding at the nurse and stating, "Yes. I just slipped." Apparently that was their story and they were sticking to it.

"I zee," said the nurse, leaning her mop against the closet door. Slipping her knife back into her jackboot, she stepped over to check on Hermione, as long as she was there. Taking her pulse and feeling her forehead, she prepared to leave before noticing something.

"Your breakvast," she stated. "You've vinished, I take it?"

"Yes," said Hermione.

Unfortunately, Emma simultaneously said, "No."

"Vun says yes und vun says no," summed up Nurse Heidi, suspiciously. "I had no idea it vaz zuch a difficult question."

"I'm finished; I'm finished," said Hermione. Emma stood mute.

After a brief look around the room, Nurse Heidi gave them all a silent stare before grabbing the mop and leaving.

"Bloody RNs," muttered Hermione.

* * *

After Nurse Heidi had left, Tripper stealthily walked over to the door and finished shutting it. Waving his arm, a bluish glow covered the wall for a split second. A moment or so later, Harry, Reggie and Winky returned.

"That'll teach you to check next time," said Hermione, softly chiding her husband before giving him a kiss. Glancing at the snake's head not six inches away, but no longer alarmed; well, not to the point of panic at least; she said, "So this must be the snake." She shooed them both back a bit so that Winky could put the properly stocked tray on her table.

Reggie leaned his head back and hissed, "_You're right. She _is_ brilliant,_" in Harry's ear.

"Isn't she, though," replied Harry. "By the way, we _did_ check before we came and the coast was clear."

"I suppose it was," allowed Hermione, reaching first for the toast and jelly. "Perhaps next time you could give some warning before you bring the snake to visit."

"_Didn't you tell her my name?_" asked Reggie, getting a bit annoyed at being referred to as _the snake_.

"Yes, I did," replied Harry, "but perhaps she's forgotten." Straightening up to his formal posture, he said, "Reggie; this is Hermione Potter. Hermione; this is Reggie, ah, the snake."

"_Charmed_," said Reggie, politely extending his tail in greeting, just as he did to Winky.

"Hello, Reggie," said Hermione, understanding the gesture. She put down her jelly knife and held out her hand to briefly grasp the tail. "Harry's told me all about you."

"And this," said Harry, turning to face Emma, "is ..."

"No, thank you," said Emma, emphatically, as she walked briskly from the room.

"_How rude_," commented Reggie, watching her leave.

"Yeah," agreed a confused Harry. "She isn't usually like that."

"Like what?' asked Hermione, taking her first glorious bite of real food in days.

"Emma," said Harry, not answering the question. "She's normally quite nice."

"Perhaps," suggested Hermione, "she just doesn't care that much for snakes."

"_That's crazy talk_," retorted Reggie. "_Who doesn't like snakes?_"

"Most people," replied Harry, honestly. "Of course, most people haven't actually had a chance to sit down and talk with one."

"_True enough_," agreed Reggie.

"Harry," said Hermione, "it's not that I don't appreciate the visit, but ..."

Pop! Three new visitors entered the room.

"Good morning, Greta," said Harry, picking up the somewhat groggy girl and giving her a hug. "Minerva. Rufus."

"Good morning, Harry," said Rufus. "Hi, Reggie." He reached up and patted the snake on the head. He then followed his nose around to look towards Hermione. More specifically, he looked towards Hermione's breakfast.

"Hello, Greta," said Hermione, putting one hand on her tray to steady it while lowering her other arm to give Greta something to hold. "Careful of the hose, dear." Minerva was closest, so she moved the intravenous stand out of the way.

"Hi, Herminy," said Greta, still giving an acceptable hug. "I'm just _so_ glad you're getting better."

"So am I," said Hermione. "I'm hoping to be able to go home, today."

"Today?" asked Minerva. "I thought that the earliest the healers were considering was tomorrow afternoon."

"Well," replied Hermione with some firmness in her meaning if not her voice, "they have their schedule and I have mine." She scowled a bit as she sliced off a bite of sausage.

"Normally," said Rufus, "I'd be on your side. In this case, however, you might want to let the professionals make those decisions."

Hermione snorted. "Professionals? You should have seen what they thought passed for breakfast." "I thought so," said Minerva, taking away the tray piled high with hash browns, sausage, eggs, cauldron cakes, toast, assorted fruit and cherry cheesecake. "Elf. Take this away and bring..."

"Wait," shouted Rufus and hoarsely whispered Hermione simultaneously.

"You've already had breakfast," said Minerva to Rufus.

"There's always room for more," rebutted Rufus, grabbing for the cheesecake. Minerva spun the tray out of his range.

"You weigh quite enough as it is," she replied. "Believe me."

"Harry," snapped Hermione. "Do something." Her breakfast was getting away and she wanted him to catch and return it.

"Um, right," mumbled Harry. "Ah, Minerva. I think that it's important for Hermione to keep up her strength, so ..."

"Mr. Potter," interrupted Minerva with her Headmistress voice. "I'm certain that even this muggle hospital has people sufficiently trained to provide Mrs. Potter with the types and quantities of food she is currently able to eat while achieving the proper nutrition she needs to survive."

Harry nodded and turned back to Hermione in defeat. She wasn't understanding.

"How can you give up that easily," she said. "You've gone toe to toe with basilisks, spiders, dragons, Death Eaters and Voldemort, himself and never backed down."

Harry turned back as if to try again, but McGonagall beat him to the punch. "Do you fight _women_?" she asked, staring him down, once again.

Harry shrugged. "Sorry, dear," he said. He took the tray from Minerva and set it on a small table across the room. "Have a seat, Rufus." Rufus quickly obeyed.

"Where's my wand?" muttered Hermione, looking around.

Winky, listening to all of this and agreeing that her mistress would probably be better off with the soft food, fetched the original tray and returned it to Hermione's table.

"Oh, I just _love_ applesauce," gushed Greta, perusing the so-called food.

Hermione gave the other adults one last unhappy glance before picking up the bowl and handing it to Greta. "Knock yourself out, kid."

* * *

Around the same time, in the Great Hall

Ron and Honey floated in on Ron's carpet and took their usual places. As luck would have it, Ginny and Luna were discussing one of the assignments from Transfigurations.

"Good morning," said Luna to the both of them.

"Good morning," replied Honey. Ron, of course, had to just nod her way since it was impolite to talk while your mouth was full. He was normally mute for the first ten or so minutes of any meal. Honey began to prepare her own breakfast.

"Pardon us for bothering you, Honey," said Ginny, "but Luna and I were trying to figure out the proper solution for this variant you threw at us on problem three. Since Hermione isn't here, we thought you'd have the next best chance of being able to help." Ginny was a master at the backhanded compliment.

"Problem three?" asked Honey, more to give herself time to wake up enough to engage in technical discussions that to verify the request. "Is that the one about stiffening the fur on marsupials?" She continued to fill up her plate as she waited for the answer.

"No, Professor," replied Luna. "It's the specific modifiers necessary when transfiguring ungulates with bifurcated hooves into tetrapods with retractable claws." She turned around both the parchment where she had written down the assignments and her textbook, so that Honey could see.

"Oh, that one," said Honey. "I thought I said that was extra credit."

"You did," replied Ginny. "Luna and I could both use a little boost to get our grades up; that's why we're trying to figure it out."

"It seems that it's been brought up in class, before," added Luna, "but it isn't explained in the book; only mentioned."

"I know," said Honey. "Hermione had it in her notes that she'd gone over it when she took over for me. I wanted to see if anyone remembered any of the specifics."

"That's where it was," replied Ginny, snapping her fingers and looking at Luna. Turning back to Honey, she said, "Like Luna said; we both remembered hearing about it, but couldn't place when."

"Don't worry about it," said Honey. "It isn't officially part of the syllabus, but it's useful to know. I'll schedule a lecture on the subject in the next week or so." She turned back to concentrate on her breakfast as the first of the mail owls began to arrive. As usual, now that her father was running things, Luna's owl brought her paper first. Alphabetical or not, Luna's name was first on the list for north bound deliveries.

"Anything new on the attack?" asked Ginny, since her owl hadn't yet made its delivery.

"Let's see," said Luna, scanning the front page. A few seconds after turning to page 2, she said, "It's not really about the attack, but there's an article here on ..."

"No!" shouted a woman's voice from the far side of the hall. Everyone looked up at the sound, of course. Hannah Abbott's face had gone white. She could be seen mouthing the word 'no' once more before springing up in tears and running to Professor Sprout.

Ginny, making the logical assumption that something in the paper had distressed her, grabbed Luna's copy and quickly scanned the headlines. Nothing looked all _that_ bad.

Luna, on the other hand, already knew that and watched a very weepy Hannah confer with the professor. When Hannah showed Professor Sprout the letter that had set her off, Luna gasped in disbelief.

"What is it?" asked Ginny, feeling some of the sorrow emanating from Luna.

"That letter," said Luna, pointing. "It's the card that the Hufflepuffs sent to Laura."

"The card?" asked Ginny. She was actually smart enough to figure out what Luna meant, but had to say _something_.

"Shh," said Luna, trying to see if she could gather any more information from observing Hannah and Professor Sprout. After just a few more seconds of talking, Professor Sprout turned from Hannah and said something inaudible towards an empty spot nearby. A muffled pop was heard and, although it remained blocked by the tablecloth, Luna deduced that an elf had been summoned and was being given orders. Her suspicions about the cause of this turn of events more or less confirmed, Luna turned back, silently crying.

"What's happened?" asked Ginny, putting an arm around Luna.

"Laura Dinsdale," said Luna, finding it hard to talk. "Something must have..." She had to take a moment to collect herself.

"The girl whose mother died?" asked Ginny. She looked back in time to see Sprout say one last thing to Hannah before the prefect nodded her head and walked silently back to her table. "You don't think she's died, too, do you?" Luna nodded.

"Just because that letter was returned?" asked Neville. He had to admit, though; Hannah's and Sprout's reaction to it fit Luna's conclusion.

Luna, with the ability to discuss a tangential subject easier than the bare facts, nodded again and explained. "The official owl service only delivers once per day. The Hufflepuff card was sent out yesterday. By being returned today, it was never delivered anywhere else. Usually, that means that the recipient can no longer be found."

Neville and Ginny; and by now several other students from their end of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, looked around their group in concern.

"Just because a letter can't be delivered," said Dean, "doesn't mean she's dead."

"There're lots of ways an owl might not be able to find you," added Seamus.

"That's true," said Luna. "Unfortunately, it takes some powerful magic to keep an owl from knowing where you are. The Unplottable Charm, for instance. Even then, the owl would have a general idea of where you were. In that case, the standard procedure would be for the owl to deliver to the nearest owlry."

"That's right," agreed Mandy Brocklehurst. "I think you're right, Luna. The only way that letter would be returned, and so quickly, would be if Laura had died, somehow."

They all sat quietly, trying to think of an alternative that fit the information and reactions of Hannah and Sprout. Before anything came to mind, there was a pop from near the instructor's dais and McGonagall appeared next to Sprout. Sprout handed the envelope to McGonagall and indicated a label that had been fixed to the outside. Upon reading it, McGonagall collapsed into her formerly empty chair and put her head into her hands. The news that something bad had happened was already spreading across the hall quietly, but efficiently. By the time the Headmistress looked back up, the room was silent as every student waited for some sort of an announcement or explanation.

Within a couple seconds of each other, two events happened that required the students to make a choice to commit their attention in one direction or the other. First, a popping sound was heard from out in the entranceway of the castle. Before those inclined could effectively turn to investigate, though, McGonagall steeled her nerves and stood before the podium. Harry inconspicuously walked through the doors and sat at the far end of the Gryffindor table, thus releasing everyone else to concentrate on the headmistress.

"I'm afraid I have some terrible, terrible news," began McGonagall. "This has not been verified, but an official Department of Owlry notice has been affixed to one of the letters of condolence sent to Hufflepuff student Laura Dinsdale that indicates that she has... died." A hushed, but persistent murmur swept across the hall as the confirmation of the fears of many of the students was given. Harry, having only just arrived, was as shocked as any by the revelation.

"Now, this has not yet been confirmed by any other means," cautioned the headmistress. "I will try to do so by the noon break. In the meantime, we shall attempt to continue with classes, but the instructors are hereby authorized to allow as much time as may be necessary to help the students, especially those in Hufflepuff, to deal with this very sudden and unfortunate event. We'll figure out how to make it up as necessary. Additional information on this tragedy will be passed along as it becomes available." Still shaken, McGonagall addressed the Hufflepuff table directly and said, "I'm so very sorry," before she returned to her seat. Sprout then rose from her chair and joined her house.

* * *

Harry, being a latecomer to breakfast, made his way up to his customary bench to see what could be learned. Taking his place, he lost no time.

"What's happened?" he asked. "Besides the obvious, of course." He was fortunate to have had a few bites of Hermione's intended breakfast since he had since lost his appetite.

"You've just heard," informed Ginny. "We don't know any more than you do."

"This will be such a terrible blow to her family," said Harry, "coming right after her mum. Does anyone know if she had any brothers or sisters?"

"I think she..." began Luna.

"Funny, isn't it?" snapped a sharp voice from the Hufflepuff table. Henry O'Stonnall, a largish fifth year stood and approached the knot of students around Harry with a young man's courage. "Funny, that within just a few days of the maiming of Potter's wife, both Laura and her mum both show up dead."

"I didn't have anything to do with this," snapped back Harry, springing to his feet. Ron floated over the table to take his position to Harry's left while his other nearest friends also rose, but remained stationary, for now.

"I didn't say you did," shot back O'Stonnall, not pulling back in the slightest. "It's just an odd coincidence."

"Why would there even be a connection?" asked Ginny. "Laura's family didn't have anything to do with it. She wasn't even from Slytherin."

Luna turned back towards Ginny, a bit of sadness in her voice as well as hesitation, before stating, "It's true that Laura, as well as both of her parents, were all Hufflepuffs; but her father _is_ a Death Eater."

"That's her father?" asked Ron. He seemed shocked, which would be most people's reaction, but it seemed he knew something more.

"Who?" asked Ginny. "Do you know him?"

Ron looked at the small crowd gathering around. It was definitely too late to cast the Muffliato spell. Deciding to give a partial response to keep everyone from continuing to wonder what he might know, he said, "The name's come up in our _research_. Since she wasn't in Slytherin, I thought he might have just been a relative of some sort, if they were related at all."

"Even so," said Harry, "I don't see how you can accuse me of..."

"I didn't accuse you of anything," retorted O'Stonnall. Taking a breath, he continued with a more subdued voice and stance. "I really didn't. I... I'm just upset, I guess. Laura was a friend. For a second, it seemed to make sense." He couldn't really put it better than that.

Hannah came up and put her hand on Henry's shoulder. "Harry understands," she said. Facing Harry, she continued with, "We're Hufflepuffs. It's in our nature to look after one another."

Harry nodded his head. Giving Henry a friendly look, he brushed off the confrontation. "It's okay, mate. It's natural to look for the bad guy when something like this happens. My sympathies for the loss of you friend."

The group broke up and its former members regrouped in other clusters to discuss the loss of the less known, but likeable witch.

"Do you think there _is_ a connection?" asked Harry, once he had his core team around him. "It wouldn't be unlike Voldemort to kill an entire family if this Dinsdale did something wrong in the attack."

"No," agreed Ron, "it wouldn't. Still, we'll probably never know." He pulled back as he realized his wife was feeling especially down. Putting his arm around her, he noticed her tears were falling on an essay on reptilian transfiguration. It was the last assignment she had received from Laura Dinsdale. Apparently, it wasn't just the students who would need time to adjust.

* * *

By noon, Harry and Ron had finished their classes for the day and headed down to their office to check in with Martha.

"It's about time you came to visit," she scolded. "There are quite a few people who'd like to speak with you." Her lunch sat on the office table. She had an open-face roast beef sandwich, a small dish of mixed vegetables and two large buttered rolls. Butterbeer seemed to be her beverage of choice, today.

'What about?" asked Harry. He took his seat as Ron floated over to the small stack of unread daily reports. None took more than a foot of parchment.

"About your unscheduled vacation from curing them, I'd suspect," replied Martha. Walking over to the calender, she folded up November and pointed at the 14th of December. "You've got less than three weeks left until the next full moon. At best, that means just over thirty more will be cured before the next cycle. We currently have seventy five scheduled. They're doing the math and have figured out that any further significant delay will mean that at least some of them will have the January moon in play."

"Bloody inconsiderate of Hermione to be nearly killed," replied Harry, sarcastically. "She should have realized how that would affect other people's appointment books."

"I agree that they should feel lucky to still have you around," said Martha, sitting back down. "The cold truth is that the uncertainty is taking its toll. We've had a couple of fights break out already. As those on this side of the next full moon kept finding themselves pushed back, tempers started to flare up. It's only natural, I suppose."

"Natural?" asked Ron. "How could they think Harry'd be worried about them while Hermione's fighting for her life?"

"They understood that part, Ron," replied Martha. "No one expected Harry to leave her side until she was out of danger. It was later..."

"Once she had a better than fifty-fifty chance to recover, you mean," interrupted Harry, hotly. "I'm starting to think Hermione was right and it was a mistake to agree to cure them."

"The only mistake," countered Martha, "was underestimating how important it is to them. You've nearly bought it twice in the past month. They're all thinking; selfishly, I'll grant you; that if they don't get cured soon, it's possible they never will. You are, after all, their one and only hope of being cured."

"Well, maybe I..." began Harry before calming down. "Maybe they're just reacting like anyone else would have. I saw what it did to Fenrir when he thought his chance was gone." He sighed.

"You don't have to start today," said Martha. "I think all they're really looking for is a return to some sort of a schedule."

Harry looked at Ron, for no particular reason. Ron shrugged, having no other response available. "Alright," agreed Harry. "I'll start back up _after_ Hermione's back home."

"Fair enough," concluded Martha. "So when will that be?"

"Well," replied Harry, smiling, "_the doctor _says Friday; tomorrow afternoon if she's good. _Hermione_, on the other hand..."

"So she'll be coming home today?" asked Martha. Her smile had a bit more of an experienced look to it.

"Possibly," said Harry. With a continued look from Martha, he upgraded to, "Probably."

"Well, I'm glad she's coming around," said Martha.

"So are we," agreed Ron. "I don't think I've ever seen Honey hitting the books so hard to prepare for her N.E.W.T. classes."

"She didn't before?" asked Martha.

"Well," admitted Ron, "up until now, about all she had to do if someone asked a complicated question was say 'What an excellent point. Who can give us the solution?' Hermione can't help herself."

"I suppose not," agreed Martha.

"Say," said Harry, sitting forward, "did my uncle ever finish his _thing_?" He wasn't embarrassed by the vagueness of the question, being confident that Martha knew what he was talking about.

"Works like a charm," replied Martha. "I'm not sure when he came down this morning, but my crew were already running it by themselves, with just a few corrections from Vernon."

"That's great," said Harry. "Let's go put in a name and see what happens." He stood up with Ron rising to join him.

"It's lunch time," said Martha, holding her plate up as evidence. "The elves know how to make it work. Out the door and to your left." She put some extra butter on her roll and tucked in.

* * *

Ron and Harry made their way to the _thing_, as Harry had put it. Having grown up with magical devices, Ron was quite awed by the shear mass of the machinery in front of him. The contrast was heightened by the disparity between the delicate locator; a handheld device with a wispy arrow on top, and the several ton amalgam of shafts, gears, dials and piano wire. Taking a position that seemed to be out of range of the three swinging arms, Harry called over what appeared to be the ranking elf.

"Pounder," he called, "have you got a minute?" He waited as Pounder stepped off a small platform and came over.

"What can Pounder be doing for Harry Potter?" asked Pounder.

"I'd like a demonstration of your new toy," replied Harry. "Specifically, I'd like to know where a Death Eater named Dinsdale currently is. I'm not sure of his first name."

Pounder nodded and turned to face Tripper, who had taken his place on the platform. He consulted a new book on a podium nearby before touching his finger to the side of the small Death Eater detector mounted to the main unit and softly said something.

"Death Eater Dinsdale is being named Howard, Harry Potter," informed Pounder. He then turned to watch, as did Harry and Ron, as the tiny shaft atop the small device moved a delicate set of rings and disks to a new position. Once it had stopped, another elf pointed his finger at a hand crank on the larger unit and the prime beam began to swing. Harry had to admit that it was an impressive sight; an obviously massive amount of steel glided effortlessly across the map table without so much as a squeak. As it neared its apparent destination, the spinning slowed until the elf finally turned the crank manually until a rapidly moving disk next to a stationary one had their identically engraved graduated numbers line up with each other. While this was going on, the other two slave beams had also begun to swing. These were magically bound to two other Death Eater detectors in Norwich, England and Tralee, Ireland. Each slave beam had an elf assigned to do the final adjustment just as had been done with the prime beam. In less than forty seconds from when Harry had first given the name, all three of the piano wires crossing the map had come to a full, and highly accurate stop.

Tripper quickly checked the full angle given by each beam and recorded it in the book. With a look at Pounder, his work was completed.

"Tripper is being telling Pounder that Death Eater Howard Dinsdale is being in or being near the Dark Lord house of Ninebanks, Harry Potter," said Pounder. "House elves being in map room is being marking where Death Eater Howard is being if Master Ron or Harry Potter is being wanting to know more."

"Show me," said Harry, curiously. He and Ron followed Pounder into their office and on through to the map room. They came to a stop in front of the map of Ninebanks. The normal outline of the unplottable manor, as well as a few simple landmarks on the grounds were as they had seen before. New to the map, however, were a few widely spaced hash marks with consecutive numbers on them. They were located on three lines forming a rough triangle.

"What are these numbers?" asked Ron, indicated the lines.

"Elves is being using them to be being placing the Death Eaters, Master Ron," replied Pounder. At this point, the book from the locator machine appeared on the table next to them. Pointing at the three numbers next to Howard Dinsdale's name, he explained, "The last two numbers is being the same as the numbers on these lines, Master Ron. The first number is being 115.02 so the Death Eater is being somewhere along here." He drew a line from the .02 hash mark perpendicular towards the center of the map. "The next number is being 40.73," he said without further explanation but drew that line in as well. Remaining silent, he just indicated the third number, 249.49, and drew that line. The second two numbers came close to being parallel with each other but the first bisected both so the accuracy was still there. Howard Dinsdale, at the moment he was detected, was somewhere in the north wing of Voldemort's current headquarters.

"Very impressive," said Ron. "That's almost the same accuracy we had with the other maps."

"Yes," said Harry. "Pity it's only one at a time."

"True," said Ron. "Better than nothing, though."

"Much," agreed Harry. "Well done, Pounder."

"What happens if the Death Eaters aren't near a location that already has a map?" asked Ron.

"Master Vernon is being saying that the numbers is being able to be finding the spots the Death Eaters is being if it is being necessary," said Pounder. "There is being two ways to be being doing this, Master Ron. If Death Eaters is being staying, a team of elves is being going close to spot with three more Death Eater finders and is being able to find Death Eater with no problem. If Death Eater is being gone, then elf is being sent to near spot with Death Eater arm and arm is being tracked until arm is being where Death Eater was being."

"We'd also be able to start recognizing when a spot came up more often," said Ron, "and either just note that or make a new map."

"That is being right, Master Ron," agreed Pounder.

"Where's Snape?" asked Harry. He didn't think it would work, but he wanted to see what would happen.

Pounder stood quietly, staring into the distance while his counterparts presumably entered the professor's name and activated the device. After about ten seconds, he said, "Elves is not being knowing, Harry Potter. Professor Snape is not being found by Death Eater finder."

"We figured as much," said Ron to Harry. "The real top shelf Death Eaters will also be the most protected."

"Worth a shot, though," said Harry. Turning to Pounder, he said, "I'm quite pleased, Pounder. I understand that the information won't be as complete and up to date as the old way, but this is going to help us out quite a bit."

"Thank you, Harry Potter," said Pounder. As he was no longer needed, both he and the book popped away.

* * *

"Too bad it won't work on the Snape level Death Eaters," commented Ron as they left the office.

"I know," agreed Harry. "Or anyone without a mark. Of course, if someone unmarked is in range of a map, they'd show up anyway."

"True," said Ron, "unless they're inside one of the..." He broke off as they came around the corner and noticed two visitors. Three, if you count the elf.

"Good evening, Uncle Vernon," said Harry, "Aunt Petunia. We've just been trying out your machine."

"Works great, doesn't it?" said Vernon, proudly. Petunia smiled up at him, happy to see her husband return to his more satisfied, fulfilled self; last seen some twenty years earlier.

"I'll say," agreed Harry. They all stood silently for a bit as the beams started to move in their graceful arcs. A few readings later and another entry was added to the book. The elves moved on, tirelessly.

"I'm sure that Karl's glad it's finished," added Petunia. "You two haven't been golfing for days."

"Karl's clubs is being ready, Vernon," commented Kreachure, hopefully.

"So are mine," said Vernon. "Let's go tomorrow. I've just a bit of work to finish up. That should be done by noon then we'll head over to the club for lunch and a round."

"I thought you were finished," asked Harry, indicating the perfectly working machinery in front of them.

"Oh, I am," replied Vernon, "with this, that is. I'm fixing the gearbox for an overhead crane. They've been using the highest speed a bit more than was good for it. Simple enough job."

"I see," said Harry, catching on that Vernon was probably going to keep his part time job. The thought brought up something that had been put on the back burner.

"Could you wait for just a moment?" he asked, not waiting for a reply. It would, literally, take just a moment. Harry stepped into his office and took an odd lump of steel from a shelf. Bringing it back out, he handed it to his uncle.

"Looks like a bit of shaft," said Vernon. Petunia looked on curiously and drew the same conclusion.

"It is," said Harry. "That's a piece left over from the pendulum of the Westminster clock. We need a new one."

"A new clock?" asked Vernon, confused.

"No," said Ron, laughing. "Just the pendulum. We need to take the old one and replace it so no one knows we did it."

"And," added Harry, "it has to be balanced so it keeps perfect time, just like the original."

Vernon looked over the shaft for a bit before commenting, "Sounds interesting. When do we start?"

Before Harry could answer, Karl grumbled, "No golf tomorrow."


	117. Chapter 117

Chapter 117 - Goodbye Bedpans

November 26th, 1997

Shortly after six-thirty, in the Voldemort stronghold at Ninebanks

The Dark Lord dropped his fork on the moist crumbs which were all that were left from the two pieces of devil's food cake that Dinky had provided for dessert that evening. Pushing back his plate, he rose and started to make his way to his rooms. Tomorrow was going bring another assault at Diagon Alley, although much smaller than the previous one. In his mind, he reviewed the timing, location, diversions and assignments for the mission to retrieve the wife; no, make that widow, of his formerly fairly loyal minion, Joe Diben. He wanted to capture her alive so that she could be questioned about... He stopped. He thought. He thought, some more. "Now why, exactly, did I want her in the first place?" he mumbled to himself. She had lived under Potter's protection for about three weeks. According to his spy, she had, as had everyone else, spent some time talking with both Potter, his mudblood and a few other high-level members of his circle. Their discussions could be revealing, of course. It just seemed that there was something specific he wished to know that precipitated the need to capture her as soon as possible. He had delved so completely into that goal that he had forgotten the purpose. Noticing that some of his men were watching, he moved on towards the door. Perhaps it would come to him.

Something was about to come to him, but it wouldn't be his lost memory. As he walked in his semi-aware state, Tanger Colgate stood up and tapped his left finger against his head while his right hand remained concealed beneath his robes. This was the signal for his four men to leap to their feet and pull their wands. One of the men had to audibly incant the Stupify Spell, but the rest remained silent. With practiced synchronization, five red beams converged on the Dark Lord.

To his credit, Voldemort got about half a shield up before they hit. That only allowed him to remain conscious as he flew back ten feet and collided with Oscar Limepuller, an action which resulted in Limepuller's face being smashed into his cherry pie as Voldemort rolled on over and into the arms of a very surprised Jerry Curtz, causing the two of them to crash to the floor.

It took almost ten seconds for anyone in the dining hall to move on from staring. The virtually unanimous first thought for everyone was 'How does this affect me and my chances of living another two minutes?' After that, those nearest Voldemort rose from their chairs and offered assistance in helping him regain his feet. Limepuller used the edge of the tablecloth to wipe the majority of the pie filling off his face. Curtz, the clear loser in this exercise, apart from Voldemort, waited for a few seconds to catch his breath before accepting some aid for himself. It was around then that those not otherwise occupied remembered that an attack had just occurred and that the perpetrators were just standing there. A few half-hearted and confused wands were pulled before Snape decided to speak up.

"Wands down, please," he intoned from the head table where he was still finishing his dessert. He had arisen shortly after the attack and waited for a reasonable time to observe what everyone, from his master on down, would do. Shock appeared to be the most common reaction. "This was merely an exercise. The Dark Lord is unharmed, of course, but I think everyone's reaction time to a supposed threat to his safety could use improvement. Let's try to do better at protecting our master, next time. Remember, however, that those participating in the attacks are under orders, so try not to kill them." He sat down to the limited chuckling at his presumed joke.

Voldemort, figuring he had about fifty seconds, stood up straight and erect. He wasn't exactly pleased with Snape's impromptu explanation for why he had _allowed_ himself to be hit, but figured it would do with short notice. Deciding to play along, he added, "Good work, Colgate. Don't be surprised if I don't wait for my men to _protect_ me, next time. That seems to have been a bit optimistic on my part." With a few parting glares, he left through the door and quickly made his way to his quarters.

As he entered, he instructed one of his guards, "Fetch Snape," before closing the door. Once inside his soundproof room, he bent nearly double and hobbled over to his bed where he collapsed in pain. His chiropractor would be making a house call, tonight.

* * *

A half hour later, in Hermione's room at St. George's

After having grudgingly finished her officially sanctioned meal of chicken broth, bananas, rice and pudding, Hermione was currently working on her fourth helping of a fabulous, yet perfectly allowed dessert, considerately brought by Winky. It consisted of a generously buttered slice of light toast with a sprinkling of cinnamon sugar topped with a copious amount of applesauce. An identical layer was then added plus a final piece of cinnamon toast to top it off. The toast soaked in enough of the fluid components to make it properly soft for her consumption while losing none of the flavor. Hermione used a sharp knife to cut off her bites without squishing everything into oblivion.

"Where in the devil is that doctor?" asked an impatient Emma. Dr. Lorian had poked his head into the room a half hour earlier stating that he just wanted to check in with his office and he'd be back in a moment. Despite being a doctor herself, Emma failed to realize that medical personnel measure time differently than normal people. To them, the phrase 'I'll just be a moment' is the same as 'I'll be back when I'm good and ready.' It was fairly obvious that he wasn't ready.

"We should count our blessings that he's agreed to come at all," said Dan. "It's well past the end of his shift, after all, and he's already told us that Hermione wouldn't be ready to leave until at least tomorrow afternoon, if then."

"Well, that's seems to have changed," remarked Emma. "Just after lunch, he came by for her regular exam. He commented about how well she was doing. Then he and Hermione had a little chat, and the next thing I knew, he was talking about releasing her tonight."

"Odd, that," said Harry, noncommittally. He gave his wife a smirk which earned him a 'You'd better keep your mouth shut!' glare.

"Wasn't it, though," said Emma, sincerely. She thought about the events from that visit and said, "Perhaps we should ask him why he..."

"You don't need to bother about that," said Hermione, waving her hand in front of Emma as if giving a blessing.

"Of course not," replied Emma, getting a more relaxed look on her face.

"No," added Hermione, soothingly. "The doctor knows what to do."

"Yes," replied Emma, nodding. "He'll know best."

"These aren't the droids you're..."

"Harry!" snapped Hermione, almost louder that would be advisable.

Dan laughed. "I think _I'll _have a talk with the doctor; when he gets here, that is."

* * *

A few hours later, back at Ninebanks.

Kyle Notzobad lay awake. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. The feeling was jolted into existence earlier when he had witnessed his master being attacked by some of the other Death Eaters. While shocked as much as anyone, a small part of him had thought 'Serves him right.' What the Dark Lord had done to deserve being flung across the room eluded him, though. Getting up, he put on his robes, including his winter cloak.

"What's up?" asked Julie, sleepily.

"Can't sleep," replied her husband. "Thought I'd take a walk."

Julie watched as Kyle pulled on his gloves. "Want me to come?" she asked. Considering the extra weight she was carrying with their fast approaching child, she definitely didn't want to go for a walk; far from it, but she could tell something was bothering Kyle.

"No," replied Kyle after a bit of thought. "You go on back to sleep." Smiling, he added, "The two of you need it." He walked towards the door.

"Okay," agreed Julie, fluffing up her pillow. "We can talk when you get back, if you wish." After all these years, she had come to accept her husband's occasional strange moods. Without further comment, Kyle left their room.

Passing the guards at the back entrance, Kyle wandered about the overgrown garden that had once flourished on this side of the compound. Letting himself take whatever course seemed right, he was utilizing a gift similar to that of Luna Lovegood, albeit in a somewhat weaker version. He could sense things with the slightest of clues that remained hidden to others. The feeling was different this time, though. It was almost as if he _should _know something, but didn't.

Eventually, he meandered around until he came to an old and withered pear tree. Long past the ability to bear fruit, it nevertheless was his destination; of that he was now sure. Looking down, a small stone lay on top of the already fallen leaves. There was nothing distinctive about this particular rock, but it had obviously been placed their recently. That was the feeling that Kyle came to resolve. This rock, odd as it may sound, was not where it should be. From deep within, he sensed that he, himself, had participated, somehow, in placing it there in the first place. Picking it up, he dusted off the dirt and debris that had become attached to the bottom and carried it like a baby in the crook of his right arm. Now, to find its rightful resting place.

Heading west, he eventually came across an old cart path that was once used in this part of the valley. Following the worn tracks, it eventually took him to the main road. Turning left, he continued on. The rock wasn't getting any lighter, but for some reason, he chose to not transfigure it into something easier to carry. The phrase 'Once is enough' came to mind. Again, he felt personally responsible for setting things right.

After another ten minutes, he came upon the old cemetery that he, along with several others, had visited just the day before. Walking up to the still fresh grave of Helen Dinsdale, he felt that the stone belonged to her and she'd want it near. He placed the rock next to the headstone. That wasn't right, though, so he put it on top of the dirt. That was closer but still not right. Pulling his wand, he excavated about a foot of the loose soil and lowered the stone in, reverently. That was it. Restoring the mound to its original condition, he paused for a moment of contemplation before heading back to his wife. Unknown to him, Laura could now rest in peace.

* * *

The Next Morning

November 27th, 1997

"I need to_ what_?" asked Vernon, incredulously.

"Stick your head in the bowl," repeated Harry. His pensieve lay on the table before them. Harry's memory of their trip to the Palace of Westminster was swirling around inside. "You'll enter my memory of a visit to the clock tower. This way, you can familiarize yourself with the place as well as figure out what sort of equipment or whatever you'll need when we make the real visit."

Vernon looked at the large bowl, taking the extra step of peering into the foggy mist swirling around inside. Through the wisps, he thought he could make out some of the details of the structure they'd be supposedly visiting. "What if I don't fit?"

It was a fair question. Despite a severe loss of excess body fat since his 'death', the diameter of the pensieve was still somewhat smaller than the diameter of Vernon.

"You'll fit," reassured Harry. "We've had seven or eight people in there at once. When you get inside, you'll be able to walk around and everything."

Unconvinced, Vernon nevertheless had a question that implied he accepted the possibility of his entering a memory. "How do I get back out?"

"Well," thought Harry, mulling over his answer, "You sort of have to _want_ to get out. Then, you push up a bit with your toes as if you were trying to float to the surface of a lake from the bottom. You'll pop right out, so be ready to steady yourself at the end."

"Right," said Vernon, skeptically. "Look. Maybe we should just go right to the actual visit."

"There's really nothing to worry about," said Harry. "I only want to make two trips to the bell tower. Once to get precise measurements and once to get the pendulum. There're cameras and other devices everywhere. The invisibility cloaks should keep us hidden, but the less time we spend fumbling around, the better."

Vernon didn't like to agree, but he had to. 'Cat burglar' wasn't one of the terms that came to mind when people thought of Vernon Dursley. He needed to plan his actions before he made the actual trip and this was an ideal means to do that, safely. He took a deep breath while giving the pensieve a last, worried look. "Well," he said, finally, "here goes nothing." He closed his eyes just as his face was about to become immersed in the mist.

At first, Vernon thought that he was going to be sick, but that passed so quickly as to not be a problem. He remained hunched over the bowl while waiting to be sucked inside. Apparently, it wasn't working.

"You can stand up now, Uncle Vernon," said Harry, tapping him on the shoulder.

Vernon opened one eye and, no longer seeing the pensieve, he stood up straight in confusion. That didn't get any better since the first thing he saw was Harry, by now a full twelve feet in front of him. This was disconcerting since he also saw Harry, standing just to his left. A man that he didn't know was talking to Hermione, the other Harry and an older man with graying and thinning hair.

"The one talking is named Clive," said the Harry next to him. "He's the head maintenance man here." He led on past the many cabinets and tables, stopping only to point out the chunk of steel that resided in one. "That one's really made out of wood. You have the original." Vernon took a moment to take a glance before hurrying after the group.

The party walked around the corner to where a small door stood closed. Clive used his key and opened the door, reaching to his right to turn on a light before stepping through to a catwalk. Harry and Vernon followed and managed to catch up just in time to hear Clive say, "There's the pend'lum."

"Will you be able to reach everything from here?" asked Harry. He hadn't taken into account that this particular location, in real life, would be anything but easy to navigate with a ladder.

"Not sure," said Vernon, looking up. "I might be able..." He broke off and backed out of the room as the party from the memory came back down the catwalk.

"Did you see enough in here?" asked Harry, as they let the group go by. "I can put just this bit in later if you need more time. When you reach the end, you don't have to leave until you're ready."

"I've got a pretty good idea on what I'll need," said Vernon. He nodded towards the stairs as Rufus began to climb out of sight and said, "We'd better get going."

They didn't have any trouble catching up to the already winded Rufus and arrived at the next floor with everyone else. Vernon immediately located the top of the pendulum. It lay nestled behind an assortment of gears and wheels. Two spoked hubs that would remain motionless for most of the time but suddenly fly off briefly when the pendulum hit either of two curved pieces of metal with a large ball on their tips gave Vernon cause to be especially careful, despite the fact that he couldn't be hurt in a memory. Listening carefully as Clive explained the operation, he nodded to himself before squatting down to get a closer look at how the pendulum was actually attached.

After a minute or so, he said, "These parts look a bit fuzzy. Is there anything we can do about that?" He turned to face Harry.

Harry, for his part, faced the other way, but had heard the question. Without turning, he said, "We've found that using werewolf memories give the best results, but we haven't had any do this place, yet. I could probably pop in at night myself and take a closer look."

"It's this part here," said Vernon, pointing.

Harry didn't turn around right away, but eventually glanced back. "Okay," he said, softly.

Vernon walked up behind Harry and looked where Harry was looking. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening. The other Harry, Hermione and Rufus were just listening to Clive. Preparing to ask his Harry a question, he noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks. Instinctively returning his gaze to the other group, he realized what had set Harry off. Hermione was standing there. She wasn't doing anything special at all; but she was uninjured and whole. That afternoon, Harry would be heading to St. George's to watch as Hermione tried to stand for the first time in five days. Vernon didn't have a clue on what would be an appropriate act on his part. Reaching up behind Harry to put a hand on his shoulder, he was shocked to nearly the point of peeing his pants when the quarter hour bells decided to go off.

Harry, after first waiting for his own heart to start up again, checked on his uncle. Vernon was holding on to one of the corner posts of the great clock; head down and breathing deeply. "Are you alright?" asked Harry. His tears had been startled away.

"I will be," replied Vernon, breathlessly. "Just give me a second." After another twenty seconds, he had regained his normal state and said, "Let's get out of this ruddy bowl."

* * *

Just after noon, in the Widows' Wing.

"Just as I thought," said Madame Pomfrey, putting her wand back into her pocket. "She has acute otitis media; commonly referred to as an ear infection."

"Oh, dear," said Cathy, cuddling her daughter close to her bosom. "Seth and Jerome both went through a period when they got them all the time, too." She looked as distraught as she was feeling.

"I have something right here," said Poppy, reaching up to her second from the top shelf in her premixed potions closet. "This is infused mullein oil. It will help with both the discomfort and the infection." She poured some out of the larger bottle into a small vial. "You'll want to warm it up, but just luke warm. Three or four drops every six hours or so. Put a bit of cotton in the ears to keep it from dripping out. She'll feel better in an hour or so but don't stop until I check her again." She handed Cathy some cotton balls and finished with, "I'll drop by on Monday. She should be doing pretty well by then."

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," said Cathy, looking at the mullein oil. "Four drops every six hours." She looked at the clock.

"No more than four drops, though," warned Poppy. "Not at her age."

"Of course," agreed Cathy. "We'll see you on Monday, then." She took the hand of her escort elf and popped back to her quarters. To her surprise, Parry was waiting for her.

"Hello, Parry," greeted Cathy as the elf popped off. She took her daughter over to the kitchen and placed her on a soft pad on the counter. Pulling her wand, she slowly heated the vial to around one hundred degrees.

"Hello," replied Parry. "I thought that I'd missed you." She smiled, but her relief that she hadn't missed her target was only just submerged.

"Tracy's picked up an ear infection," explained Cathy. "She's not feeling well, but Madame Pomfrey gave me some of this." She held up the bottle before pulling out an eyedropper from her mother's medical kit.

"Those can be so annoying," commented Parry in sympathy. "Ellie only had one twice. I consider myself lucky, from what I've heard."

"I'm used to it," replied Cathy. "This is the first time I've been given this, though." She extracted the fluid from the vial and carefully administered it to her daughter.

"Having a qualified nurse on hand is one of the blessings of this place," said Parry. She watched as Cathy put the cotton in Tracy's ears. "Do you want me to hold her while you get ready?"

"Ready?" asked Cathy, confused.

"For your _trip_," reminded Parry. "Shopping and all that."

"Oh, that," said Cathy, dismissively. "I won't be able to go, today. Tracy's not feeling..."

"But you _have_ to go," blurted out Parry, anxiously. She checked her emotions as quickly as she had released them, but her fear had retained its grip. Her masters wouldn't be pleased if the plan was called off at this late date.

"I wanted to go," said Cathy. "There are lots of things I need, but Tracy's in no shape to travel, right now."

Parry thought quickly and offered, "I'll watch Tracy for you."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself," replied Cathy. "They're coming to move us in a few days. I suppose I can wait until then."

"It's no trouble at all," said Parry. "Ellie and I can look after her." She reached out to take Tracy from Cathy's arms.

"Well," said Cathy, thinking, "Jerome was looking forward to this trip. Seth, too." Nodding, she said, "Alright, I'll go. Thank you so much for taking the trouble to help." She placed Tracy in Parry's arms. Tracy, perhaps not feeling safe, began to cry.

"There, there, Tracy," said Cathy, smoothing out Tracy's hair with her hand. "Mommy will be back before you know it." Tracy calmed down but didn't exactly cheer up.

"She'll be fine," said Parry. Feigning a look of remembrance, she shifted Tracy to one arm while reaching into her robes with the off hand. "I almost forgot. Could you stop by Brannigan's Bewitching Shop and pick these up for me?" She handed a note to Cathy.

"Brownings's what?" asked Cathy, thrown by the abrupt change of subject.

"_Brannigan's Bewitching Shop_," repeated Parry more slowly. "They do light charms and jinxes. Ellie's been eating a bit more than she needs to and I asked them to make me up a set of silverware. The pieces will get heavier every bite you take, you see."

"Yes," said Cathy. "I'm not sure where this Brannigan's place is, Parry. Perhaps you should pick these up tomorrow." She tried to give the note back to Parry.

"Oh, I can't do that," improvised Parry. "Ellie would be embarrassed to death if she knew what I was buying. It'll only take a minute." She thrust the parchment back to Cathy with one of the most insincere smiles ever worn.

"Well," said Cathy, "I suppose if it won't take too long."

"Fine," sighed Parry in relief. "It's just two or three stores down Knockturn Alley."

"Knockturn?" asked Cathy, alarmed again.

"Just a bit," reassured Parry. "Now I'll take Terry back to my place so you can get ready." She turned and made her way swiftly to the door.

"Tracy," replied a befuddled Cathy. Watching as Parry left, she glanced back once more at the note before changing for the trip.

* * *

An hour later at St. George's

"Now just take your time," said Dr. Lorian. "This isn't a race." He held onto Hermione's feet as she slowly swung her legs out over the bed. Harry stood behind her, steadying and supporting her back while Emma and Dan watched from either side, ready to assist at a moment's notice if necessary. Only Madame Pomfrey remained out of range. Her job, of course, was to keep an eye on the rest of them.

"I won't be racing anytime soon," groaned Hermione as her legs were lowered towards the floor. Her feet were a good four inches from the tiles so Dan ran the electric control down until she just touched.

"So far, so good," said Emma, forcing a smile. "You just tell us when you're ready to give it a go."

Hermione waited for all of her senses to return to full capacity before nodding her head and reaching out. With Dan on the left and Emma on the right, she slowly allowed herself to be lifted onto her legs. After just a second, she said, "Back! Back! Back!" Quickly, she was returned to the bed.

"What did you feel?" asked Dr. Lorian.

"My legs," explained Hermione. "They felt funny. Weak." She took a few breaths to ward off the panic that had begun to set in with her fear of falling.

"That's normal," said Dr. Lorian, "or at least what I assume would be normal if anyone else had ever survived having a cannon ball shot through them. You might not be used to how it's going to feel. Several of the feedback nerves were severed so it'll seem like your muscles aren't all doing their part. They are, though, so don't worry."

"Right," agreed Hermione. "It felt worse on the right side."

"I see," said Dr. Lorian as he thought a bit. Deciding to press on, he suggested, "Let's just try to get you to stand, then."

"Don't panic, dear," said Emma. "We won't let you fall."

"I know," replied Hermione, smiling. With another nod, she was on her way, again.

"Very good," said Dr. Lorian. "Just try to stay standing." He watched as she steadied herself.

"Excellent," commented Dan. "Just like when you were a toddler." Both he and Emma smiled at the memory. Hermione had learned to walk once; she could do it again.

"That's right," said Dr. Lorian. "Now, try to just stand there, but without so much help." He directed her parents to reduce the amount of support they were providing.

"Whoa," gasped out Hermione as she began to lose her balance. Dan and Emma immediately picked up where they had left off. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Just a moment," said Dr. Lorian, stepping into the hallway for a second. He returned with a simple walker he had brought, just in case.

"I don't want to use that," said Hermione, automatically. She turned away in near fright.

"I don't think it would be for more than a day or so," said Dr. Lorian. "You just need something to steady you. Once you get the hang of working your legs again, it won't be necessary." He pulled the aid on over to Hermione. Adjusting the height, he indicated she should grab hold.

At first, Hermione wanted no part of it. Harry rubbed her back in understanding, though. Actually, she thought, it was more in empathy. Harry had hobbled around for several days with a cane. He didn't want to, either, but that was the way it was and there wasn't a thing they could do about it. With a quickly drawn breath, she released her parent's hands and grasped the walker. It was easy to grip and fairly stable. That was its job, though, so she moved on. "Do I pick it up or what?" she asked after trying to push it forward.

"You do what feels right," said Dr. Lorian. "Most people push it forward and then catch up. It's easier to do that if you put some tennis balls on the feet."

"I'll pick some up, dear," said Emma. "We'll help you for now, though." She and Dan pushed the walker a couple inches forward and waited.

Hermione grasped the handles tighter and, after steeling her nerves, moved her left foot forward. When it was back on the floor, it was followed by her right. She was walking!

Harry rushed around to encourage her. "You're doing great." Then, in a whisper, he added, "I'm so happy." His eyes glistened. "You're going to be just fine."

Hermione beamed at him as she, _on her own_, pushed the walker ahead another four inches. Slowly, and with great difficulty, she moved to the bathroom door. Opening it, she gushed, "Goodbye bedpans." Everyone laughed. Moving another cycle of steps into the little room, Hermione called back, "Mum? A little help, please." Emma went to assist her daughter while Dr. Lorian conferred with the others.

"It looks like it's just a matter of practice," he said. "I don't see any signs of debilitating nerve damage. In time, she'll learn to interpret the new pathways and will be able to get around just like before. Maybe never as fast, again, but it shouldn't be noticeably awkward."

"That's a relief," said Harry. "I'm guessing that stairs are out of the question, for now."

"If you have an alternative," replied Dr. Lorian, "I'd have to agree. Eventually, and you'll know when, she'll have to start back on them, as well. Don't let her muscles get too weak or it'll take longer to fully recover. As far as breathing is concerned, it seems that she's already getting used to just the one lung. Give her another week before she does anything louder than normal speech and she should be okay from then on out."

"I'll keep you informed," added Madame Pomfrey. "I'll come up with some therapy for her walking, too."

"Good," said Dr. Lorian. "Try to make sure she doesn't fall. I'd expect in a school, there'd probably be some children who would think it was funny to fool with the walker."

"They wouldn't do it twice," promised Harry, grimly. He meant it, too.

"Well, if there aren't any other questions?" Hearing none, he prepared to leave.

"Dr. Lorian?" asked Harry. When the doctor looked up, Harry added, "Thanks." He extended his hand. Dr. Lorian, momentarily surprised, shook Harry's hand.

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter," he said. "Now remember; if anything comes up, you let me know straight away."

"Will do," said Harry. "I think we'll be alright, though. I expect that the next few days will be very, very peaceful." Little did he know how wrong he would be.


	118. Chapter 118

Chapter 118 - Being Damned

November 27th, 1997

Cathy and Muriel waited inside the large lobby of the Widow's Wing. It was their turn to go to Diagon Alley to do some shopping and they were both anxious to head out. Cathy, of course, had Seth and Jerome with her. The boisterous boys were pacing impatiently around as they waited. Muriel's twin daughters, age nine, stood quietly nearby as they kept a close watch on the boys.

"I wish Parry was here," said Cathy to no one in particular. "I don't feel right leaving Tracy without saying goodbye."

"I'm surprised you're even going," replied Muriel with a superior tone. "If one of my girls were ill, I certainly wouldn't be heading out for a trip like this."

"I wasn't going to," explained Cathy, "but Parry insisted. With the potion that Madame Pomfrey gave me, I'm sure Tracy will probably sleep until I get back." She reached down and pulled Jerome's finger out of his nose.

Muriel was about to counterattack, but thought of an argument for Cathy's side. "It might be for the best, anyway," she said. "Without a stroller, dealing with the boys would be more difficult. Even with a stroller, if it came down to it." Muriel was one of the very few who hadn't sought Cathy's removal. Unlike some of the upper level Death Eater wives, Cathy hadn't seemed to embrace the haughtiness or rhetoric of someone like Narcissa Malfoy. It was this ability to see clearly that had paired the two up for this trip. It was also only going to be the one time, anyway. Cathy was scheduled to leave for good on Saturday.

"I've thought of that, too," agreed Cathy. "Especially the part about the stroller. I love Tracy, but she's no feather. Gets that from her mum."

"Hmm," replied Muriel, politely.

A few seconds later, four pops sounded through the waiting area. Stomper, Lolly, Nobby and Blinky had arrived as the escorts for the day. Stomper and Blinky wore their official red robes while Lolly and Nobby wore Hogwarts tea towels.

"Good afternoon, Mistresses," greeted Blinky. "Is you both being ready to be being leaving?"

"Ah, yes," replied Cathy, looking at Muriel tentatively, who nodded.

"Mistresses is each being assigned a Hogwarts Free Elf and a Hogwarts school elf," explained Blinky. "Blinky and Stomper is being under magic cloaks and isn't being seen." They only had the two cloaks available since the other two were in use in Hermione's room. That would change either this evening or tomorrow.

"One visible and one invisible elf for each family, then?" asked Muriel.

"That is being correct, Mistress," affirmed Blinky. Quickly pairing off; Stomper and Nobby with Cathy and Blinky and Lolly with Muriel, they prepared to pop off to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Everybody is being needing to be holding hands," called out Stomper. Each group complied and they all quickly popped off.

* * *

Around the same time at Gunderson's Machining and Small Engine Repair

"Well, let's see what this little fellow is made of," said Vernon, locking the chunk of shaft into his vice. Having a bit of reverence for historical items, he wasn't too pleased with the test he was about to make, but it was only a drop piece from the original pendulum. If all when well, however, he'd be changing out the whole thing.

Shrugging, he picked up a pneumatic grinder with a cutting wheel and hooked up the hose. "Safety glasses," he called out. His were already on, of course. He waited while Karl complied.

"Is Vernon going to be being cutting for long?" asked Karl. He was quite aware of how loud the tool in Vernon's hand could be but the ear plugs only worked so well on his large, elvish ears. Ear muffs absolutely didn't come in his size.

"Not very," replied Vernon. "I'm just making a few sparks. By watching the sparks and paying attention to a few other things, I hope to come up with a good guess on what type of steel this is."

"Vernon is already being saying that the steel is not being having stains," countered Karl. He really didn't like the noise that was going to be created in a few seconds but refused to leave his assigned job of protecting Harry's uncle.

"Oh, it's stainless steel," replied Vernon, chuckling. "No doubt about that. The trick is figuring out what grade. By watching the sparks; their color, duration, brightness and number, along with the sound of the steel itself, I should be able to come close to figuring out the actual grade, hardness, flexibility and carbon content. The final pendulum isn't going to be under any great amount of stress so close should count."

"Karl is being watching," said Karl. He put on his modified pair of protective glasses and stood off to the side with his hands over his ears. Vernon fired up the grinder and did a few sample brushes against the end. The sparks flew off in a sparse pattern of pale yellow.

"Hmm," muttered Vernon. He brought the tool up again. A deeper cut confirmed the previous information but was also sufficient to start a harmonic ringing. Entering the relative tone to memory, he set down the cutting wheel. Looking around the shop, he headed over to the stack of two inch and larger pieces of round bar stock. Selecting one, he brought it back over and replaced the unknown steel of the pendulum with a two foot long piece of 316L shaft.

"This isn't right," explained Vernon, tightening the vise, "but it might match something." He repeated the choreography from his first experiment. Removing that steel, he took it back to the pile and selected another.

"Getting cheaper, at least," he said, inserting the more common 304 grade rod into the jaws. He didn't say any more but felt the craftsman's pride in knowing he was doing something that couldn't be taught in any classroom. Humming to himself, he continued to dial in the desired information.

* * *

In Hermione's room at St. Georges.

"You're doing quite well, Hermione," commented Emma. "I'd be surprised if you'll still need the walker next week." A bit optimistic, perhaps, but not out of the question.

"I certainly hope so," muttered Hermione. "After all the 'old man' jokes I pulled on Harry with his cane, the last thing I need is to give him the opportunity to reciprocate."

"You wound me," said Harry, totally insincerely. "I'd never _think_ of retaliating for your heartless comments while _I_ was recovering."

"Of course not," retorted Hermione, stopping her exercises for a second to straighten up and glare at her loving husband. "I don't know what possessed me."

"Hold it a minute, Hermione," said Emma, first standing up and then retreating to the far side of the room.

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione who steadied herself with her walker as Harry looked on in interest.

"I'm not sure," replied Emma, examining Hermione from her more complete vantage point. Not seeing anything, she said, "Stand up straight, again, dear."

Hermione, curious by now, released the handles and complied.

"Hmm," commented Emma. "Harry, come here." Harry, as confused as Hermione was concerned, stood up and joined his mother-in-law.

"What do you think?" asked Emma, indicating Hermione. "Stand up straight." Hermione, who had barely started to reach for the handles, snapped to attention.

"Oh," said Harry, squinting to get a better look. "I think I see what you mean."

"What?" asked Hermione, ratcheting up her concern one level.

"Oh, nothing dear," assured Emma with a smile. The smile vanished as she whispered something to Harry that sounded vaguely to Hermione like "It's more than an inch. Everyone will notice."

"What?" asked Hermione, again, preparing to hobble over and ask more assertively, if necessary.

"You're, ah," said Harry, "a bit, er, _unlevel_." He looked at her and unknowingly tilted his head to the left.

"Unlevel?" asked Hermione. She followed his gaze and returned her attention to her chest. "You mean my boobs?" This last part was spoken with more of a irritated voice. She'd been pretty worried that something serious was wrong.

"Well, yes," said Harry. Emma nodded.

"I wonder why?" exclaimed Hermione, mockingly. She grabbed her walker and headed back to her bed. "Now Hermione," chided Emma, mildly, "don't be mad at Harry."

"I'm not mad at Harry," retorted Hermione. "I'm not mad at anyone. It just seems silly. After surviving getting my chest blown away and having hours of surgery and everything else; if all that's wrong is having one boob sag more than the other, I'll be happy."

"That's the spirit," said Emma, rushing over to sit next to her daughter. "Sometimes we take these things too seriously."

"It shouldn't even be a concern," added Hermione.

"Of course," continued Emma. "The important thing is you'll recover. All in all, you look pretty much the same."

"That's right," replied Hermione. "Let's just keep things in perspective." She nodded in agreement with herself.

"I think I can fix it," said Harry, tentatively as he rubbed his chin stubble.

"Do it," ordered Hermione and Emma, simultaneously.

"Okay," said Harry, thinking. "I'm going to have to see what I'm doing. Should Emma step out for a bit?"

"She's helped me go to the bathroom twice, today," said Hermione. "I'll survive."

"I'll just lock the door, though," said Emma, stepping over to the door. After a moment, she said, "There's no lock."

"Harry," said Hermione. "Lock the door."

"Emma just said..." began Harry.

"You're a wizard, idiot," interrupted Hermione, indicating the wand that Harry had already pulled. It should have been a good clue.

"Oh," said Harry. Turning, he pointed his wand at the door and a brief flash of green indicated that they'd be safe from intruders. When he turned back, Hermione was already opening her gown. They had put her in a front opening model since that was the area that would need the most inspection.

"Let's see," said Harry, taking a good look at her ample wares. It was the new one, on Hermione's right, that was a bit too elastic. "Give me a bounce so I can see what I'm shooting for."

Hermione gave her chest a flip up. For a moment, both of the bountiful orbs floated in matched apex. Then, the custom made model dropped towards Hermione's belly button while the original equipment returned to its normal position. After less than a full cycle, the new one had damped out.

"Do it again," said Harry. Hermione repeated the bounce.

"Once more," said Harry, a bit too excitedly.

"Get on with it," replied Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"Just need to tighten it up a little," said Harry, reaching under her boob. Holding it up, he gave it a quick shake.

Emma, unable to contain her curiosity on how real of a fix her daughter had received, reached out and poked the side of the breast. "It's cold," she commented.

"Then I guess that the saying is true," said Harry, smiling. "At least for Hermione."

"What saying?" asked Emma.

"Surely," said Harry, his grin broadening, "you've heard of being colder than a witch's..."

"Harry!" snapped Hermione. She pulled her gown closed out of irritation.

"Sorry," said Harry. He wasn't. "Now. Let's get back to business." He opened her robes and held up the underperforming beauty. With a non-verbal incantation, he released it. The bounce was much more subdued but the droop was still lower than the other one. Another adjustment had them within a half inch of each other.

"That's looking pretty good," said Emma. "Stand up, dear." She helped Hermione regain her footing and gave her a good look.

"It looks nearly there," commented Harry. He, too, was examining Hermione's symmetry with a disturbing level of concentration. Holding on to the errant boob, he gave it a test squeeze.

"I'm not sure how much firmer I'd like it," commented Harry.

"Well," said Emma, "if you're anything like Dan, you'd probably like..."

"Are they close enough?" asked Hermione, finally becoming somewhat embarrassed by having her mother and husband comparing notes. It wasn't as if they'd be on public display, anyway.

"I, ah, think they're pretty good," said Harry. "Just let me do one more thing." He tapped first the new breast and then the original while muttering a warming charm augmented with a symmetry additive. The temperature on both sides would once again match.

"Thanks," said Hermione, giving 'the girls' a quick check herself. "I think you've done an excellent job." She motioned for him to come over and get a kiss, which he did. "Now, let's figure out what we need to take back with us."

"Dr. Lorian said you could leave after supper," reminded Emma, "but only after he gives you a final check to make sure everything's alright."

"Everything is fine," replied Hermione, assertively. "He won't have any complaints, I'm sure. And one second after he releases me, we're out of here." She gave Harry a look to let him know she wasn't using hyperbole.

"Yes, dear," replied Harry.

* * *

Later that day, on Diagon Alley

Cathy Diben was doing her best to finish her shopping. She'd been to most of the stores she needed to visit and only had two to go. No, make that three. She had the set of silverware to pick up for Parry. It had been a normal trip so far. That isn't the same as saying uneventful. Despite having only spent a couple of hours shopping, several of the other browsers checking out the shops had gained enough experience to turn and head the other way as the Diben boys came into sight. Nevertheless, she hadn't received any threats of legal action so she was ahead of the game.

"I need to stop down here for just a moment," she told Nobby. Stomper was technically senior, but he was also technically invisible. He also knew when the plan was being changed.

"Mistress Cathy isn't being saying Mistress is being needing to be visiting Knockturn Alley when Mistress is planning Mistress' trip," informed Stomper. Those were the new rules. All stores or shops that were to be visited by the widows would first be visited by elves.

"I didn't find out until this morning," explained Cathy. "Parry asked me to pick something up for her at, oh, what was the name? Something Bewitching." She looked down the narrow beginning of Knockturn Alley. "It's supposed to be nearby." She didn't see a sign that looked likely.

"Please wait, Mistress," said Stomper. There was no specific head elf, anymore. The replacement hadn't yet arrived so the Hogwarts Free Elves had taken to consulting with each other when necessary. After a few seconds, he had the consensus answer.

"We is being looking for Mistress' shop," he explained, "but if we isn't finding it soon, we is being leaving Knockturn Alley."

"It's not as bad as its reputation," returned Cathy, "but if it's not near here, I won't go looking for it." She had been talking to the sound of Stomper's voice, but now directed an order to Nobby. "The boys and you can wait here. There's too much temptation down there. We won't be a minute."

Again, Stomper and Nobby were momentarily unsure. The point was well made, however, that the boys didn't need a further chance to get into trouble, so they agreed.

"Now you two sit here," said Cathy to her boys, indicating a nearby bench, "and wait until I get back. Don't cause any trouble."

"We'll be good," lied Jerome, nodding to his brother." He had noticed a candy shop nearby and planned on obtaining a free sample or three.

"Let's go," said Cathy and she and Stomper headed on down in search of the elusive store.

The first few shops didn't come close to having the services they were trying to find. The fifth store on the right, Bingleberry's Bobs and Gnits sounded familiar. "This might be it," said Cathy, leading the way into the shop.

* * *

While she was finding out that she was in the wrong store, two hooded men who had been casually shadowing her from across the street were checking with a special piece of parchment. "That's Cathy, of course," said Henry Jollery. He had known both Cathy and Joe since Joe had joined up. "Looks like she's got company." The parchment had two new contacts on it that were working their way through the store. One was listed as 'Cathy Diben' while the other simply read 'Someone'. That was the best Snape had been able to do, but it was enough. They didn't really care which elf was nearby as long as they knew about where he was. It was the wrong store, but would work out well enough.

"Alert the other lads," ordered his superior, Augie Rookwood. This was a fairly safe mission, given the location, and Voldemort wanted one of his few remaining upper level Death Eaters to get some field experience.

"Right away, sir," replied Jollery. He took off his hat and scratched his balding head while casually facing directly towards Bingleberry's. The simplest signals are usually the least alarming in case they were being watched.

From down the alley on either side of the store, four men approached to within twenty feet of the door. The elves, they suspected, could tell who was about if they crowded in. Their orders were to retrieve Diben's widow. If they could kill the elf, so much the better, but Jollery would get the first shot. With the map, he would take aim and fire. Two men for either group would then copy his actions and lay down a barrage in the same general area. With luck, they might get a hit. All they really needed to do was keep Mrs. Diben's bodyguard busy while the other four men captured her.

* * *

"Just three stores down," said Cathy, as she and Stomper left the shop. Looking further down the dark alley, she finally saw the sign. Pointing, she added, "There it is. They need a better sign." Stomper wasn't pleased at how his charge was constantly blowing his cover by talking to him, but he hadn't yet gathered the nerve to complain. They took about two steps when a vicious bolt of magenta struck the window mullion just over Stomper's head.

"Be running, Mistress!" shouted Stomper, throwing a protective shield around them both. They both made it another three yards before several stunners started impacting on Stomper's shield as even more powerful spells destroyed the front of Bingleberry's. One of the Death Eaters tried to grab Cathy and was rewarded by finding out she had a very mugglish skill when it came to uppercuts. His partner, however, achieved a more secure grip. Stomper attempted to put up another shield but was temporarily knocked out by flying debris before he could do so.

From down the path to Diagon Alley, Nobby came running. He wasn't trained as well as the Hogwarts Free Elves, but could still help, he hoped. Casting a simple bludgeoning spell, he threw the man holding Cathy to the ground. Cathy was then able to make it three more strides before being tackled from behind. Seeing Nobby, and more importantly, her children running towards her, she shrieked, "Get my boys out of here!" She turned on the ground and kicked another of her husband's former associates in the teeth. "Run!" she cried just before being stunned into silence. Nobby, having his orders and understanding his limitations, did what he could and used strong elvish magic to make a hasty retreat against the wishes of the struggling children.

Having their target and forgetting about the missing, but currently neutralized elf, Rookwood gave the order to return to headquarters. With a series of activation spells, the small force portkeyed away moments before a larger small force of red-robed and angry-as-hornets elves arrived. Spreading out, they quickly located and revived Stomper. Two of them accompanied Nobby and the quite panicked Diben boys back to Hogwarts.

"Mistress Cathy is being in a hidden place," declared Stomper after a short attempt to locate her. "She is being taken by the bad wizards of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." This was, in the opinion of the elves, at least, his fault. He had allowed the changing of the schedule. They should never have come to Knockturn Alley. In the elf world, though, the prevailing wisdom was that he who makes the mess, cleans it up. Assuming temporary command, he ordered the immediate return of Muriel Jones and her girls to Hogwarts. Leaving the majority of the Free Elves to find out what could be learned here, he went to make his report to his boss. In this case, that would be Harry Potter.

* * *

Shortly before all this happened, in Hermione's room

"Luna," said Hermione when Harry popped in with Luna and Honey. "I'm glad to see you, of course, but where's Ron?" Ron and Honey usually had the official afternoon shift.

"Ron has detention," answered Honey. "Professor Flitwick has him disinfecting all of the bathrooms, boys and girls, for punishment." She came over and gave Hermione a hug before sitting down. As the only one pregnant, she claimed the comfy rocker with the ottoman.

"What did he do now?" asked Hermione. "It must have been fairly spectacular if Flitwick gave him detention instead of extra homework."

"Oh, it was," replied Harry. "We were doing advanced duplicating charms and Ron missed the delphinium setting a whole foot in front of us and hit Flitwick, instead."

"I'll bet that made him mad," said Hermione.

"Mad?" asked Harry. "He was beside himself."

"Oh, my head," groaned Hermione as Harry laughed. It took Emma an extra second, but then she laughed, too.

"What?" asked Honey, as usual.

"I see Harry's getting back to normal," said Luna, coming up to check on Hermione. "How are _you_ feeling?" She looked into her eyes as she waited for the answer.

"I'm feeling... impatient," answered Hermione, honestly. "I don't have any serious pain. I can feel the difference with breathing, but it isn't so strange as to be frightening or anything. All in all, I think the best medicine for me is my own bed."

Luna paid attention to the specifics of what Hermione said, but concentrated more on finding the truth. "You're doing well, then?" she asked to get another bit of information.

"As well as I could expect," replied Hermione. "It's just a matter of time, now."

"An odd choice of words," observed Luna. "I'm not sure exactly how you mean it." She graced Hermione with her piercing stare.

"I meant that it's only a matter of time until I recover," clarified Hermione, understanding the Freudian double entendre to which Luna alluded.

"Yes," rejoined Luna, "but the other meaning is still on your mind."

"It would have to be, don't you think?" countered Hermione. She raised her eyebrows, ready for the next salvo of insight.

"Of course," replied Luna, "but you must take care to keep it in its place."

"I haven't failed, yet," retorted Hermione, "and I don't intend to."

Luna didn't reply, but merely sat on a nearby bin, leaving the official furniture to the others.

"I just love it when they chat," commented Harry. "Keeps me humble." Both Luna and Hermione turned their heads to look his way. Simultaneously, they returned their gazes to each other with mutual shoulder shrugs.

* * *

Before Harry could start to work on that Rosetta Stone, Pounder jumped up and declared, "There is being an attack, Harry Potter."

"What?" asked Harry and Hermione, together.

"Stomper and Mistress Cathy is being attacked," repeated Pounder.

"Where?" shouted Harry.

"Stomper isn't being talking," replied Pounder. He cast about for some other source of information. "Nobby is being there," he added. "Nobby is being told to be taking Mistress Cathy's children to safety."

"Where are they?" demanded Harry, his hackles fully up.

"Many elves is being arriving at Knockturn Alley, Harry Potter," replied Pounded, trying to make sense of the myriad words being sent out on the Voice. "The bad wizards is being gone."

"Is Cathy safe?" asked Hermione.

"Mistress Cathy is being... taken," replied Pounder, sadly. "Mistress Cathy is being hidden like bad wizards."

"Like the bad wizards," repeated Harry. "She must be in one of the strongholds." He looked at Hermione and asked, "Probably Ninebanks?"

Hermione shrugged. "All we know is that's where Laura Dinsdale's father was when we checked. It's a good guess, but that's all."

"Stomper," said Harry. "Have Ron brought here."

"Master Ron is not being finished..." began Stomper.

"I'm overriding that punishment," interrupted Harry. "I'll talk to McGonagall about it, later. In fact, she needs to get in on this, as well. See if she can get away and bring her here, too."

"Yes, Harry Potter," complied Stomper, popping off to speak with the Headmistress personally.

"Why bring everyone here?" asked Hermione.

"Because we need your brains on this," replied Harry, "as well as Ron's. There are a lot of possibilities here. Is this what it seems? Why did they want Cathy? Is she in on it? Those are just the ones I can think up. You and Ron probably have a dozen more."

"I understand," said Hermione. She began to consider the information they had and how they should go about getting more.

Pop. A very bedraggled Ron popped into existence along side of a Hogwarts Free Elf. "You've saved me," he declared, sighing in relief. Seeing the serious look on Hermione's face and the agitation on Harry's, he asked, "What's up?"

"There's been another kidnaping," declared Harry. "Cathy Diben. Voldemort's men attacked her on Diagon Alley."

"Knockturn Alley," corrected Hermione.

"That's right," accepted Harry. "She was on Knockturn, for some reason. Stomper and some other elf were with her."

"Nobby," said Hermione.

"Right," said Harry. "Stomper's off to fetch McGonagall." Turning to Pounder, he asked, "We'll want to talk to Nobby, as well."

"Nobby is being with Mistress Cathy's children," explained Pounder. "Pounder is being sending another elf to be being doing that so Nobby is being able to be being coming, Harry Potter." He then went into the blank stare routine.

"Were there any other witnesses that we can talk to?" asked Ron. He started to float back and forth across the floor as if pacing.

"I don't know," said Harry.

"Then I suggest you sit down and take a deep breath before you fly apart," suggested Emma. She had watched the scene unfold from the beginning. Never having seen Harry gear up before, the intensity worried her.

"I'll breathe later," said Harry. "Just a couple days ago, a student from Hogwarts was lured away and killed. I don't know if this is related, but ..." Pop. McGonagall and Tripper appeared before them in the rapidly shrinking room.

"What's happened now, Mr. Potter?" asked the headmistress. She looked about for a spot to claim for her own.

"Harry?" asked Luna, quietly. "It's getting a bit full in here. If you don't mind, I'd like to go and see Mrs. Diben's children. They must be very upset."

"Oh, of course," agreed Harry. He glanced at Hermione to make sure. She nodded her agreement.

"Let's see," said Harry, thinking. "Tripper. Take Luna to the Widow's Wing back at Hogwarts. Then see if you can locate Remus and Tonks. They should be in on this, as well."

"Hold on, Tripper," said Honey, rising. Giving a quick kiss to Ron, she said, "I'm with Luna. You're going to need all the room you can get."

"Good idea," said Emma. "I'll just grab an early supper until you've finished your meeting." She grabbed her purse and started to make her way to the closet to retrieve her coat.

"Not that you aren't all welcome," said Harry, apologetically to them all, "but I think you're also probably right."

Honey joined Luna, and the two of them were popped away by Tripper.

* * *

In the Widow's Wing.

"Where's Mama," cried Seth, running up with Jerome to confront Luna and Honey when they arrived. The elves, not used to dealing with the very young, had gone with their normal routine of honest answers. It hadn't helped to calm the boys.

"We're trying to locate her," reassured Honey, kneeling down to give them both hugs.

"What's so hard about that?" asked Kay. "She's with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of course." Her tone contained more than a little contempt that wasn't directed solely at Voldemort.

"We're assuming that, for now," replied Luna. "We're still unsure of how they knew she'd be coming. It was a fairly well-planned attack, it seems."

"Isn't it obvious?' asked Georgia. "She told them where to pick her up."

"Probably been spying on us and everything else she could find out," posited Linda. "Now, she's gone to give her report."

"And leave her children?" asked Honey. "She wouldn't do that."

"She's a Death Eater," sneered Helen. "She doesn't care about anything or anyone but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." The others mumbled their agreement.

"The initial reports we heard from the house elves," rebutted Luna, getting more than a bit upset with all the unsupported accusations of someone she had determined was a loving mother, "is that she fought quite hard against her capture."

"They might have wanted it to look like that," replied Kay. "They're probably hoping to use that as an excuse to put her back here to spy some more."

"Unfortunately for them," added Georgia, triumphantly, "she won't be here after Saturday. I'll bet that spoils all their plans."

Luna and Honey glanced at each other and mutually came to the conclusion that they were wasting their time. "Well," said Luna, looking around, "it's not her children's fault, in any event. Do any of you know where Tracy is?"

There seemed to be an initial temptation to dump all the Dibens in the same cauldron, but as the eldest was only six years old, that seemed illogical, even for the zealots. "She said that Parry was watching her," replied Muriel. "She wasn't feeling well and Parry volunteered."

"Thank you," said Honey. "Parry was Cathy's best friend here, wasn't she?"

"Her _only_ friend," corrected Linda.

"Perhaps she'd be willing to watch the boys until Cathy returns," suggested Luna. It wasn't a request for advice, but an indication to Honey that it was time to leave.

"Let's go see," agreed Honey. Rising, she took Jerome's hand as the somewhat taller Luna took Seth's.

Walking to the nearest stairwell, Honey remarked, "It's odd that she isn't out with the others."

"It might be because Tracy's sick," replied Luna. "She might want to keep her in where it would be warmer." They reached the Caro family door and knocked. After a few seconds, Ellie opened the door.

"Good morning, Ellie," said Luna. "Could we come in?" The Caro boys, having been here several times, quickly made themselves at home before any reply.

"Sure," said Ellie. "Mums in her bedroom with Tracy." She indicated that they should follow and led the way.

"Mum?" asked Ellie, stopping at the bedroom door.

"Yes," replied a tired voice.

"Company's here," said Ellie. "They brought the Mongol Horde with them, so I'll go keep them from destroying anything."

"Hello," said Parry, standing up from the chair she had placed next to Tracy's bassinet. "What do you want?" It wasn't the friendliest of greetings, but the bags under Parry's eyes tended to give the impression of insufficient sleep.

"I'm afraid that Cathy won't be coming back," said Honey. "At least not right away."

"I see," replied Parry. "I suppose you've come to see if I'll watch her children, is that it?" She said this as if expecting it.

"Well... I'm not sure," answered Honey. "We were just told that Tracy was here and wanted to gather all the children together."

"I don't know," continued Parry. "We'd need at least one more bedroom; probably two. Mary was just here this morning so we'll have to call her back to make arrangements."

"I suppose," said Honey, somewhat confused by how quickly Parry knew what would need to be done. "Of course, it might only be for a day or so." Parry gave a half-hearted shrug, but didn't comment.

Luna, having watched the discussion very closely, turned her narrowed eyes up to maximum intensity and asked, "_What have you done?_"

* * *

At Ninebanks

"Where am I?" asked Cathy, moments after being Enervated.

"I'm afraid you've gotten things backwards," said Snape. "I'll be asking the questions. You'll be answering them."

"What do you want with me?" cried Cathy, strapped as she was to an interrogation table. Snape was doing the initial questioning while Voldemort watched.

"You're not listening," replied Snape, displeased. "I suppose if it will speed things up, I'll answer. What we want from you is _everything_." Indeed, virtually everything she might have to offer in the normal sense was already known to them through her friend, and their spy, Parry Caro. Perhaps Snape would have been more accurate if he'd said 'everything else'.

"Everything? What do you mean?" asked Cathy, quite frightened, but, as yet, unharmed.

"Why did your family leave us in the first place," began Snape, tiredly. "Why did you run to Potter for protection? What really happened with your husband? Who have you talked to since you arrived? What did you say? What did _they _say? What have you seen? That sort of thing."

"I.. I can't remember everything," replied Cathy, astounded at the request.

"Oh, I'm sure you can," replied Lord Voldemort, stepping up to peer down on Cathy's face. "You'll be surprised what you'll remember with the proper motivation."

"What are you going to do?" asked Cathy.

"That depends on your level of cooperation," replied Voldemort. "This could be a simple chat, or it could be the worst and final days of your life. It's entirely up to you." He stepped back and signaled for Snape to take over.

"Let's begin," said Snape. "As you'll soon find out, we won't require transcripts of your conversations. Basically, the only questions you will need to deal with from memory are the ones that begin with the word 'why'. We'll do those first in case your memory needs jogging later on. Starting at the beginning, then. Why did you and your husband decide to betray your master and run?"

* * *

A short time later, in the conference room off McGonagall's office.

Parry Caro sat in the middle of the room. She was secured in a straight-backed chair by the Incarcerous Charm. The man who claimed first shot sat in front of her, holding his chin in his hands just under his bristling mustache. He wanted to get as much information voluntarily before going to the more reliable, but less versatile, Veritaserum. Luna, despite her obvious desire to be elsewhere, sat nearby; ready to expose any deception. The others in the room waited their turns. Harry, of course, was there. Hermione, of course, was not. Minerva, Ron, Remus, Tonks, Jack and an assortment of elvish guards filled out the rest of the room. Honey was assigned the job of looking after Cathy's children, for the time being. Ellie was too distraught when confronted with her mother's treason to do anything but cry in her room. Muriel sat with her, offering what comfort she could. The other widows had their own guilt to keep themselves occupied.

"Well," said Rufus with a disheartened sigh, "let's start with the beginning. Why?" He tried to watch for the tell-tale signs of subterfuge and concealment, but all he could focus on was the photo on his wall of Mort and Parry holding their new-born baby girl. He was her Uncle Rufus for her whole life. What could he say to her?

"Why?" repeated the bound and broken witch. "Why? He killed Lamont, that's why!" She glared angrily at Harry before breaking down in tears.

"He killed Lamont," repeated Rufus, nodding his head. "Harry killed Lamont and you wanted revenge."

"Yes!" bellowed a wild-eyed and furious Parry. "I wanted Potter dead. I wanted him dead and buried, just like Lamont."

"I see," said Rufus. "Well, you've failed to kill Harry. I'd be willing to wager that you've succeeded in killing others, though. How many has it been? Twenty? Forty?" Rufus was starting to lose control and stopped speaking entirely in order to subdue his temper.

"What about Mort?" asked Jack, taking over for his boss and friend. "Did the Death Eaters come to your house on your orders."

"No," sobbed Parry. "They gave the orders."

"You'd changed your mind, didn't you?" asked Luna, speaking for the first time during the interrogation.

"I... I did," replied Parry. "I told Snape..."

"Snape!" snapped Harry, jumping to his feet. "What about Snape?" It always seemed to come back to Snape. His fury was building as quickly as Rufus' was ebbing.

"Snape was in charge," explained Parry. "When I sought out You-Know-Who's help to kill you, they all directed me to Snape."

"Have a seat, Harry," said Minerva, gently taking his shoulder. After a momentary spasm of rage, Harry dropped to his chair, very much ready to burst.

"Go on," said Rufus, motioning for Parry to continue. "You told Snape what?"

"I told him I didn't want to go through with the plan," answered Parry.

"The plan?" asked Rufus.

"They wanted me to... to keep Mort at home," she continued, "keep him there until a specific time when they'd come and ... and..."

"They'd come and kill him," finished Rufus. "Why did they want to kill Mort?"

"They'd heard that Harry Potter was watching over the widows of aurors," explained Parry. "If Mort was killed, then Ellie and I'd be sent to stay with Potter."

"As spies," finished Remus.

"Just me," corrected Parry. "Ellie doesn't know... didn't know anything."

"So why go through with it?" asked Tonks. "Why not just _not be home _when they were coming?"

"They said that if the plan didn't work," explained Parry, "that they'd come and... and kill me and... and... Ellie. They'd come and get us, and Mort, too. They'd kill us all."

"So you trapped your own husband in his own house," sneered Rufus. "You kept him there until his killers showed up."

"Yes," said Parry, quietly. She gazed only at the floor while saying this.

"No," said Luna. "She's lying. It's close to the truth, though." She looked at Parry who didn't return the favor.

"What are you holding back?" asked Harry. He took the silent woman by the shoulders and shook her, violently. "What did you do?"

"I killed Mort!" shrieked Parry, sobbing uncontrollably. "_I_ killed him. He held off the Death Eaters. They couldn't kill him right away. He fought them for a few minutes until you got there, but he _couldn't_ win; not in the end. If the attack failed, they'd come and kill us all. When I heard Rufus outside, I had to act."

"_You _killed Mort?" gasped out Rufus, unable to accept that fact. "_You_?"

"I had to," explained Parry. "He was dead, anyway. It was the only way if Ellie were to have a chance."

"I see," said Harry, officially taking over the interview. Rufus was in no shape to continue anyway, despite his years of experience. "So your treason was complete. You killed your husband. We put you where you wanted to be. Then what?"

"Then," said Parry, "I gathered information. I sent along who lived here; what happened and when; who came by; what was said."

"How did you send this information?" asked Jack.

"I'd write the messages on a scroll," explained Parry. She then explained the procedure to send and receive owl post using John Mullenix as the go-between.

"Jack," said Rufus. "Send a team to pick up John. Search his house. There might still be some letters in transit." Jack left to use Minerva's floo to return to the Ministry. Now that Parry was discovered, Voldemort might try to destroy the entire message system, including Mullenix.

"So," said Harry, "did you have anything to do with the attack at the Sarus' jewelry store?"

"Yes," said Parry. "I notified Snape the moment I found out you were going there."

"How did you find out about it?" asked Remus. He'd been searching for anyone who might have let that slip and had come up empty.

"Potter himself told me," replied Parry, nodding towards Harry. "He said that he and his wife were going to pick up a ring or something."

"I see," said Harry. He thought a second and said to the rest of the group, "that fits. Dung had betrayed us and informed on the trap Tonks was going to lead at Windsor Castle, but when they found out where Hermione and I were going to be, they dropped that plan to come after us."

"Of course," said Rufus. "You're their number one target. You'd take precedence over virtually anything else."

"But what does Cathy have to do with any of this?" asked Luna. She looked to Parry for an answer.

"I don't know," said Parry, truthfully. "They only said they wanted her. I had informed them about the new security procedures with the elves and they came up with the plan to get her off the scheduled path."

"I see," said Harry. "Anything else to add?"

"No," replied Parry. "I've told you everything."

"We'll see about that," said Harry. "Veritaserum and legilimency over the next few days will get it all."

Parry dropped her head. "What's to happen to me now?" she asked.

"What do you think?" asked Harry, rhetorically. Signaling to Stomper, he said, "She's a Death Eater. Put he in a cell."

"A cell?" asked Parry, frightened. "You mean prison?"

"Call it what you will," replied Harry.

Parry took a breath to control her fear. "Will you at least let me say goodbye to Ellie?"

"Did Mort get to say goodbye?" replied Harry, giving her her answer.

Parry remained silent. With a nod from Harry, Stomper and Parry popped away.

* * *

After she left, Harry said, "I suppose that just leaves one subject to discuss."

"What to do with Cathy's children," agreed Luna.

"Okay," said Harry, "two things left to discuss. What are we going to do about Cathy?" He looked around for anyone with a suggestion.

"Harry," said Minerva, softly, "we've discussed this before; after you saved me. If Mrs. Diben's in one of Voldemort's strongholds, there's very little we can do for her."

Harry gulped at that but quickly set it aside. "Anyone else have any ideas?" It was all very easy to say that you had to pick your battles carefully, but when it came down to it, what you really meant was you had to choose who you would save and who you would let die.

"Harry," said Remus, standing up and walking over to put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "it's not that we don't care about Cathy. I've talked to her a few times and she seemed quite nice. I've no idea why she was picked out by Voldemort for capture, but from what I learned while investigating her after the attack that injured Hermione, she doesn't know anything of value. It's more likely he wanted to punish her as an example to the others who might want to desert. It won't hurt our side at all."

Again, Harry looked around. Finally turning his eyes to his best friend, he asked, "Ron?"

Ron floated in place, giving the subject his fullest concentration. After a few seconds, he looked at Harry and said, "I'm sorry, Harry. Since you saved Hermione, all of the strongholds have had their defenses increased. Even you can't apparate in anymore. A portkey wouldn't work unless it was specifically tuned to that location, like the ones for the Death Eaters are. They even change the codes for those every couple of days. There's no chance that the sort of attack it would take to retrieve Mrs. Diben could be waged without at least some losses. We'd be trading one life; perhaps many lives, for her's." He hoped by listing all of the possible methods and their weaknesses, he could persuade Harry of the futility of making the attempt. In the end, of course, if Harry wanted to try, Ron would go with him.

"What about her children, then?" asked Harry. He decided to attend to the other matter at hand while coming to terms with abandoning Cathy.

"Well," said Minerva, one of the official liaisons to the women and children under their protection, "I can ask if anyone in the Widow's Wing would be willing to take them in."

"That would be fine for the short term," agreed Remus, "but there's no reason to believe that the children would be hunted down. The regular foster care system could also be used. It's also likely that they have godparents."

"That would be on file," agreed Tonks. "I think that would be the place to start."

"Agreed," replied Rufus. "I'll officially assign you to that task so you won't have any trouble with the staff at the Hall of Records." They tended to be a bit overprotective, at times, of private information.

"Well," said Minerva, the host of the meeting, if not the leader, "I suppose we all have our assignments." She walked over to the crestfallen Harry and said, "I'm sorry, Harry. This is a hard lesson to learn, but you have to realize that you just can't save everyone."

Harry remained silent but nodded. Quietly, everyone filtered out of the room.

* * *

Harry walked out of McGonagall's office and made his way aimlessly through the hallways to the main doors. Looking outside, he decided that the chill weather was very conducive to his current mood so he took a left at the bottom of the steps and followed the path around to the green houses. That he'd rather walk and think instead of being by Hermione's side was quite unusual given the circumstances. Not only was she recovering from a very serious injury and planning on coming home in a few hours, she was also normally the one he'd discuss his feelings with about the situation. Well, her or Luna. In this case, however, he wanted to just be alone and think.

After about a half hour of thinking, a thought popped into his head. There was someone he could discuss this with that could give him the perspective he was seeking. Wasting no time, he apparated to his bedroom and from there portkeyed to the office.

Checking first in the map room, Harry left the office and walked over towards the block of flats they had constructed for people in hiding. One had been given a door and it was on this that Harry placed two large raps.

"Hello, Harry," said Martha, opening the door. Her shift had ended a short time ago and she was reading a magazine before preparing her supper.

"Hello, Martha," replied Harry. "Would you mind if I came in?"

"Of course not," said Martha, stepping to one side. Since he had first shown her the flat, Harry had never visited, so his purpose in coming now aroused her curiosity.

"Thanks," said Harry. He entered the flat and went over to the small dining table and pulled out a chair.

"May I bring you something to drink?" offered Martha, unaccustomed to guests other than Oliver.

"No," said Harry, quickly. "I mean, yes. Perhaps some pumpkin juice or maybe a butterbeer." He seemed agitated to her.

"Sure," said Martha, heading into the kitchen to retrieve two bottles. When she returned, Harry was standing and pacing. "Here you go," she said, placing the opened bottle on the table before taking the other chair.

"Thanks," said Harry, returning to his seat. He took a drink to moisten his vocal cords. They had become quite dry since the meeting had ended.

"Is something the matter?" asked Martha, trying to get to the bottom of Harry's strange behavior.

"Yes," said Harry. "One of the widows we have in the addition off Ravenclaw Tower was captured by Voldemort."

"No," gasped Martha, shocked. "How did they get in?"

"Get in?" asked Harry before realizing what she meant. "Oh, they didn't capture her here. She was shopping and they caught her at Diagon; sorry, Knockturn Alley. She was with her two sons and two elves."

"Did anyone get hurt?" asked Martha, extremely interested.

"No," said Harry. "Well, Stomper was knocked out, but he's okay, now. They didn't get her boys, either; just Cathy."

"That's terrible," said Martha. "No wonder you're upset."

"That's not the worst of it," said Harry. "It turned out that another widow was a spy planted by Voldemort. She pretended to be Cathy's friend but laid out the trap to capture her. She even watched her baby girl for her so she wouldn't miss the trip."

"Oh," said Martha, standing up in disgust. "How could anyone... I... Oh!" She was too upset for words. In hot temper, she sat back down and asked, "Was it the Death Eater wife? I heard we had one."

"Yes," said Harry, misinterpreting the slant of the question.

"You should never have let someone like that stay with honest folks," snapped Martha. "It's just asking for trouble." She shook her head in revulsion at the whole state of affairs.

"Just a second," said Harry, realizing something, "I think you have it backwards. Cathy was the one captured. She was Joe's wife. Joe was the Death Eater."

"What?" asked Martha, confused.

"Cathy was the wife of Joe Diben," explained Harry. "Parry Caro was the traitor."

"The widow of Mort Caro?" asked Martha. Although not personally familiar with the Caro family, she had heard her father mention his name more than once.

"That's the one," replied Harry. "It turns out that she was the one who killed Mort."

"What a piece of dung," exclaimed Martha. Having a bout of intuition, she asked, "Where is she now?"

"One of the cells," answered Harry. "I'm not sure which."

"She doesn't deserve to stay here," said Martha, flatly. "If anyone deserves Azkaban, it's her."

"I agree," said Harry. "We want to question her more fully first. Then Rufus can have her, if he wants her."

Martha put her hands up against her temples and declared, "I'm not dealing with her. The elves can give her all the conversation she deserves." She was fuming.

"Fair enough," said Harry. "I don't have any sympathy for her, either. She's the one who set up Hermione and me at the jewelry store, too."

Martha's head jerked back around to face Harry. "I don't understand," she said.

"She said she heard us discussing..." began Harry.

"That's not what I don't understand," said Martha. "I don't understand how you can find all of this out and not strike her down where she stood." She meant it, too.

"Too many witnesses," joked Harry, morbidly. "I'm not planning on doing any of the questioning, though. Temptation and all that."

"No wonder you were so upset when you got here," said Martha.

"That's not why I was upset," said Harry.

"Don't tell me it gets worse," requested Martha.

"Maybe not worse," said Harry, cautiously. "You see, Cathy was captured. You've probably heard that earlier this week, Laura Dinsdale, one of the fourth years from Hufflepuff, was lured away by the death of her mother and died the next day or so."

"No," said Martha, "I hadn't heard about that. Do you have even more bad news to add later or will this be it for the night?"

"We don't even know what happened," said Harry. "We know that her father works for Voldemort, but beyond that, it might have nothing to do with anything else."

"But you think it does," said Martha.

"It would be a wild coincidence," said Harry. "Like I said, we don't know why Laura was killed, or if she was killed. We do know that Voldemort wanted to capture Cathy to question her. People that are questioned by Voldemort don't seem to come out of it very well. There was a witch two or three years ago that had some information he wanted. She ended up with her mind ripped apart and was killed. I don't want that to happen to Cathy."

"Why don't you go save her, then?" asked Martha.

"Because she doesn't know anything of any value," said Harry, sadly. "Voldemort can get everything she knows out of her and it won't hurt us very much. But a rescue attempt could cost us lives. Everyone's against it; even Ron." He looked at Martha and said, "Do you remember when I saved McGonagall? Dumbledore told me then that it was a foolish risk. Even Minerva said so. It also cost Dobby his life. Can I risk anyone else for the sake of the wife of a Death Eater?"

Martha look at Harry sympathetically. She knew he was a good man; a brave man; a man who would risk his life for others without hesitation. But he was also an important man. If Harry died, the whole world would be doomed. "Harry," she said, "in this case, I have to agree with the others. As much as you want to save Cathy, the cost is just too high."

"I know," said Harry. "I know. Minerva said I have to learn that I can't save everyone. I know that in my head. I just don't know if I can let her go."

"You must," said Martha. "I know what it's like there. I know what she'll be subjected to, but you can't help her. She's not worth your life." She tried to impress on him the sincerity of her words.

Harry sighed. "I suppose you're right. I just wanted to talk to you. You've been there and all." He stood up.

"Anytime, Harry," said Martha.

"Just one last thing," said Harry.

"Sure," said Martha. "What is it?"

"If you were ever captured again," asked Harry, "would you want me to rescue you."

Martha was stunned by the question. The answers swept into her mind in an instant. "No," she said, bravely. "That would be foolish and costly. Things are different now. The defenses are better. You'd never make it." Harry bowed his head in sadness. "But Harry?" asked Martha, looking into his eyes, "I _would_ expect it."

* * *

Just after seven o'clock that evening, back in Hermione's room.

"I don't remember passing a more rewarding test," said Hermione. She had just demonstrated her ability to eat solid food without gagging, bleeding or screaming in pain. It was also the last requirement for going home, tonight.

"Um hmm," said Harry, vaguely. He was looking at Hermione but wasn't really seeing her. He had told her all about the discovery of Parry as being a spy and her confession. Hermione, although the one most seriously harmed by her treason that still lived, hadn't become angry so much as relieved that the leak had been stopped.

"Shouldn't we be getting her things together?" asked Emma, prodding Harry a bit into action.

"Oh, sure," replied Harry, coming out of it. He began to pick up some of the books lying on the foot of he bed and placed them in her bookcase.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Dan, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Nothing's wrong," replied Harry, automatically. He then stuck a smile on his face and added, "Hermione's coming home. What else matters?" He put his hand comfortingly on Dan's arm before returning to his task.

"Harry," said Hermione in that 'you can't fool me' voice. "You can't fool me. You're trying to talk yourself into trying to rescue Cathy."

"Of course not," lied Harry. "Furthest thing from my mind."

"What did I just say?" asked Hermione.

"You said you thought I was trying to talk myself..." replied Harry.

"Before that," interrupted Hermione.

"Ah," said Harry. "Well... Okay, I forgot."

"I said," replied Hermione, with the patience of an angel, "that you can't fool me. Before you do something foolish, I want you to think about what everyone else has said on the subject."

"That I _do_ remember," said Harry. "They all told me to forget it."

"And what does that tell you?" asked Hermione.

"That I should be careful," answered Harry.

"Harry," warned Hermione.

"Listen," said Harry. "Suppose that we come in with three groups of elves. The first group would create a diversion on the..."

"You cannot use house elves on this mission, Harry Potter," came a firm, yet soft voice.

Harry spun around at the unfamiliar voice. No one was there except for Dan, Emma and a few elves busily packing. Well, most of them were packing. One stood before him with a more regal look than the others. He wore white robes with red trim. His hair was a nearly uniform gray, but his face looked beyond the ability to assign an age; young or old.

"Who are you?" asked Harry, instinctively.

"Good evening, Harry Potter," said the elf. "My name is Monty. I'm the new Head Elf." He bowed graciously.

Harry was quite at a loss at how to respond to this newcomer so Hermione replied, "Pleased to meet you, Monty. I'm Hermione Potter; Harry's wife." She extended her hand.

Monty took Hermione's hand and after a brief and nearly non-existent shake, released it. "You're looking quite well considering your little adventure, Mrs. Potter."

"Let me finish the introductions," said Harry, trying to get used to the funny way this elf didn't talk. "These nice people are Hermione's parents; Dan and Emma." Another pair of handshakes with Dan having to bend over especially far. "This is Millie, Tripper and Winky."

"Pleased to meet you all," said Monty. Turning back to Harry, he added, "in the future, it might be less uncomfortable to not introduce me to your magical friends. Witches and wizards seem to prefer to think of house elves as part of the furniture, if the think of them at all. I'll know who they are, in any event."

"It's entirely your choice," agreed Harry, "but most of my close friends have worked with elves quite closely during the last few months and appreciate their contributions."

"How very kind of you to say so, Mr. Potter," replied Monty. "Now, we'll have to discuss the proper use of house elves outside of their normal duties at a later time. The charge nurse is approaching this room with your wife's discharge papers, so might I suggest that we _pick up the pace_." The last few words were directed with a slightly disapproving tone to the three other house elves. They got the hint and Hermione's things were packed and ready to go in no time. Seeing this, Monty disappeared and the other elves faded back into their hiding places.

The nurse brought the discharge papers, as they were informed she would by Monty. Hermione was both pleased to finally be receiving them and impatient with how long it was taking to explain them. After that five minutes of hell had ended, Hermione could almost hear her own bed calling her; not that she had ever actually spoken to it. It's just an expression and not to be taken literally. In any event, she was anxious to be done with the nurse so they could pop off. Alas, it was not to be.

"Now if you'll just have a seat in the wheelchair, you'll be on your way," said the nurse. She held the chair still so Hermione could climb in.

Hermione looked at Harry who shrugged. They were in a muggle hospital and had to leave it in the muggle fashion. With a sigh, Hermione struggled to her feet and sat down in the chair. The nurse pushed her through the doorway and turned down the hallway to the right. Dan, Emma and Harry followed her out, but Harry leaned back inside for a second to instruct the elves to wait a minute and then take everything to his and Hermione's rooms at Hogwarts.

"Here we go," said the nurse, slowing to a stop. "Now you take care of yourself and let us know if you have any problems."

"Thank you," said Hermione as Harry took the handles.

"We have volunteers to push you to the entrance," said the nurse.

"We can manage," said Harry, wishing to be off, himself.

"Hospital rules," intoned the nurse. She signaled to the side and the smallest, oldest and, as they would soon find out, slowest woman on Earth came over.

"Hello," said the centurion. "My name is Flora. Are you being released?"

"Centenarian," said Hermione, "and yes, I'm ready to go home."

The_ centurion _came up behind Hermione and reached up to grasp the handles.

"A centenarian," said Hermione, who despite her intelligence, never seems to learn, "is a person over one hundred years old. A _centurion_ is a roman soldier in charge of one hundred men."

"How very informative," said the elderly woman. "Would you like a cookie?"

"No, thank you," said Hermione, looking straight ahead.

"Don't worry. It's no problem," insisted the very senior citizen. She left the group and shuffled on over to a small desk where she retrieved a covered tin box. Three hours later, (well, not really), she made her way back and removed the lid. "I made them myself." She held the cookies out encouragingly.

"Thank you," said Hermione, grabbing a cookie and setting it in her lap. "Can we go now?"

"How about the rest of you?" offered the embodiment of nurturing grandma-hood.

"Yes, they all want one," said Hermione in a forced monotone.

"Here you go," said the kindly woman. She smiled as Dan and Emma each took a cookie.

"Are we all set, now?" asked Hermione, petulantly.

"I didn't get one, yet," said Harry, reaching to take one of the chocolate delights.

"Oh, my," remarked Flora, "I seem to be out. Now let me see. I think I might have a sheet of brownies. Would that be alright, young man?"

"Harry," said Hermione.

"With or without nuts?" asked Harry, seduced.

"With, of course," said the sweet thing, with a giggle.

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry," said Hermione, insincerely.

"Sounds wonderful," said Harry, smacking his lips.

* * *

A half hour later...

"Have a nice trip home," said Flora, turning the now empty chair back towards the revolving doors.

"What a nice old lady," said Harry. "We should invite her over to dinner, sometime."

Hermione didn't respond, instead choosing to make a most heartfelt request. "Could you please take me home?" She looked up at him with pleading eyes and his heart melted as it always did at the sight of her.

"Of course," he replied. Looking around, he helped guide her and her walker to a hollow in the wall of the hospital.

"We'll stop down as soon as Hermione feels up to the trip," said Harry to Dan and Emma. "I'm sure Emma's as eager to sleep in her own bed as Hermione is."

Emma nodded, but then commented, "I thought that Hermione was supposed to spend the first night in your school's hospital."

"That was before I got my wand back," said Hermione, dangerously.

"She'll be fine," said Harry.

"Good luck, dear," said Emma, giving her daughter a final hug. The Grangers then stepped back as Hermione reached around Harry as he did the same to her; walker included, and they both popped away.

"Oh, I've missed you so," gushed Hermione, hobbling over and gently sitting on the edge of the bed before flopping onto her back.

"I've missed you, too," said Harry, hesitantly, "but don't you think we should hold off on anything strenuous for a few days?"

"What?" asked Hermione, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about." Rolling over and spreading out over the middle of the bed, she ordered, "Now be a dear and go find something to do. We want to be alone." She grabbed a couple of the loose pillows and clutched them to her in comfort.

"Welcome back, Hermione," said a voice from across the room.

Both Harry and Hermione were shocked at the unexpected visitor. Hermione was unable to immediately spring to a sitting position, but Harry had his wand out and had turned in an instant. He quickly put it away as he recognized the person.

"Luna," he said, shocked. "What are you doing here?" Indeed, a more pertinent question would have been 'How did you get in here'. The room was password protected, after all.

"I had to speak with you before you left," said Luna.

"What?" asked Harry. "I'm not going anywhere." The last sentence was spoken with the fear of someone who suspected they had been found out.

"We both know that isn't true, Mr. Potter," said Monty, stepping out of the shadows. He had been standing next to Reggie, at the time.

"Harry," said Hermione, looking at him suspiciously. "What's going on?" She was starting to put the pieces together but hoped she was wrong.

Harry stood silent, gathering his courage and making his decision; once and for all. Opening his eyes, he said, "It's no use, Hermione. I have to go after Cathy."

"No!" shouted Hermione, paying the price with a short bout of coughs.

"I have to," repeated Harry. He turned to look at Monty. "You said the elves can't help. Why is that?"

"The house elves are not warriors, Mr. Potter," explained Monty. "Not anymore. They have been allowed to help you fight Lord Voldemort because he is an extraordinary threat to the magical world. When Dobby assisted you in the rescue of Headmistress McGonagall, a great debate was begun regarding the limits of their help. In the end, it was decided that the boundary would be placed at that level. The headmistress is not crucial to your efforts, but she is important. Her rescue attempt would be acceptable. Mrs. Diben is not involved in the fight against Lord Voldemort, therefore elves will not be allowed to aid you."

"Fortunately, the decision won't have to be made," said Hermione. "Harry isn't going." She was becoming quite upset with both her husband and the elf.

"The decision has already been made," said Luna, stepping forward, "and nothing is going to change it." She looked at Harry, proudly, but with fear in her eyes. Looking directly into his eyes, she said, "Don't forget your mission. Get in and out as quickly as you can. Never look at anyone for more than a second or they'll feel it." She gave Harry a gentle hug and stepped back.

"Harry?" asked Hermione, the fear also in her voice.

"She's right, Hermione," said Harry. "I'm going."

"But why?" asked Hermione, tears running down her cheeks as she, too, knew that the die were already cast.

"Because I have to," replied Harry. "Voldemort has done great evil to the world and he'll do more. I can't stop it all; I know that. But I'll be damned if I'll just stand by while he makes those children orphans; not when I have a chance to prevent it." He had his stern face firmly fixed and she could tell that he meant every word.

"I understand," she replied, finally. "Good luck."

Harry came over and gave her a soft kiss. Even now, it was not a kiss goodbye. "I'll be back," he said, changing his muggle leather coat for his dragon hide wizard's cloak.

"Don't do anything stupid," said Hermione, sending him off with a weak smile.

Harry gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged before popping off.

Author's note: For those who haven't been paying close attention, the section on the old woman and the cookies is a sparsely used running gag in the story. Hermione knows everything, including that she is in a story. She corrected the narrator and had to be punished.

Dad


	119. Chapter 119

Chapter 119 - A New Hope

November 27th, 1997

Harry popped into the office of the Fortress of Solitude. Walking over to the cupboard, he retrieved a pain relieving potion, a sleeping potion and a portkey/target pair. Setting the target on the table, he pocketed the rest. Stepping into the map room, he located the map of Ninebanks.

"Excuse me," he said, nudging the elf on duty to one side. The chair was hopelessly small, so he leaned over to operate the map. He wasn't looking for any names; just movements. Starting at around two o'clock, he slowly advanced the time forward.

They had been lucky to be wrong about the nature of the new marks. While expecting them to reveal Death Eaters in the open, it was assumed that anyone in a secured and unplottable facility would not be detected. That turned out to be wrong. Unfortunately, anyone without the mark, like Cathy, would remain hidden. Harry was working on the assumption that Laura Dinsdale's father, who had been found at Ninebanks when sought by the new Death Eater finder device, was at their latest headquarters. Looking at the map, he seemed to be right. The elves couldn't track everyone, like they had before, but quite a few were placed at Ninebanks.

Quickly leaving the active map and stepping over to the master drawings, he withdrew the detailed map of Ninebanks. This map had been drawn after repeated visits through a pair of cooperative Death Eater's memories. It indicated various rooms and their purposes. He saw two possibilities. The first was the general detention area. That was on the east side with three main chambers with a few high security cells. Up in the northwest corner, however, was the interrogation room. Much smaller, it was only used while actively questioning someone.

Harry looked at his watch. It was approaching eight o'clock. It was difficult to tell where to look first, based solely on the time. Trying to memorize the floor plan, he quickly gave up and just folded it up and stuffed it in his cloak pocket.

Passing through the office, he took his father's invisibility cloak off the wall and draped it over his arm. He then spotted the portkey target and had a better idea for its placement. Picking it up, he touched his ring to the crossed wands on the wall.

* * *

Appearing in the hospital ward, he placed the charm on a nearby bed. Having completed his mission to this location, he prepared to leave when an unexpected voice stopped him.

"Harry?" asked Poppy. She was tending to some business in the far, and less well lit end of the ward. "Is everything alright?" She maneuvered through the rows of beds and stopped before him.

"So far," said Harry. He motioned towards the charm and added, "I don't expect it to stay that way, though. Will you be here for the rest of the night?"

"I planned on it," answered Poppy, "but I won't be alone for at least part of the time."

"Part of the time?" asked Harry, confused.

"Rolly; Professor Triffle," she said, "is stopping by for a late snack. We might be visiting for quite a while."

"Just make sure he's up in time for his first class," suggested Harry.

"I always do," replied the nurse. "So, are you going to tell me why my plans might be interrupted this evening?"

"I have to go on a trip," said Harry. "When I come back, I might have company that could require your services."

"Who?" asked Poppy.

"Cathy Diben," replied Harry.

"But she was cap..." replied Poppy before catching on. "Oh, Harry." She looked on with a very worried expression.

"With luck, I'll be back within the hour," said Harry, stepping to an open spot on the floor.

"Good luck," said Poppy, meaning it more than ever before.

With a grim smile, Harry apparated to the top of the Astronomy Tower. It happened to be an overcast night, so no one was there except for the elves keeping watch on the castle. They stopped their scans for a moment and bowed their heads in respect. They knew his plans and their new limitations. After waiting to see if he would give any orders, they resumed their assigned task.

Harry reviewed the exterior of the Ninebanks stronghold in his mind. He had walked along with Savan and Kamalia in their memories as they surveyed the area. He had done the same with two captured Death Eaters. One pair had highly detailed memories but no knowledge of the compound itself while the other spent little effort on examination but knew where to go to enter. That was sort of the crux of the problem, right now. With the old Dark Mark, only those who possessed it could enter. The building itself, however, was not unplottable. Now, he hoped, the situation was reversed. If they had developed a new charm to prevent those without the new Dark Mark from entering, he might be stuck.

"Well," said Harry, aloud, "there's only one way to find out." He draped the invisibility cloak over his entire body. Concentrating on a boulder some five hundred yards from his target, he apparated off.

* * *

Harry had a hard time getting his bearings. This time of the year, it had been at least two hours since all traces of twilight had vanished and the sky was heavily overcast. Pulling his wand, he set it on his hand and incanted, "Point me." The wand spun around until it pointed due north. Since he knew he was on the western side of the building, he had what he needed.

At first, he considered just walking in the direction that the stronghold should be and hope to luck and memory. Then, as if from another mind, the thought occurred to him to try to let some of his Fawkes instincts take over. Being glad that he was alone in case this didn't work, he let his mind go blank as he gazed towards the east. For the first couple of minutes, nothing happened, but he kept with it. Then, as if from the shadow of his mind, an outline appeared. With that outline, the trees on the slope began to adjust their position and the outline became more of a shape. Not trying for anything like a sharp focus, Harry walked warily towards the image.

At first, it was just like a walk in the dark; a lot like it, as it turned out. The soft breeze that had existed when he had arrived had stiffened considerably. Still, he considered that to be his good luck. Any small animals that might have been frightened by his passing and help to alert the sentries were snuggled in their burrows with their mates. Harry envied them that comfort.

Within just a minute or two, he came across something that was unwanted, but not unexpected. The Goblin anti-apparition ward surrounded this entire area, it seemed. He supposed that just popping in would have been too easy, so he pushed on. After another few hundred feet, he encountered the next level of defense. A blue wave of power shot out from the building in all directions. Before he could blink, Harry was hit by a petrification charm of some sort. It wasn't particularly powerful, though, and he quickly dispelled it. Shaken, he watched for anyone or anything that might follow. Nothing happened. Thinking he might have just triggered some sort of automatic trap, he continued on.

As he came within a hundred yards of the door, he began to feel a new sort of resistance. No, make that a foreboding. He felt as if it might be a better idea to leave this area and take a different route. Different route? What does that mean? Harry was confused by his feelings until he realized that it was just part of the defensive spell system. Ignoring his desire to leave, he pressed forward.

Approaching the walkway to the door, he began to perceive the presence of two individuals. One was seated on a makeshift stool while the other leaned against an opaque expanse of what could possibly be an outer wall. He took Luna's advice and didn't concentrate too hard on actually seeing the guards, but instead tried to determine just their positions along with which way they were facing. The difficulty in doing so was increased by the fact that their hoods, pulled over their heads for protection from the cold, were flapping wildly in the wind. Then there was the door, itself. How could he hope to open it without being detected.

Understanding that he couldn't enter without being noticed, he decided on doing so unremembered. Pulling his wand from underneath the invisibility cloak, he cast first the Obliviate Tractus spell on both of them and then Petrificus Totalus. Standing between the guards, he reached out with his senses and was relieved to find no one on the other side within his range. Cautiously touching the knob, he opened the door and stepped inside.

* * *

The mists of the Unplottable Charm dissipated the moment he stepped over the threshold. Holding the door just slightly open, he first cast the Finite Spell to remove the petrifications and then the Obliviate Expleo so they wouldn't remember anything. Quickly and quietly closing the door, he sighed in relief. Only then did he look around.

He was in a sufficiently, if not brightly lit entranceway most prominently distinguished by the plethora of cloaks lining the walls on either side. There were a few empty pegs, of course, but for the most part, it seemed like Voldemort's forces were inside. 'Wonderful,' thought Harry to himself. 'One alarm and I'll be trampled to death, if nothing else.' He was beginning to see the wisdom his friends were trying to share when they said it was foolhardy to attempt this mission. Well, he was already here so he crept further inside.

He hadn't taken more than three steps before two men came around the corner. Harry backed against a wall, hoping he wasn't pressed against either of their cloaks.

"I'm guessing a fox," said the taller of the two. "They seem to be able to trigger the alarm more than most other animals." He slipped on his cloak.

"Possibly," said the shorter, but more portly of the pair. "Had two just last night. I'd have hoped that they'd have enough sense to stay in on a night like this. Takes a certain amount of brains to trip the bloody thing." He also dressed for the weather.

"Could've been a pair of them," suggested the first man. "The talisman indicated near human levels of intelligence." Harry felt slightly affronted. He was relieved, though, that the Petrification spell he had encountered didn't cause a general alert to go out. It was just a precaution, it seemed.

The men walked swiftly towards the door. Opening it up, they greeted the guards and headed out to investigate the 'near human intelligence' that had apparently been detected.

Harry didn't wait around for their report. Making his way to the end of the cloak room, he glanced around. Each direction had its share of problems. The passage to the north, which could lead to the interrogation room, was fairly narrow. Although only forty or so feet long, with doorways to two rooms right and one left on the way, if anyone happened to use it while he was traveling the other way, he wouldn't have much of a chance of not being bumped. From the shifting shadows and muffled voices, all three rooms were occupied with people. Heading to the east meant traversing the entire width of the building. If Cathy was still in the interrogation room, it would also be a wasted trip and he'd still have to make his way to the corner room currently relatively near. Still, from his memories, the main section of the stronghold was mostly large and open rooms. Only at the end would he be confined to hallways, again.

Mentally flipping a coin, he decided that Cathy would have already been questioned for up to six hours. If she was still alive, and if they wished to keep her that way, they would have had to have stopped and let her rest. Seeing a small table and rough bench just inside the next room, Harry crossed the intervening distance and sat down. The sound of a page turning made his heart skip a beat, but he remained as silent as possible. One other man shared this room with him. He wore an intricately knitted red and yellow sweater and blue jeans. His hair had once been reddish-brown but now had more than a few strands of gray. A few other strands had apparently taken a holiday. He wore comfortable looking slippers and was reading a magazine. It was a specialty periodical on herbology. Harry was surprised to see someone who looked like a mature, thoughtful man of sophisticated taste calmly reading a magazine in the midst of so many maniacal madmen working to take over magical Britain. Could he be a prisoner? It didn't look like it. Perhaps a consultant of some type.

Harry was startled back to the task at hand when the man, seemingly disturbed by something, pulled down his magazine and looked around the room. As Luna had warned him, Harry quickly averted his eyes. He had been staring and in the quiet room, the other occupant had felt it. 'Don't do that again,' he thought, chastising himself. After a few seconds, the reader resumed his article. Not daring to sigh in relief, Harry slowly pulled out the map. He'd chart only a few rooms at a time. If he was put off track, he wanted a fresh and accurate idea of what lay around him. From here, he should go through the doorway on the far side; through the next room and out another door to the right. That would lead to the main dining room. At this time of night, it shouldn't be very crowded. He'd reassess his route from a corner of that room. Refolding the map, he headed into the next room.

Taking one step in, he quickly backed back out and flattened himself against the wall. A burly man with a handlebar mustache and a wide grin entered the room. "Jerry," he said, boisterously. "I've been looking for you."

"Harcort," replied Jerry. He lowered the magazine, resignedly, but smiled back at his friend.

"A few of the blokes wanted to have a quick game of darts," said Harcort. "Money might be involved, but I wouldn't want to wager a knut without you on my team."

"Of course not," replied Jerry. He set his magazine on the table next to his chair and followed his friend.

Harry, with a sudden inspiration, followed the pair. Harcort created quite a wake when he walked and didn't spend a lot of time muffling his steps, either. Together, they all followed pretty much the course Harry had wished directly into the dining room. At that point, however, their paths diverged. Letting his benefactors turn off to the right, he found a smaller table nearby that had one chair already pulled out. Sitting down, he again pulled the map. From here, there would be three possible paths to the detention rooms. The first was the straightest, shortest, but most used, it seemed. Watching for just a minute, Harry determined that using the straightest and shortest route would not be effective since everyone else knew it was the straightest and shortest as well. Those halls led many places and were probably the original means to get around before the building was magically enlarged.

The second option might be better. Harry didn't see anyone using that doorway. It led through a small room and directly into the kitchen. From there, he could enter what would normally be the servant's corridor and head to the less used areas of Ninebanks. He was about to do just that when a thought came to him. Dinky would most likely be in the kitchen. Although the sister of his own house elf and probably of equal temperament, she was the property of Lord Voldemort. If she saw him; a likely possibility since he doubted the invisibility cloak would completely conceal him from her; she might sound an alarm. Too risky.

The third path led through the personal quarters. Not yet being nine o'clock, he might not find many people making their way to their rooms. He stayed where he was for a few minutes; watching the third door. He also kept an eye out for those engaged in the dart game. Originally sixteen players divided up in eight teams, the first tournament was narrowed down to just four players. Harry noticed that his team was still in it. _His team? _Since when did he root for Death Eaters? Deciding to leave before the next match started, he walked to the door diagonally opposite his corner of the room.

* * *

Stepping through, he was surprised at how homey it looked. The floors and walls were clean and well maintained. The narrow halls were short, each ending in a larger open area that served as sort of a hub to lead off in other directions. As Harry went down the correct hall, he noticed that each section of four or five rooms had its own marked bathroom. Benches were plentiful so those waiting for others would have a place to sit. Three witches were using one such bench as a nice place to knit and visit. From some rooms, music or other programs being transmitted on the WWN could be heard. Perhaps most shocking, he walked by a large room full of toys and brightly colored posters and furniture. It was past their bedtime, of course, but Harry had a hard time getting a handle on the idea of Death Eater children playing in the Dark Lord's fortress. It just didn't seem right, somehow.

Nearing the end of the living quarters, Harry used one of the benches and sat down before the final run. Checking his map, he saw that the next turn led directly to the detention center. There would be guards and locked doors everywhere. Other charms and protections might also be in play. Steeling his nerves, Harry headed out.

He met no one as he neared the first cell. No guards on duty and the door hung open. Hardly worth checking, he nevertheless took a peek inside. Four cots were lined against a wall with a small table and four equally decrepit chairs around it.

Around the next corner, he came across a different sight. This time, one guard stood outside a locked cell. He cast the Obliviate Tractus spell as he had earlier, followed by the Petrificus Totalus. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Moving next to the guard, he looked though the small, barred window. A young man sat on the single cot in the room. There was no table or chair. The man didn't seem particularly distressed to Harry but more resigned to reality. Harry had no idea why the man was in his cell but he didn't seem to be particularly mistreated, so Harry moved on.

Peeking around the next corner, things became a bit more dicey. This corridor was quite a bit longer than the others. Two doorways were guarded with two additional doors visible. The guards weren't grouped together, either. He couldn't just erase everyone's memories and then petrify them since the flare from the first petrification would alert the other guard. He had to think of something else. After a few seconds, he decided to gather some further information before starting something that could lead to a fight.

Moving as quietly as possible, Harry walked down the hallway. The closest guard was being helpful by leaning against the wall next to the door instead of the door itself. Harry looked through the little window. He was surprised to see none other than Florian Fortescue and Garrick Ollivander. Their cell had only the guarded door in common with the previous one. Two fairly nice and comfortable looking beds were against one wall in the carpeted and furnished room. Bookshelves lined one wall while a workbench took up the breadth of another. All sorts of odd and complicated tools were on its top. The two men were playing cards, apparently to pass the time. It would seem that Voldemort had an ongoing use for both of them and wanted them to have something to lose if they resisted. Harry started the back of his mind to working on how to retrieve not only Cathy, but Fortescue and Ollivander, as well. He then moved on to complete his current task.

* * *

The first room on the opposite side of the hall was empty. It looked like it could only take one prisoner. The cot had fresh linens on it, though. If Dinky was like Winky; and Harry suspected that she was, then it wasn't out of the question to assume than this cell had been prepared for Cathy. Harry was doubly depressed at this thought. For one thing, it meant that he'd have to go to the interrogation room to find Cathy. For another, it complicated the task of rescuing Fortescue and Ollivander. The invisibility cloak was only so big, after all.

The next room on the left; also unguarded, turned out to be a simple supply room. It was the last room, however, that nearly caused him to cry out when he looked inside. A few mattresses were tossed on the floor. They were the only items of furniture or comfort in the room. Nevertheless, they remained empty. The room was not devoid of people, however. On the far end, nearly out of sight, Harry could see the legs of a woman lying on the wood floor. He couldn't see the other occupants, but his Fawkes senses told him there was another woman and a boy, as well.

Instinctively realizing that this was the twin to the basement room that had housed Hermione and Martha, and suspecting that the occupants inside were there for an identical purpose, Harry took a step back and dispatched the farthest guard with a non-verbal bludgeoning spell. The one closest to him, automatically following the path of the spell to his comrade, turned back and almost touched the hilt of his wand before he, too, was down. Listening to determine if he had been heard, Harry welcomed the silence and proceeded to make up his new plan.

Unlocking the cell door, Harry entered. He pulled his invisibility cloak off of his head and looked around. As expected, the two women were naked. They were also asleep on the floor. Held between them; not in a sexual way, but as if offering comfort, was a young, naked boy. His presence confused Harry, but then he didn't consider that Voldemort's personal valet and traveling chef might have warranted a reward from his master. Not having time to ponder any of this, Harry roused the women. "Wake up," he hissed in a stage whisper. He shook the nearest one by her foot. "Wake up."

The one who had been shaken was awake in an instant. She looked confused. The door had been left open. The man wasn't attacking her. It was so unusual. Her fellow prisoners began to stir.

Harry quickly conjured three small cloaks. Handing them to the first girl, he said, "Get these on. We're leaving in a few minutes."

She took the cloaks but was no nearer comprehension. She had had this sort of dream before, but not with this level of clarity. "We're leaving?" she asked in disbelief.

"Keep your voice down," ordered Harry, glancing back at the door. Turning back to her, he said, "Yes, but keep as quiet as possible. I have to get the others." Leaving her to get dressed, he left the room.

Retracing his steps, Harry returned to the first guard, still standing in front of his door. Looking inside, he said, "Get ready to leave."

"Who are you?" asked the man from inside his cell. Standing up, he looked at Harry and asked, "Where's the rest of you?" Only Harry's head was visible, after all.

"Don't worry about it," replied Harry. "Keep your voice down." Opening the door, he asked, "Who are you?" He hoped he wasn't some Death Eater being punished with a few days in confinement.

"Kurt Lonnagan," said Kurt Lonnagan. "Lord Cremshaw, actually. I was captured while..."

"Great," interrupted Harry. "Follow me." He closed the door and led Lonnagan back down towards the other prisoners. Stopping at the last locked cell, he repeated the procedure he had used before. In this case, however, both Ollivander and Fortescue knew his identity. Leading his growing group to the last cell, he led them inside.

"Stay away!" shouted the boy, frightened at the sight of so many men, not to mention the disembodied head of Harry. He shivered in fear against one of the women.

"Shh, Adrian," said the woman, kneeling down. "They won't 'urt yer. That's 'arry Potter. 'e came ter rescue us."

"Ha...Harry P... P... Potter?" asked the boy.

"Pleased to meet you," said Harry, ruining the moment. "Now, if you'll all gather together, I'll portkey you to safety."

"Gladly," replied Fortescue. "You'll never pay for another ice cream sundae as long as you live, Harry." He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Wonderful," said Harry. "I don't mean to be rude, but I need to send you all off so I can find the person I came to rescue." He pulled out the portkey from his pocket.

"You're not coming with us?" asked one of the women.

"No," said Harry. "I'll be along after I find Cathy." How he'd be able to follow them without his portkey was anyone's guess.

"Who's Cathy?" asked the second woman.

Harry paused, trying to explain as quickly as possible. "She's someone I said I'd protect. Now, everyone take hold." He handed the main unit of the portkey to Lonnagan and stretched the string out for the others. "Help the boy," ordered Harry when he saw the child's confused face. Their portkeys were chosen by his wife because of their versatility. They were small enough to fit easily into a pocket; they could be adjusted for larger groups; they would serve as a projectile in a pinch and they were cheap entertainment. In short, they were yo-yos.

"Everyone ready?" asked Harry.

"I can stay and help you," offered Lonnagan. He was a muggle, but he had courage, misguided as it might be.

"I only have the one cloak," replied Harry. "Thanks, anyway. Now, on three." He pulled his wand. "One. Two. Three." He tapped the yo-yo and stepped quickly back as the six people vanished in the blink of an eye.

* * *

Harry didn't understand why, but now that this group was safely gone from this place, taking with them the primary means of his own escape, he felt a great sense of confidence that he'd succeed in his original purpose. Pulling the cloak back over himself, he stepped back into the hall. "Oh, yeah," he muttered as he saw the two men lying on the floor in heaps. Using the Levicorpus, he levitated the two men into the cell meant for Cathy. He then returned for the third guard around the corner. When all three were inside, he transfigured the door into a sheet of steel bonded to the walls so that their shouts wouldn't alert the others too soon. Closing and locking the other doors, he was preparing to head out when he considered that the three men might need some air holes. In the past, he might not have worried too much, but for all he knew, these men would be playing canasta later that night or reading their children bedtime stories. With a flick of his wand, a dozen two inch diameter holes appeared in the door. With his conscience appeased, he headed off to find Cathy.

Using a moment of near fox-like brilliance, Harry doubled back to the living quarters. Any discovery of his presence would undoubtably center around the active areas of Ninebanks. By hiding in the living quarters, he would be much less likely to be discovered. Pulling out his map, he traced the most direct route. He knew that it was only a matter of time, so he wanted to cut that time down to a minimum. From here, he would head due north past three intersecting corridors until he hit a 'T' intersection. Turn left and go on until he passed the north side of the dining room. North, again, before taking the second left. The interrogation room was along that wall. Folding up the map, he pulled his wand. The only reason to stop this time was to fight.

He encountered traffic only three times before reaching the first turn. Twice, it was a single Death Eater. He pressed himself flat against a door and let them pass. The third time was a bit more problematic. A woman with two young children walked towards him taking up nearly the entire hallway. Holding his breath, he flinched as one of the children bumped against him.

"What was that?" asked the young girl. Looking almost directly at him.

"Nothing, dear," said the woman, hustling her along. "You probably just bumped into the doorknob."

"But it felt soft," explained the child. Her mother, used to the incessant babbling of youth, didn't reply but instead shooed her on down the hall. Mentally wiping his brow, Harry proceeded.

Making his next turn at the dining hall, Harry considered taking a quick break, but could hear some sort of commotion brewing inside. The hated voice of Snape was shouting, "Find them. They're probably heading to the main entrance, but you four..." there was a pause and the designated men were identified, "head on back to reinforce the east exit."

Harry knew that the guards had been found, but that it was assumed the prisoners had managed their own escape and were still in the building. He started up the north hallway when he saw half a dozen men coming his way. Slipping into the dining room, he stood just to the side of the door and waited. After twenty seconds, none had entered so he returned to his original place. The hall was now empty. Rushing quickly, now, he nearly made it to the turn when two men came around the corner. Retreating, Harry saw that another man had come up behind him. With no place to run, Harry Stupified the single man and quickly turned to stun the other two. One fell but the other got off a shot. It glanced off of Harry's shoulder painfully, but he managed to finish the job on the next attempt. Leaping over the bodies, Harry ran around the corner, peering into the doorways as he ran. On the third try, he found Cathy.

Cathy lay tied to an old, rough table. Blood from her ears had pooled on the top. She was unconscious. Checking first for any broken bones, Harry cut her bonds.

"This way!" shouted someone from outside. Harry transfigured the door and the entire wall into a single thick sheet of steel. Casting an Impervious Charm on the works to delay those on the other side from quickly removing it, Harry reached into his pocket to retrieve the map; he needed to see what was behind the back wall. Placing his hand on the map, he noticed something else; a small, hard, roundish object. With a new hope, Harry pulled out the yo-yo. Had he grabbed two by mistake? The blasts on the other side rang in his ears. No time for questions. Placing the yo-yo in Cathy's hand and clasping it with his own, he activated the portkey.

Author's note: Vacation's over now so don't expect such quick updates. I didn't want you to have to worry about Harry or Cathy, though.

Dad


	120. Chapter 120

Chapter 120 - The Empire Strikes Out

November 27th, 1997

"How many are we talking about?" "I think it was on a Friday." "Does it hurt when I do this?" "Just until we can sort everything out." "Only a few days." "I want to go home." "What? He's a muggle?" "Here's Rufus, now." "I don't know." "When was that?" "Not too bad, all things considered."

The calm that was the hospital wing when Harry had left, just a few minutes earlier, had transformed into a beehive of activity. Everyone was so busy asking and answering questions that the impetus behind their arrival was momentarily forgotten. That was about to change.

Wham! Cathy had dropped onto the porkey target that Harry had placed, by thoughtful consideration or sheer blind luck, onto the center of a hospital bed. "Over here," he called. "She needs medical treatment." Although Harry knew that, at the least, the two women and the boy he had rescued also needed treatment, they weren't bleeding out of their ears.

"Harry!" shouted Minerva, rushing over to give him a hug as Poppy slipped in behind her to check on Cathy. Minerva was crying in joy at his return, sadness and outrage at the condition of some of those who had been saved and frustration that he'd gone and done something so dangerous in the first place. Not having had time to resolve all of those emotions, she went with her gut and merely held him in relief that he was safe.

"I never thought of you as a hugger," said Harry, trying to break the spell. He finally had to resort to finishing the encounter by hugging her briefly back.

"You'd be surprised," said Rufus, joining them. Minerva finally released Harry and stepped back. They all watched as Poppy examined Cathy. After a few frenetic scans, she looked up and smiled.

"She'll be alright," proclaimed the nurse. "Now, please step back so I can work." They all complied, but remained in their group.

"You got here fast," commented Harry. He looked around. Jack and Kingsley were also there, along with Remus and Tonks.

"It was my turn to host," explained Minerva. "We were just finishing a late supper when Poppy sent word. Rufus flooed Jack and Kingsley and we all portkeyed from my office."

"I've also alerted St. Mungo's to be ready," said Rufus. "Frank Sojourn; he's the head of the place, said he'd come over himself after he set things in motion." He then looked Harry over. "Are you alright, Harry?" He didn't have any noticeable pain or difficulties, but his robes were singed on his right shoulder.

"Yes," said Harry. "I was petrified for a bit at the start, but never took another hit." He glanced around at the released prisoners. "Well," he amended, "I had one of them connect with a glancing blow, but it wasn't much. As to St. Mungo's, I'd like to keep everyone here at Hogwarts for a while, if possible. It'd be safer for them and it would also probably be a good idea to question everyone while they're all still together."

"I agree," said Rufus, shrugging, "as long as it doesn't interfere with their treatment." He gestured towards the girls and young boy. "As far as questioning goes, we're doing a pretty good job of that right now." He indicated Jack talking with Ollivander and Fortescue; Tonks and Remus working with the girls and still very traumatized young boy, and Kingsley chatting with Lonnagan. Although not obvious to the other observers, it was quite evident to Harry's heightened sensitivities that the young boy, and to a lesser extent, the girls, were uncomfortable with having Remus so near. Remus, by this time, had reached the same conclusion and, using the arrival of Harry and Cathy as an excuse, excused himself.

"Welcome back, Harry," said Remus, grasping Harry briefly by the shoulder. At Harry's flinch, he backed quickly off before smiling, grimly. "I gather you decided _not _to take our advice."

"It was good advice," replied Harry, "but I couldn't live with it." Without missing a beat, he then said, "Stomper."

"You require the services of a house elf, Mr. Potter?" asked Monty. He was standing to Harry's right.

"Yes," replied Harry. "Please have someone bring Luna Lovegood and Martha, ah... Martha..." He couldn't remember her last name.

"Martha Murphy," finished Rufus. "She works in the Fortress of Solitude."

"Thank you, Minister," replied Monty. He remained silent, but didn't need to resort to a blank stare, at least.

"Good idea," said Remus. "I think that they won't be too comfortable around men for awhile."

As if inclined to disprove his point, or at the least, to demonstrate that there were exceptions, one of the girls tapped the other on her shoulder and the two of them, with the boy skittishly following behind, came over and gave Harry very sincere hugs. The boy, however, still kept his distance.

"Thank yew fer ge'in' us aaaht ov what 'orrible place," said the first girl. She was the one that Harry had awoken when he first entered the cell. She had red hair, brown eyes and a fair complexion. Her age could reasonably be guessed at around eighteen.

"You're welcome," said Harry, hesitatingly taking a guess at what she had said.

"That goes for me, too," added the second girl. "I don't know how to begin to thank you; Mr. Potter, is it?" She seemed unsure of his name.

"Harry," said Harry. "And don't mention it." Backing up to address them all, he said, "It's obvious that you've all been through a terrible ordeal. I'm going to ask that those doing the interviews keep that in mind and keep the questions to a minimum while your rooms are prepared. I've also sent for a couple of women who are particularly, ah, well I guess 'experienced' is the best word I can think of; they'll be able to help you during these first few hours, in any event. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other, ask and answer questions and decide the next move tomorrow. For now, I'm just glad that you're all safe."

"That won't suffice, Mr. Potter," said Ollivander. "Not by a long shot." He and Fortescue had risen, as had Lonnagan, when the other group had begun thanking Harry. "Both Florean and I have been held captive for over a year. If you think you can postpone our most heartfelt thanks with such a feeble attempt; well, prepare to be disappointed." He ambled over a few more feet and shook Harry's hand.

"You're very welcome, Mr. Ollivander," said Harry. "My wife will certainly be happy you're back. Her wand was taken last summer when she was captured and she's not very pleased with the replacement." He silently returned Fortescue's handshake, as well.

"We'll have to see what we can do about that, Mr. Potter," replied Ollivander; pleased that he might be able to show his appreciation so quickly.

"Wands," exclaimed the second girl. "If I never see another one, it'll be too soon. The things those men did with them." She shuddered and Adrian slunk even further behind her robes.

"You don't want a new one?" asked Harry, perplexed. "Hermione made replacing her's a priority. She said she felt naked without it."

"I'm no witch," declared the girl. "I'm a dental hygienist ."

"I'm da only magical one," said the first girl. "My name's Sophia. Cindy an' Adrian are bof muggles."

"Oh," said Harry. "I didn't know."

"From what I've been told," said the young man who had been alone in his cell, "I'm one of those muggle people, too." He held out his hand to Harry, as had the other men. Harry shook it.

"I'm unsure if this is appropriate," said Lonnagan, "or even necessary, but I've gathered that these lovely girls and the boy have had a rather rough time of it. I'm not sure how things are handled in the magical world, but I wouldn't want their care or treatment to be delayed while seeking the means to pay for it. I happen to have an embarrassing excess of funds. If any would be needed to help them out; or any of the others, just ask."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. ..." began Harry, hesitantly.

"Sorry," said the young man, assuming correctly that Harry had forgotten their earlier introduction in all the ensuing excitement. "My name's Kurt Lonnagan. Lord Cremshaw, officially." He once again offered his hand.

"Harry Potter," said Harry. "Lord Cremshaw, you say. I've only met one other 'Lord'. You seem much nicer." The witches and wizards within earshot either laughed or rolled their eyes.

Pop. Luna appeared next to Harry; escorted by an elf. She looked around and almost immediately locked onto the young boy.

"He needs help," she said, not even asking for any details. Without another word, she took his hand and led him to a quiet corner. He didn't seem afraid of her at all.

"How does she _do_ that?" asked Remus. Before he could get an answer, another pop accompanied another elf bringing Martha.

She looked around at the crowded room and asked, "What's going on?"

"Hello, Martha," said Harry. "You remember that trip that everyone told me not to take?"

"Glad you made it back," said Martha, putting her hands on her hips in exasperation.

"What did you expect?" asked Rufus, smiling.

"This," replied Martha, indicating the state of the hospital wing. "What can I do to help?"

"Right here," said Harry, gesturing to the girls. "These women, along with the boy sitting with Luna, were... well, they were at Ninebanks. They were... like you." He hoped that was enough of a hint.

"Gotcha," said Martha, gathering her courage to try to help someone get through what she, herself, had yet to fully put behind her. Forcing a smile, led her group to a quiet corner near Luna and Adrian.

"Now that we have that sorted out," said Rufus, eager to get in some questioning of his own, "tell me about your trip. What sort of defenses did they have?"

"Well," began Harry, "they have the goblin anti-apparition ward out to about three or four hundred yards. Not too far inside of that, I set off a petrification trap of some sort. It seems that it's activated when ..."

"Harry?" asked Poppy, before he got too involved. Harry looked mutely in her direction. "I'll need some tears, if you can manage a few. Cathy's ears..." She didn't get technical since she'd had experience working with Harry.

Harry picked up a small utility dish from a nearby shelf. He was getting better at crying on command but still needed a focal point to get started. Sitting on the edge of a bed, he watched as Martha and Luna, having apparently decided to join their groups, concentrated on the boy as the two rescued girls, one on each side, put their arms around him. He still looked too afraid or traumatized to speak. Harry thought of the kindness and courage both of the girls had exhibited when he found them; even in sleep, protecting young Adrian. Where would he be without them. Indeed, where would they be without him to protect and comfort. The dish began to fill.

"Thanks," said Poppy, as she retrieved the special tears. She took out her eyedropper and went to tend to Cathy.

"You should get another Order of Merlin for this," said Rufus, quietly. If this didn't qualify, what did?

Harry didn't respond at first. Then, pointing at the girls sitting on either side of Adrian, he said, "Give it to them. They deserve it more." They all sat in silent contemplation until...

"Where is he?" shouted a vocal and practiced soprano. As everyone turned to watch, Ginny ran through the door with Ron floating swiftly behind.

"Harry!" shouted Ginny, angrily rushing into his arms. He received his second hug of the night. Ginny, however, almost immediately stepped back and punched him in the shoulder. "Idiot! What were you thinking?"

"How did you find out?" asked Harry.

"I was talking with Luna when she was summoned to the hospital wing," explained Ginny, catching her breath. "When I went to ask Ron what was up, he said you'd probably gone to attack Lord Voldemort."

"Keep your voice down," said Harry, trying to quiet her. "This is a hospital, after all. Besides, I didn't even see Voldemort; just his men."

Ginny just about let him have another broadside, but she had noticed the number of unknown people in the room. Taking a better inventory, she detected the three unharmed men, the plump woman lying on the bed being tended to by Madame Pomfrey, and the young strangers with Luna and Martha.

"Sorry," said Ginny, using her soft voice. "A rescue mission, then?" She was still mad at the risk he had taken, but it seemed that he'd returned safely, and with several people.

"Yes," answered Harry. "I'd just as soon put off further discussion until later. I think I'd better check in with Hermione before she has kittens." This was probably quite true.

"We'll hold off on your story until tomorrow," agreed Rufus. "It doesn't look like the men are in too bad of shape. We'll finish getting their statements tonight."

"You're planning on having them stay here for awhile, right?" asked Ron.

"Of course," said McGonagall. "However, Madame Pomfrey will have final say on if anyone needs to go to St. Mungo's. In the meantime, I'll have some quarters prepared for our new guests."

"They are already being prepared, Headmistress," offered Monty.

"Who are you?" asked McGonagall and Ron, simultaneously.

"My name is Monty," replied Monty. "I've taken over the position of Head Elf."

"I see," replied McGonagall. "We'll talk later, if you don't mind."

"No problem at all, Headmistress," replied Monty.

"Is Honey still watching the children?" asked Harry.

"She's trying," replied Ron. Rolling his eyes, he added, "They'd give Fred and George a run for their money."

"You noticed that, did you?" asked Harry. Turning to the group in general, he asked, "Should we let them see her tonight?"

"I'm sure they'd want to," replied Minerva, "but tomorrow would be better. Ron; please inform them that their mother is safe, resting and that they can see her in the morning. I'm sure they'll be relieved."

"Then stun them and tuck them into bed," finished Harry. Seeing the shocked looks around him, he said, "They're only four or five. They won't understand why they have to wait."

"I'll join Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall. "I have a _way_ with children."

While McGonagall was off testing her _way with children_, Voldemort was observing an impromptu discussion group.

"Think carefully," commanded Snape. "The five or so minutes before the petrification spell was activated, did you see or hear_ anything _out of the ordinary?"

"Nothing, sir," replied the shaken men in unplanned synchronization. Their nerves were still frayed after receiving the summons to this room. As the official guards at the time, they fully expected to receive the blame for the intrusion, as well as the punishment. Retaliation didn't seem to be the primary focus of this meeting, however.

"After the spell," continued the more confident of the pair, "we paid particular attention until the search team arrived."

"And how long was that?" continued Snape.

"Two minutes at most," replied the same guard.

"Quick response," remarked Voldemort to Snape. Snape nodded. It wasn't easy getting a compliment out of the Dark Lord.

"Okay," continued Snape, indicating the two men who had been so quick to search for the cause of the 'near human intelligence' that had set off the proximity alarm. "What did you find?"

"A few squirrels," replied the shorter, more senior member of the duo, a man by the name of Otley Klinghoffer. "Also, an owl that appeared to have been in flight. We didn't finish searching the south side before being summoned here," he added, just to be thorough.

"That's being done now," said Snape to Voldemort, "although the talisman clearly indicated the threat was to the west." Voldemort nodded, thinking.

"You have something to add, Klinghoffer?" asked Voldemort, shortly. "I sense that you've held something back." That wasn't advisable.

"It's nothing, Lord," replied Klinhoffer, turning just a bit paler than before. "While I appreciate the suggestion, Jim and I didn't rush to the door. It must have been at least five minutes before we stepped outside."

Voldemort returned his attention to the first pair of guards; silently asking for their comments.

"I stand by my report, Master," reiterated the spokesman for the group, although his counterpart nodded in agreement. "I'd barely had time for one visual scan of the approach when they came through the door."

"Snape," said Voldemort, "get memories from all four of them. None are lying, but two are obviously wrong."

"Yes, Master," said Snape, making a note.

"Moving on," continued Voldemort, taking over for a moment, "the three of you were; well, _locked_ seems a little inadequate, doesn't it?" The three cell block guards were all but sealed inside a small one-man cell intended for Cathy Diben. "Tell me what you know."

"Very little, Lord," said the first guard. "I saw a flash of red coming from the left. The next thing I knew, I was being revived in the cell."

"I saw the spell cast at Rogers," added the second man. "It originated right in front of me. I barely turned before..." His lights had also been turned out.

"How helpful," commented Voldemort. Turning to the last man, he noticed he was especially nervous. "Well?"

"I saw or heard nothing until I was standing in the cell with these two, Master," sputtered out the third guard. "I was petrified and couldn't speak or move."

"Do you remember being unconscious?" asked Snape. Virtually everyone, including his boss, turned to give him a strange look. Well, it _was_ a stupid question.

"I... I don't remember reviving," replied the guard, "if that's what you meant. I was just standing in front of Lonnagan... and then I was inside the cell with the others." He couldn't explain it any clearer than that.

"I see," replied Voldemort. He didn't like to admit that his old ways had an inherent flaw, but not immediately killing everyone involved in this major breach of security was yielding some productive clues.

Turning to the last three active participants, he asked, "It seems that an invisibility cloak was involved. Did any of you actually see anything besides the spells that brought you down?" He didn't need any more stories of the 'I saw a flash of light' variety.

"I think I got a piece of him, Master," boasted Trump. "I managed a shot before I was stunned. I'm almost sure I heard a grunt or groan or ...something." Odd as it may sound, and acknowledging that it was probably only a glancing blow, he was proud that of all those involved in the firefight, he was the only one who may have managed to connect.

"One hit," recapped Voldemort, coldly. "A glancing blow. Still, it was the highlight of the encounter. I suppose I'd better take what I can get." He shook his head in disgust; not so much at Trump's pathetic attempt at a boast, but the fact that if he couldn't figure out what had really happened, it could become a nightly event. Well, he could take a few steps, at least.

"Leave me," ordered Voldemort. "I might have further questions later, or perhaps need a memory, besides those already ordered. You may all return to your posts." 'For all the good it'll do,' he added in his mind.

Shocked into silence by the total lack of punishment, not to mention their survival, the group rushed to comply with their orders.

"Not you, Snape," said Voldemort to his second. When Snape returned to his side, he said, "Contact Gringott's. I think it's most likely that portkeys were involved; one way or another."

"That's hard to believe, Master," replied Snape, before he could control his tongue. "The assurances we've received were written into the contracts." They had made arrangements with the Gringott's goblins, as had Harry, if they'd known, for both portkeys and portkey wards. As it turned out, the Dark Lord had secured the ward one step up from Harry's. The portkeys used to enter the location currently being used for Voldemort's headquarters needed to have an encryption charm placed on it. That encryption was changed every other day, as a matter of routine, and also immediately after any operation that left men behind. A captured portkey would be of no use to Potter or the Ministry. At least that was the promise.

"Hard to believe," agreed Voldemort, "but the only conclusion that presents itself. I think you'll find that the differences in the perception of time surrounding the initial detection of our intruder will explain how he managed to get in without being noticed. Check for memory modifications. Use whatever means are necessary to reveal what really happened. The same is true for the guard who was moved in the blink of an eye."

"That makes sense, Lord," agreed Snape. He made a personal note to himself not to underestimate his master's mental powers.

"Invisibility cloak or not," continued Voldemort, "and memory charms aside, I also want to know how anyone could have detected this building in the first place. It's both unplottable and is protected by the Fidelius Charm. Do we have any trusted men who haven't been officially informed of its location?"

"A few, since the last update, Lord," said Snape. "I could summon one from your new villa in Tuscany."

"Do so," replied Voldemort. "It might be that the last castings were flawed; allowing this opportunity."

"Yes, Master," replied Snape. He had cast both spells, himself, and felt confident in their success.

"I also wish to write a letter to the Count," continued Voldemort. "Has Richards managed to pull himself together?" Richards had been inconsolable since the rescue, or from his point of view, abduction, of his 'special little friend', Adrian.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't expect much but blubbering for the next day or so," he said, sarcastically.

"Just checking," said Voldemort, having already suspected as much. "Who else can write in French?"

"There's always Tweedle D...," replied Snape, thinking out loud, "I mean, the Vicieux-Salauds brothers."

"As if I don't have enough problems," muttered Voldemort, closing his eyes. "Very well. Send in Camel." It was an inside joke of a pronunciation. Camille always spoke boisterously and had a mug of wine in his hand at meals, but it was eventually observed that he seldom actually took a sip. The assumption was that he liked to play the hearty warrior but knew his limitations when it came to holding his liquor.

Snape left. Voldemort pondered his letter. He also pondered what it was that Cathy Diben knew that made her valuable enough for such a daring raid. What he didn't ponder was the fact that for the first time in his life, he was going to be asking for the help and advice of someone he not only considered a peer, but also an actual friend.

In the Lair of the Tigress

"Move your arms out from your sides. Turn around. Slower. Hmm. Any major injuries that I can't see?" Hermione wasn't asking for Harry's report until she gave him a once over.

"No," said Harry, coming over to give her a quick kiss. "I was petrified for a second and took a hit on my shoulder, but other than that, they didn't touch me."

"Did you find Cathy?" she asked, a little more compassionately in case he had been too late.

"It took awhile," said Harry. "She's in the hospital wing. Alive, but that's all I know for sure." He lowered his head in concern.

"Well, then," said Hermione, relieved that everything seemed to have turned out about as well as possible, "tell me all about it." She sat back and sipped on her tea. Reggie slithered from his corner and wrapped himself around the bedpost at the foot of the bed to listen as well.

"Well," began Harry, taking a seat, "I suppose everything went about as well as I could have expected." He then proceeded to give a fairly accurate, if somewhat abridged version of the adventure from popping into the neighborhood until the departure of the bulk of the prisoners. Hermione; tired from a long day and the recent worry until Harry's return, had been content to just listen until this point.

"Hold on," she interrupted. "You gave those other prisoners your portkey?"

"Well I couldn't exactly take them with me on the rest of the mission, could I?" asked Harry. "Besides, I had a spare."

"_You _thought to take a spare portkey?" asked Hermione, impressed. Such foresight wasn't exactly a hallmark of her husband's planning abilities. He'd usually just push the angels to one side and rush right in.

"Yes," said Harry. "I mean no. I don't know."

"Is this multiple choice?" asked Reggie. "Do I win a prize if I guess?"

"No," said Harry, irritated.

"You _didn't_ take a spare?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, I did," replied Harry. "I just forgot that I'd taken it."

"Forgot," repeated Hermione.

"I must have," replied Harry. "It was in my pocket when we were trapped in that room with Death Eaters blasting their way in."

"Go back a bit," said Hermione. "How did you get yourself trapped in a room?"

Harry then resumed his story from the point of leaving the detention center. Hermione resumed her silence, with the one exception of asking if Madame Pomfrey had taken a look at his shoulder. She hadn't.

"I was about to blast through the back wall when I noticed the second portkey in my pocket. Cathy and I used it to pop back to the hospital wing."

"Excellent," said Hermione, giving her appraisal of the entire mission. "So. How is everyone doing?"

"Pretty well," said Harry, with moderate reservations. "Ollivander and Fortesque are okay. Voldemort seemed to have wanted them to do work or research for him. They had it pretty easy, I think. The muggle man, Lonnagan, was also unharmed. He's a lord or something and offered to help the others out financially, if necessary. I haven't talked to him about why he was there, yet. I am concerned about the other three, though. They weren't as badly beaten as Martha and those sisters were, but the boy, especially, seems to still be terrified, even now. The girls are calmer and were doing most of the talking."

"Did they have him between them?" asked Hermione.

"Let's see," said Harry, thinking. "Yes. He was in the middle with one of them on either side. That's how I found them, too. They were lying on the floor and he was between them. They both had their arms around him." He spent more time thinking of this than he did initially.

"They were protecting him," said Hermione. "They still are."

"Good for them," said Harry, meaning it very sincerely. "We'll start checking for their families in the morning."

"Make sure you set up security for them," added Hermione. "Voldemort could try to get them back."

"I will," said Harry. "I'll make arrangements with Monty."

"The house elves will _not_ be guarding the former prisoners, Mr. Potter," said Monty, stepping into view.

"What?" asked Harry. "Why not?"

"It is not their purpose," replied Monty. "We've discussed this before, Mr. Potter. You may hire regular security services from whoever you wish, but the Hogwarts Free Elves and those volunteers who are still enslaved may only be used where directly involved in the fight against Lord Voldemort. Your wife was protected due to her involvement and importance. Those who you've just rescued, although important to their families, are not the concern of house elves."

"I need to know what this means," said Harry. "What about the widows? Will you continue to protect them?"

"Those families are under the protection of Hogwarts, and the Hogwarts elves, of all stripes, will maintain their security while they are within the walls of the castle. As to the shopping trips, I am not sure. Since this last attack, the Others have been discussing the wisdom of allowing them."

"We're going to have to discuss that, as well," agreed Hermione. "I do have a question, however."

"I'm all ears, Mrs. Potter," said Monty, being unintentionally funny.

"If I was allowed protection due to my importance to Harry," she asked, "how was it you allowed him to go running off to Ninebanks, alone?"

"It is not in my power to stop him, Mrs. Potter," replied Monty. "It was hoped that the removal of support would cause him to see reason."

"You don't know him very well, do you?" asked Hermione.

"I'm a quick learner," replied Monty.

"Most people are," quipped Reggie, drawing an eye-roll from Harry at all this abuse.

"I'm not sure I like these Others," said Hermione. "Harry's too impulsive. He needs someone looking out for him."

"I'm not a child, Hermione," snapped back Harry. "I can look after myself."

"The Others agree," replied Monty, "with you, Mrs. Potter. A certain amount of leeway is acceptable when necessary. Otherwise, Mr. Potter's pocket might have been empty."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in confusion, but when they started to ask for clarification, Monty had already disappeared.

Back in the Infirmary

"Now look, Frank," said Rufus, getting a little steamed, "you just said you weren't going to have anything set up until tomorrow."

"That's besides the point," replied Frank Sojourn, the head of St. Mungo's. "We have a protocol in place for this sort of thing. I've already ordered their rooms prepared."

"That's the problem, Healer Sojourn," interrupted Martha. "They don't want _rooms_. They want _a room_."

"Not possible," replied Sojourn, flatly. "The girls might be allowed to share a double, but the boy shouldn't be in there with them." At this, Adrian squirmed around behind Cindy while Sophia closed up the gap.

"You're terrifyin' 'im," snapped Sophia, putting her arm around Adrian, but maintaining her fierce expression. "We've cared fer 'im since 'e was brought in. You can't just..."

"It's not right!" thundered Sojourn. "A young boy shouldn't be..."

"A young boy shouldn't be raped by a slimy, giggling git, either," retorted Cindy, taking up the attack, "but he was. Now you just go back to your _proper hospital _and we'll be along once we're _all_ ready."

"I totally agree," added Martha, taking a position next to the others.

"Now Miss," began Sojourn, trying to remain calm, "if you'd just take a moment to listen, I'm sure I could make you understand..."

"I understand, alright," replied Martha, getting her hackles up. "I understand very well. I spent a bloody month in the same sort of hell that they just came from. I know what it's like. There were three of us, too. All we had were each other. Giving and receiving comfort and support to each other was the only thing that kept us sane and alive. You can't break that sort of a bond overnight just because a few people might be offended." She was beginning to let her half-healed feelings come through, but knew that in the end, she'd be better for it.

Frank Sojourn wasn't a mindless bureaucrat. He truly wanted to do what was best for everyone, but had to answer to people, himself. Still, he seemed to be the only one on his side. Perhaps, in this case...

"Very well," he decided. "Just for tonight, to start. Tomorrow, everyone should floo to St. Mungo's for the start of your treatment. We'll decide everything one step at a time after that."

"Floo?" asked Cindy. "What do you mean?"

"Floo," repeated Sojourn, gesturing towards the fireplace. "You know..."

"She doesn't know, Healer Sojourn," said Luna, stepping forward for the first time. "Cindy and Adrian are both muggles. Didn't you know?"

"I don't think it was ever brought up," said Tonks, as surprised as the others. "I assumed they were witches and..."

"I'm not a witch," interrupted Cindy. "Neither is Adrian. We've gathered that magic is real, of course, but we can't do any of it. If I could've turned those men into newts, I would have; believe me."

"Well," said McGonagall, who had returned from her meeting with the Diben boys, "this presents us with a problem. Wait a moment." She looked confused.

"What is it, Minerva?" asked Rufus.

"I was going to say," said McGonagall, "that they'd need to have some magical blood if they're going to be staying in the castle, but it's apparent that they don't. Why did we have to do that for the Dursleys, then?"

"Who said you had to in the first place?" asked Tonks.

"Albus," replied Minerva. "It seemed true enough. All they could see of Hogwarts Castle was the illusory rubble."

"Did anyone ever try to bring them inside?" asked Martha.

"Well, no," admitted Minerva. "We just took Albus' word for it."

"Good to see he isn't infallible after all," quipped Rufus. "It would seem that, once inside, the charm is no longer effective. Odd that no one's ever tried such a simple test."

"We're not as brilliant as you, I guess," retorted Minerva, somewhat in jest. "It's one less thing to worry about, though."

"Indeed," added Healer Sojourn. "If those two aren't magical, it might not be best for them to come to St. Mungo's at all."

"You'd turn them away just because they're muggles?" asked Remus, shocked.

"We won't turn anyone away," clarified Sojourn, getting the gist of how his comment could have been interpreted. "It's just that we aren't trained extensively in the ways of the muggle mind. Perhaps muggle healers would be the best choice."

"Funny thing is," began Martha, "when _I_ was in therapy, my ability to use magic never even came up. I can't believe that muggles think so very much differently than magical folk that they wouldn't benefit the same as I did. Of course, they _would _be better off somewhere that they were welcome."

"Don't paint me as the villain," replied Sojourn. "However, the more I think about it, the more my original suggestion to let muggle healers help the muggles makes sense. Their families, for instance, wouldn't be able to be part of their recovery if they had to stay at St. Mungo's, now would they? Once, they're released, they'd have difficulty returning for counseling. All sorts of logistical problems." He had a valid point.

"If _we're_ allowed to speak," said Cindy, having been duly elected to the post of spokeswoman for the group, "whether we're witches or muggles, right now we'd just like to go someplace where we can talk; alone. And maybe get some uninterrupted sleep."

"Some clothes 'ould be nice, as well," added Sophia. She slipped her fingers up the lapel of her conjured robes and added, "Not what deese aren't nice, ov caaahrse."

"I totally agree," agreed Poppy. "This discussion can wait until tomorrow. These are currently _my_ patients, Frank, and I'm ordering them to bed."

"A wise decision," confirmed McGonagall. "Oh, what was his name? Elf!"

"I hear you magically, Headmistress," said Monty, ever so slightly irritated. "There's no need to shout. The name's Monty, by the way."

"Thank you, Monty," replied McGonagall, coldly. "Please have these three taken to their rooms. They will determine their own sleeping arrangements."

"Yes, Headmistress," replied Monty. Three elves appeared within a few seconds.

"They're going to take you to a flat," explained Martha. "There isn't a door, so don't freak out."

"Begging your pardon, Mistress," interrupted Monty, "but I assumed that under the circumstances, it was prudent to assign this trio one of the flats in the new wing. Real windows and doors, you see."

"An excellent choice," affirmed McGonagall.

"I'll check with the girls in my dorm about some spare clothes," added Ginny. She looked at Adrian who was nearly her height. "You're about five feet, then?" she asked. He was nearly her height, but not quite.

Adrian didn't speak. He hadn't said much since arriving and wasn't about to start now.

"I'd say that's close enough," replied Sophia. She looked down at the boy who hesitantly nodded.

"Fine, then," said Ginny. "I'll see what I can come up with and see you in the morning." She waited until the three of them left with their elf attendants before heading off, herself.

"And what's to be done with us, Minister?" asked Fortescue. "Have we exchanged one cell for another?"

"Hardly, Florean," replied Rufus. "You're both of age, to put it mildly. You can leave whenever you like. However, I'd like to point out that your former master would be very likely to hunt you down, again, should you leave the protection of this castle."

"Not to mention that Mr. Potter took no small risk in rescuing you in the first place," added McGonagall. "At the least, you should stay long enough to answer a few questions for him."

"Oh, we will," assured Ollivander. "Of course, we have a few questions of our own; being out of touch for such a long time. We were never given so much as a Daily Prophet, you see. My first and foremost question is what has happened to Mr. Potter? When I was last current on the events of the world, he was just a school boy. A few rumors were circulating about this or that adventure or encounter, but nothing concrete. Tonight, he comes alone to the Dark Lord's own headquarters and makes off with..." He took a moment to do the math. "Seven prisoners. When he arrives here, everyone from the Headmistress of Hogwarts to the Minister of Magic seems to report _to him_. Even our guards, when they didn't think we were listening, would talk in whispers about their fears of being captured by Harry Potter."

"To put it in a nutshell, Garrick," said Rufus, "Harry's come of age. He's taken the fight to Voldemort and makes no excuses for how he does it. And he's powerful; perhaps more so than Dumbledore. At the least, he's more powerful than Dumbledore allowed himself to be. If some of the rumors are true, it isn't only Voldemort's _guards_ who are worried."

"I see," said Florean, interjecting his own analysis. "It seems that there is much to learn." Turning to his long time cell mate, he suggested, "Perhaps we should just find a comfortable chair in the school's library and read the back issues of the Prophet."

"That's as good a place to start as any," agreed Minerva. "I'll show you to your rooms. I assume you both remember the location of the library."

"I wish you the best of luck," said Lonnagan, watching them leave. "As for myself, I'd just like to get home and take a hot bath."

"All in good time Mr..." began Rufus, wondering if he'd ever been introduced to the young man.

"Lonnagan," said Lonnagan. "Kurt Lonnagan." He offered his hand.

Rufus returned the handshake and asked, "You said you were a muggle, didn't you?"

"Apparently," replied Lonnagan. "I hope it isn't anything bad." He looked slightly worried.

"It depends on who you ask," replied Luna.

"I suppose it does," agreed Kurt, giving her a smile resplendent with pearly teeth. Luna giggled.

"How long have you been held prisoner, Mr. Lonnagan?" asked Remus.

"Let's see," said Kurt. He counted on his fingers before coming up with, "Seven days if you count Friday and today."

"He was captured last Friday," remarked Kingsley, consulting his notes.

"Yes, I was," replied Lonnagan, indignantly. "I was watching the Weakest Link hosted by that enchantress, Anne Robinson, when these black robed blokes burst through the balcony doors and snatched me away. They wouldn't even let me watch the final round." He seemed more upset about missing his show than his own kidnaping.

"I see," said Remus. "Did they question you that night?"

"A bit," replied Lonnagan. "They seemed most interested in what I normally have for lunch."

"Lunch?" asked Rufus, confused. "What difference did it make what you had for lunch?"

"Not _had_," replied Lonnagan, correcting the Minister, "_have,_ as in 'will have'. They wanted to know what I had planned to have for lunch the next day."

"What on Earth for?" asked Ron.

"No idea," replied Lonnagan. "They certainly didn't bring it to me. About all I ever ate in that horrid little cell was boiled cabbage and sausages."

"Ewwww," said everyone within earshot.

"Not at the same time," amended Lonnagan. "I mean, really."

"So that's all they asked?" asked Rufus. "What you wanted for lunch when they weren't going to bring it, anyway?"

"It seems so," replied Lonnagan. "They were also very mean to me twice a day."

"Mean to you," repeated Jack, nodding his head in his usual 'This bloke's nutty as a fruitcake' way.

"Very," agreed Kurt. "They'd send a couple of these big thugs in the cell and pull my hair."

"Right," agreed Rufus in his 'Jack's right' voice.

"Where do you usually eat lunch?" asked Luna, able to cut through the smoke better than the others for reasons we won't go into here.

"At Windsor," replied Kurt, nonchalantly. "Bess says talking to me during lunch helps her digestion."

"Who's Bess?" asked McGonagall.

"The Queen," replied Kurt. "Good Queen Bess, I call her. Sweet old woman. Loves her strawberry strudel."

"Minister," said Luna, sharply. "You have to send someone to Windsor Castle. Someone's impersonating Mr. Lonnagan to get close to the Queen."

There was a moment of silence when all the pieces fit together as neatly as they had already done for Luna. Then Jack and Kingsley sprinted out the door followed quickly by Tonks and Rufus. Remus, deciding the Order should be notified, as well, touched his portkey ring to the master kiosk and inadvertently sent himself to Headquarters via the north pole. Ron floated out to inform Harry. That left just Poppy, Cathy, Luna and Kurt.

"Let me show you the way to you room," offered Luna.

"Of course," replied Kurt. "You know the way, then?"

"Not exactly," replied Luna, "but I'm sure it'll turn up."

"What a cracker of a plan," replied Kurt, smiling back. He extended the crook of his arm which she gladly took. Together, they went off in search of his elusive room.

Author's Note: Another example of my blaming my own errors on my characters. I sent muggles to Hogwarts infirmary without thinking that they'd need a blood transfusion to make it work. Solution: That idiot Dumbledore was wrong about them not being able to stay inside once they got inside. I hope they don't rebel at being my scapegoats.

Dad


	121. Chapter 121

Chapter 121 - The Return of the Queen

November 28th, 1997

"Sorry I'm late," said Harry, rushing into the hospital wing. He was still buttoning up his robes. "Rufus had us up half the night working out how to deal with..." He paused a second, before asking, "Luna?" Luna was sitting on a bench next to Poppy's office. Next to her, clearly making no effort to remain awake, sat Lord Cremshaw; napping. Well, 'sat' might be a bit too generous. Splayed out like a scarecrow on Prozac, he took up the two remaining positions while still finding it necessary to have his head encroach on Luna's shoulder.

"Good morning, Harry," said Luna. She shook the arm of the young man next to her until he opened one bleary eye. "Time to get up, Kurt."

"Is it?" asked Kurt. He glanced around for a second before checking his watch. Failing that, he checked his other wrist _for his watch_. "Oh, that's right," he mumbled. "Blighters took the bloody thing."

"It's just past six o'clock," said Luna.

"What?" asked Kurt. "Suppertime, already?" He pulled his limbs into more of a cohesive group.

"No, silly," said Luna. "It's six o'clock in the morning." She stood up and encouraged him to do likewise.

"Really?" asked Kurt. "I didn't know it came around in the morning, too." Luna laughed.

"What gets you up at this God-forsaken hour, Luna?" asked Harry. He could hear Poppy saying something in her office, but let it go, for now.

"Nothing much," said Luna. "We just need some of your blood." She turned quickly to catch the dozing Lord Cremshaw and pushed him back onto the bench.

"Take a number," quipped Harry. "We're starting up on the werewolves, again." As he said this, Poppy and her; well, let's call him her _guest_, came around the corner.

"Oh," said Professor Triffle, surprised at having students discover him. He continued to fumble with adjusting his robes while adding, "Poppy; I mean Madame Pomfrey and I were just discussing the, ah, potions that would be most helpful to, ah..." He trailed off, but motioned towards Cathy.

"That's unusual for pillow talk," commented Luna, non-judgementally. "I do hope you've been successful."

"Oh," replied Triffle, caught a bit off guard, "We did fine, I suppose. Got off to a late start..."

"Rolly!" snapped Poppy. "That's not what she was talking about." She set down the tray of potions she had been carrying. Turning more to Harry than Luna, she reported, "Cathy will be fine in a day or so. There was a little swelling in her right temporal lobe, but I think I was able to treat her before any of the damage became permanent. Rolly helped with some potions for her ongoing care so I think everything's under control."

"That's good," said Harry. "Honey didn't look too eager to keep watching those boys any longer than necessary."

"I'm not so sure Cathy will be up to that for a few days. However, I've already contacted Percy in the Minister's Office to see if there's anyone on record as godparents," explained Poppy. "Of course, I did that before you went on your rescue mission, but as I said, Cathy might need some help for a bit. Godparents would likely know the boys and would also have some authority to watch them while Cathy recovers."

"As long as they aren't Death Eaters, too," countered Harry. It was a very real possibility.

"Maybe some of the women we're protecting could chip in," suggested Luna. "Ellie Caro will also need a guardian now that her mother's... well, you know." Parry Caro was in a cell a mile beneath them and wouldn't be seeing daylight for quite some time.

"Remus and Minerva can handle both of those problems," said Harry. "They're in charge of the people in the Widow's wing."

"I'm sure it will all work out," said Poppy, finally having everything arranged. "Rolly. Stick around and keep Harry from injuring himself during the cure. It's been awhile and he might need to get used to the pain, again. Luna. You said something about needing some of Harry's blood?"

"Yes," replied Luna. "Last night, Kurt and I went outside to look around and I had to call for an elf to get back inside. If he had some of Harry's blood, like the Dursleys do, he could come and go much easier. I thought it'd be better to do it before Harry was knackered from doing the cure."

"Fair enough," nodded Poppy. "Roll up your sleeve, Harry." Harry grumbled a bit, but complied.

"Okay, Kurt," said Poppy, forgetting the rest of his name and deciding to just go with the one Luna had been using. "Stand over here and roll up your sleeve, too."

"Will it hurt?" asked the somewhat coddled nineteen-year-old lord.

"Only if you want it to," replied Poppy with her usual witticism. "You're fairly young and healthy, so I doubt it. Still, if there was anything wrong with your blood, this will cure it. In that case, you might feel some sort of a sensation, but it won't last."

"Let's get going," said Harry, holding out his arm. Luna put Kurt's arm in the proper position and within a few seconds, the procedure was finished.

"Thank you," said Kurt, fixing his clothes. Yawning, he turned to Luna and asked, "May we return to my room now? I'd like to get back into bed."

"I'm not quite that easy," replied Luna, turning abruptly around and heading swiftly towards the door. She managed a mischievous wink for Harry, though.

"Oh, dear," muttered Kurt, rushing after her. "I didn't... I mean, I'm so sorry."

"Why do women do that to men?" asked Harry, more or less rhetorically.

"Because we can," replied Poppy. "Elf."

* * *

"Nurse," replied Monty, a moment later.

"Please have someone bring Mr. Piper and Mr. Lawrence from men's dormitory three," ordered Poppy, checking her clipboard.

"Yes, Mistress," replied Monty. "They've already been awoken." He turned and stared at a blank spot on the floor. In a few seconds, Millie and Stomper appeared with the required werewolves.

"I'm so glad you're back in business, Mr. Potter," said a very relieved Paul Piper. "We've all been so worried."

"Yes, I know," replied Harry, cooly. "Well, Hermione's home, now, and I probably won't be paying any more visits to Voldemort for awhile, so we shouldn't miss any more appointments."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," said the confused, and slightly affronted werewolf. "Did I say something to offend you?"

"No," replied Harry, immediately feeling ashamed of his petulance, "not really. A lot's been going on, lately, and besides my wife finally coming home, not much of it's been good. It's not your fault, in any event. I'm just being a git. I'm sorry."

"With all you've been through the last few days," said Mr. Piper, "you have a right to be. Are you sure you're up to this so soon? I've seen what it takes, you know." As had everyone before him, save the original group with the first cure, he had had to witness the procedure. One thing that stood out above all else was the focus necessary. If Harry was distracted, he should probably put it off.

"I'll be fine," said Harry. "Once I start, everything else stops mattering so much." That, at least, was true.

"If we're ready, then," said Poppy, holding out her wand. "Rolly, pull your wand and stand between the two of them. Put your hilt on Mr. Potter and the tip on Mr. Piper. When I give the word, the spell is Pan Plasma Continum. Mr. Lawrence; no wand will be necessary for you, but stand behind Mr. Piper and keep him from flopping around too terribly." They all took their positions.

"Alright," continued Poppy. "On the count of... wait a moment." She put down her wand and straightened back up.

"Now what?" asked Harry. He had been getting into the mood and didn't like having his concentration disrupted.

"When's your next free hour, Harry?" asked Poppy.

"What?" asked Harry. "Ah, ten o'clock. Why?"

"When Luna and Kurt were here, I was reminded of one of the side effects of your blood," explained Poppy. "If Cindy, Sophia or Adrian contracted an STD, your blood would eliminate it before it could do any damage. I think a precautionary dose would be prudent."

"Maybe we should install a spigot," commented Harry, surlily. Nevertheless, he saw the wisdom in it and nodded.

"Okay," said Poppy. "Let's try again. Positions." Everyone resumed their assigned locations. "One. Two. Three."

As usual, Harry and Paul both hit the mats. Paul, being only in his early thirties, withstood the pressure better than most. Harry, however, had his memory jogged on just how painful this cure could be. His pain turned to anger and frustration and he allowed his instincts to take over to finish it as soon as possible. Feeling the power surging through his veins; literally, in this case, he embraced the reduction in suffering and coupled it with his desire to return to the side of his wife. In slightly less than a minute, he knew he had succeeded.

"Done," he said, using a more powerful voice than in the past.

"Are you sure?" asked Poppy. She couldn't check, of course, since her wand was in use.

"Finite," said Harry, waving his other hand over the wands. He broke free from the transfusion.

Piper, as had virtually everyone except Kamalia, fell to the floor, supported only by Henry Lawrence's faltering embrace. Harry, on the other hand, stood up and walked to the nearest bed, sitting down as if to merely catch his breath.

"He's cured," confirmed Poppy, checking her wand. She looked at Harry with suspicious eyes, but said nothing in front of her patient. Taking a bottle from the tray, she handed it to Piper and said, "Drink this down quickly. There's two more after that, so get to it."

"Ten o'clock, then?" said Harry, standing up.

"Harry," said Poppy, half in a whisper, "I... ah..." She was unsure of how to put this.

"Don't worry," said Harry. "I think I'm just getting better at it. We might be able to do more per day and get done in a reasonable amount of time." Indeed, he would like nothing better than to be done with curing werewolves.

"Perhaps," agreed Poppy, tentatively. "We'll talk later."

"Mr. Potter," gasped Piper, still leaning against Lawrence, the second bottle in his hand. "Thank... thank you." Saying even that exhausted him. The rushed cure was easier on Harry, but it seemed to put more pressure on the werewolves.

"You're very welcome," said Harry, smiling as he knelt down next to him. "Now get some rest and start planning the rest of your life." Standing up, he headed briskly back to his suite.

* * *

Just after breakfast, in a small briefing room at Windsor Castle.

"One does _not_ pull hairs from the head of Her Majesty," intoned Sir John, the unamused Chief of Staff.

"They don't have to come from her head," countered Tonks. "She _does_ have a hairbrush, doesn't she?"

"She does," replied Sir John. "What she does _not_ have is a desire to have an imposter replace her at a private function. Now before we continue to discuss any possible countermeasures, I'd like to verify exactly what threats may exist. You're telling me that Lord Cremshaw is really not Lord Cremshaw, but someone impersonating him; presumably for some nefarious purpose. Why, then, did he take no action on the three occasions when he has dined with the Queen since replacing the real Lord Cremshaw?"

"We don't know their plans," explained Rufus. "This was all discovered just last night. They probably expected to have as much time as they needed and didn't need to rush things. One possible outcome of his rescue is that insufficient time had been allowed to set up their operation and they'll just end the project."

"If that is the case, then there might not be a problem in the first place," concluded Sir John, sitting back in his chair.

"I hope that there isn't," replied Rufus. "Unfortunately, it's just as likely that they'll try to use their perceived one last chance to get close to the Queen to make a mad dash to achieve their original goal; whatever that might be, with one go. It wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that it would take us at least a day to determine why all of the released prisoners were captured in the first place. In fact, only a chance comment by Lord Cremshaw led us to discover his most likely purpose. It's this uncertainty that brings me to ask that the Queen be replaced by one of my aurors for just today. By tomorrow, we will have had time to sweep the castle for any traps or devices. Even those arriving today will be checked. I just don't want her to be in any danger if someone already here were involved or something unexpected were to happen today."

"Personally," said Sir John, "I see two courses of action that would achieve that goal without requiring an imposter. One: we arrest this fake Lord Cremshaw at the gate, if and when he arrives, or two: we ask the Queen to cancel her luncheon for today."

"I understand your feelings on this, Sir John," said Rufus. "However, with our limited knowledge of what's actually going on, I must point out that it is currently impossible to know if there is only the one dopplegänger. Cancel the lunch or arrest the fake Cremshaw and they'd know the jig was up. Anyone else who might be involved would disappear, only to reemerge after it became safer to do so. In order to have a chance to get as many as possible, we must let things unfold naturally, with the obvious exception of Her Majesty, of course."

Sir John considered the arguments. He still felt uneasy at having the Queen hide while someone else impersonated her. Still, the Minister of Magic made a strong case. They had apparently discovered this fake Lord Cremshaw more or less by chance. If others like him existed, he'd also want them found out as soon as possible.

"I'll tell you what I intend to do," replied Sir John with finality. "I'll present the information and suggested plans of action to Her Majesty. It will then be her decision on how to proceed. Please wait here." All in attendance rose as Sir John left the room.

After a few minutes, Tonks leaned in and whispered, "I told you it would have been easier _my way_."

Rufus rolled his eyes. "Despite my reputation for bending the rules, when necessary," he said, "I don't think my authority extends to the point of petrifying the Queen and obliviating her afterwards." He then mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, "Not yet, at least."

* * *

Back at Ninebanks

"Have you found out _anything_?" asked Snape in his most irritating manner. A small army of Gringott's goblins were scurrying throughout the rooms and grounds of Ninebanks. Similar teams were replicating the effort in the other strongholds with the exception of the latest acquisition in Tuscany. The Dark Lord wished for that location to remain as secret as possible.

"We have learned a great deal, sir," said the goblin in charge of the investigation. "Entry to the premises was not made through the use of a portkey. Furthermore, apparition was also not involved. We have detected residual spent magic approximately three hundred and seventy five yards to the west. The specific spells involved are not yet known, but they will be determined. Two portkeys were activated to leave. One left the signature of having four magical and two muggle travelers. The other indicated two magical beings; one of which was particularly powerful."

"If they didn't portkey or apparate," asked Snape, "how did they get inside?"

"We've detected a mixture of spell residue near the west entrance," answered the goblin. "Without further study, I cannot say for certain, but it would seem likely to be a combination of petrification and obliviate charms."

Snape sighed. "Well, if that's the best you have," he replied. "Finish you queries and inform me of your conclusions." With a bow, the goblin left.

Snape passed through the dining hall on his way to report. Grabbing a few muffins and cookies from the perpetually stocked treat table, he munched his way to the south observation room. The two guards on duty verified to him that the Dark Lord was waiting. Entering the room, he walked over and took the chair next to his master. He set the muffins between them but the cookies were a bit more off center.

"Well?" asked Voldemort, casually waving his wand and reversing the positions of the plates. He took two cookies. He might not get another chance.

"It is as we surmised, my Lord," replied Snape. "The goblins haven't determined the specific spells used, but they independently deduced that the infiltration occurred through the west door."

"I see," said Voldemort, taking a nibble. "Were they able to divine how many wizards visited us last night?"

"Indirectly," replied Snape, apprehensively. "Two portkeys were used. The first took six and the second took two. Since seven prisoners were removed, so..."

"I can do the math, Snape," snapped Voldemort. "Potter came alone, then." It was a statement; not a question.

Snape almost tried to suggest an alternative but even he knew his master was correct. Only his formerly mediocre student could have, or would have for that matter, entered alone and rescued prisoners from the Dark Lord's own cells. That he did so at two different parts of the compound only served to verify the truth in it.

"Did you enquire about better portkey wards?" asked Voldemort.

"Yes," answered Snape, slowly. This didn't go unnoticed.

"What is it?" asked Voldemort; not so much in anger as curiosity.

"There is only one portkey ward superior to the one we currently use, Master," replied Snape. "It would prevent portkey activity in either direction. The only problem with it is that it wouldn't be able to be tuned to our own portkeys. We'd have to use the grounds for our return targets."

"So?" asked Voldemort. That didn't seem to be such a big deal, but Snape was holding something back; something he really didn't want to reveal. "Out with it, Severus. I can tell you foresee a problem."

Caught, Snape had to reply. "Well, my Lord," he began, trying to come up with a way to explain this that didn't sound cowardly, "besides not being able to portkey directly inside our strongholds, we also wouldn't be able to portkey out, in case... something... happened." He held his breath.

"In case something happened?" asked Voldemort, before catching on. "You think that if we were ever visited by Potter again, it might be nice to have a way out." He said this as if catching a child telling a fib.

"No, Master," lied Snape, instinctively. At Voldemort's look, he changed that to, "Yes. It would take more than just Potter, of course. If he hadn't had that second portkey, for example, we'd have had him. The next time he comes..."

"There had better not _be_ a next time," shouted Voldemort, angrily. He looked around to see who might have overheard. Expressing such thoughts shouldn't happen in front of the foot soldiers.

"Of course not, Master," replied Snape. "We'll improve our procedures to prevent a repeat performance."

Voldemort looked at him, thinking. Quietly, he said, "I think I agree to leave the current wards as they are. We'll have to improve security in other areas, of course, but if Potter ever did decide to come again, he'd probably have a small, and I _mean_ small," at this, he held his hand about the height of an elf from the floor, "army with him."

"Of course," agreed Snape, wondering if it were permissible to note the joke. The opportunity didn't come up all that often.

"I do want a few things changed," said Voldemort. "After the new measures are initiated, separate our forces into three or four groups. Leave one here so it won't be noticed so quickly that I've left. Put one at Riddle Manor, one at Millbrex and the last at Penjerrick. I'll want my quarters set up at all four locations. I plan to move around a bit."

"I see," said Snape, approvingly. "If you're on the move, but your men aren't, Potter won't know where the true headquarters is at any particular time. Very good, my Lord." He made a note on his clipboard before turning to the next page. "Now, as to the matter of Windsor Castle. It's likely that we could send Remmington back at least one last time. Our initial purpose wouldn't be able to be implemented, of course, but an alternative plan could be improvised, if you so desired."

Voldemort considered this. He had chosen Lord Cremshaw to be the means of infiltrating the Queen's inner circle due to his frequent visits for lunch and dinner. Surely, such favor indicated that his knowledge and advice were in high demand, not only with the Queen, but with those who ran the day to day operations of her government. Recommendations for this post or that would allow opportunities for strategic placement of his supporters in high government positions. Of course, that plan went out the window after just a couple conversations with the buffoon. Remmington had reported that whenever he had tried to engage the truly influential in conversation, they had smiled and waited for some sort of a punch line. The Queen kept him near to her simply because she could use a good laugh. With only one more visit, coming up in just a few hours, nothing of consequence could be achieved.

"I see no advantage in wasting Remmington," said the Dark Lord. "Consider that part of the operation closed. We'll study what he's learned and resume the effort after the start of the year. By then, Cremshaw will have returned to his former occupation as court jester and any increases in security will begin to grow lax. Remmington will be re-introduced with a new, more properly researched identity."

"Yes, my Lord," replied Snape. "I'll notify him of his new orders." Waiting a moment to see if anything else would be brought up, Snape left.

The Dark Lord gazed out the large bay window towards the now leafless orchard to the south. Analyzing the probable fallout of the rescue of Lord Cremshaw, he came to the conclusion that, unintended as it was, it might play into his favor. By not pursuing a token attack of some sort with his fake, neither Potter nor Scrimgeour would know with certainty what his actual plans had been. They couldn't ignore the possibility of a threat, though, and would have to expend some of their limited manpower to increase the protection of the Queen. Windsor Castle was no shepherd's hut, either. Perhaps a dozen aurors, all told, would be wasted there. It might be a good time to come at them in an entirely new direction. Smiling, Voldemort contemplated his options as he went back to working on his second cookie.

* * *

In the hospital wing of Hogwarts

"I'm glad to see you're awake and feeling better." Harry sat on the bed opposite Cathy Diben. He was there for his ten o'clock appointment with Cindy, Sophia and Adrian. Arriving five minutes early, he had noticed that Cathy was finally able to sit up and take a bit of nourishment. Since that nourishment was in the form of Poppy's award winning chicken soup, he had hopes of working a request for a bowl of his own into the conversation.

"It doesn't take much to feel better than I did yesterday," commented Cathy. She took another spoonful.

"I guess not," agreed Harry. "You certainly didn't look too well when I first saw you."

"I suppose not," allowed Cathy. "My ears still seem to hurt and I have a headache, but nothing else seems to be wrong."

"That's good," said Poppy. She lit her wand and gave a brief inspection to both of Cathy's ears. "I don't see any further bleeding. The potions you're drinking will bring down the swelling so you'll most likely be fine by tomorrow."

"That's great," replied Cathy. She took another mouthful and set the bowl on a nearby table. "Are my children alright?"

"They're fine," replied Harry. "Honey; you know Honey Weasley, don't you? She and Ron watched them last night. I think that one of the other women has taken over for the day. I can have them brought here once Poppy gives the go-ahead."

"That would be wonderful," said Cathy. She smiled. "I'll bet that Parry and Ellie have stepped in. The boys know Parry the best and Tracy just loves Ellie to death."

Harry and Poppy passed uneasy looks between each other. Poppy tried to say something but couldn't seem to find the right words to begin. Harry took the hint and just blurted it out.

"Parry was the one who told Vol... I mean You-Know-Who where to find you, and when."

"No, she didn't," protested Cathy. "Parry would never do something like that." Turning to Poppy, she explained, "Parry's my friend."

"She's confessed," explained Harry, kindly. "She blames me for the death of her son. To get revenge, she joined with Voldemort." It was a testament to the level of shock that Cathy was experiencing that she didn't cry out at the actual name of the Dark Lord.

"I don't believe it," challenged Cathy, but with a hint in her tone that suggested that she might be convinced with a bit more evidence.

"It's true," said Harry. "She was sent here on purpose, just to be a spy. We don't know why you were picked to be captured, but Parry set the whole thing up."

"No!" shouted Cathy. She fell back on her bed, sobbing in near hysterics. "No. It can't be true. She was always so nice to us; to me. She's the only one who was." Cathy trailed off, crying out her grief.

Harry and Poppy sat there, silently comforting Cathy for just a few more seconds before they heard voices coming from just outside the doors. Harry stood to greet, and if necessary, divert the newcomers while Poppy continued to tend to the heartbroken Cathy.

"I don't understand it, either," said Martha as her party came through the large double doors. "All I know is that Harry's aunt and uncle were able to come and go as they pleased afterwards. From what I've heard, his uncle got an added bonus of having the effects of years of eating fried food wiped clean. Well, some of the effects. He still casts a pretty wide shadow."

"Hello, Mr. Potter," said Cindy, cheerily, as she walked past the privacy screen and spotted him. "We're here for our..." She stopped when she saw the state that Cathy was in. Taking a step closer, she was stopped by Harry.

"She's just had some bad news," explained Harry. "Let's sit over here while Poppy calms her down a bit." He gestured towards some chairs and benches on the far side of the infirmary.

"I'll sit with her," offered Martha. She could see that Cathy was quite distraught, but also knew that Poppy was the one with the skills to proceed with the treatment of her group.

After everyone had settled into their chairs, Sophia asked, "Is she da one yew mun'ioned last night, Mr. Potter. The one yew said yew came ter save?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "Her name is Cathy Diben. She's one of the widows who live here."

"That's what Martha was telling us," said Cindy. "She said that Cathy is the widow of one of the members of the other side; those Death Eater people."

"Yes," replied Harry. "She has three small children, though; two boys and a baby girl, so I didn't want to isolate her from the others. She's nice enough, though." He then had something come to mind that had caught his attention earlier but which he hadn't had time to pursue, until now. "Sophie?" he asked. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"It depends on 'ow personal you're talkin' about," replied Sophia, "but I 'ave a pret'y wide range ov allowable quesshuns fer people what 'ave saved me life. OK?"

"Er, okay," said Harry. "Well, you look to be about my age, but I don't remember your having attended school here. Are you older than you look?"

"I'm nineteen, gov'nor," replied Sophia. "I attended classes at da Accademia di Tre Lupi, though."

"You studied overseas, then?" asked Harry.

"No," replied Sophia. "I live there. I'm Italian."

"Italian?" asked Harry. "You don't sound Italian."

"Thank yew," replied Sophia. "My English teacher, Mr. Bert Jorrocks, said I was 'is best student."

"Of course," said Harry. "I... I guess that explains the confusion." Looking up, he said, "It looks like Poppy's ready."

Madame Pomfrey came over to join them. Behind her, Cathy was sitting up in her bed, again, and was continuing to work on her bowl of soup. Martha was calmly talking with her and it seemed that the worst of her most recent shock was beginning to wane.

"That poor girl just can't catch a break," muttered Poppy. Brushing off the subject in order to fully concentrate on her duties, she said, "This shouldn't take more than a few minutes. As you've been told, we're going to give each of you a bit of Harry's blood. I've checked all of you already, of course, but this is an added precaution. It's very special blood. If any of you have a virus or some other infection that's gone unnoticed, this should take care of it."

"Martha said that it would let us see the outside of this place, too," added Cindy.

"That's right," said Harry. "Muggles can't ordinarily see Hogwarts or enter it on their own, but this will take care of that for a few months."

"Wonderful," said Cindy. "After being cooped up in that cell, I'd really like to go outside for a bit."

"It shouldn't be a problem once we're done," assured Poppy. "Now, who's first?"

After a few minutes, the three of them had been treated and the small group, including Harry and Poppy, headed back across the room to collect Martha.

"Are you ready to see your children, now?" asked Harry.

"Always," replied Cathy, smiling. "Harry? Martha told me it was you who came and brought me back."

"Yes," replied Harry, "it was. I was also able to pick up these three along with Ollivander, Fortescue and a muggle man."

"Oh," said Cathy. "I must have misunderstood. I thought Martha said you came just for me."

"He did," said Martha, defending her communication skills. "The other tag-alongs were a bonus."

"Not that we're complaining," added Cindy.

"Neither am I," said Cathy. "But I don't understand why you did it. It must have been terribly dangerous."

"I survived," said Harry, shrugging off the underlying question.

"I mean it, Harry," said Cathy. "You're so important, and I'm nobody. How could you risk so much for me?"

"Because you're not nobody," said Harry. "You're the mother of three children who need you. You're the widow who's told me stories about Joe that makes him more than just a Death Eater. You're... well, you're my friend, Cathy, and I like you." Not all of this was strictly true, insofar as his reasons for saving her were concerned. He did know, however, that she needed to be told that she had more people; more friends on her side than just Parry.

"Thank you, Harry," said Cathy, tearing up a bit, but in happiness, this time. "It's good to have you as a friend."

"You're welcome, Cathy," said Harry in return. "Now, I'll escort these three back to their flat and be back in a bit with Tracy and those terrorists you seem to have confused with your boys."

* * *

In the office of the Headmistress of Hogwarts

"Great. She isn't even here." Rufus quickly checked the conference room. It was empty. "Elf," he said.

"Minister," replied Monty, a moment later.

"Where's Minerva?" asked Rufus.

"The Headmistress is currently assisting Professor Weasley in her classroom," replied Monty.

"Oh?" asked Rufus, momentarily curious. "Why's that?"

"Professor..." began Monty.

"It doesn't matter," interrupted Tonks. "Have her return here immediately."

"Minister?" asked Monty, verifying his underling's ability to override him.

"She's right," affirmed Rufus. "Harry Potter and his wife also need to be here."

"Mrs. Potter is currently sleeping, Minister," said Monty. "Perhaps..."

"It doesn't matter," repeated Tonks, excitedly. "We don't have much time to get ready."

"Very well," replied Monty. "Mr. Potter is currently..."

"I don't care where he is or what he's doing," interrupted Rufus to the mounting irritation of the Head Elf. "Just bring him here."

Pop. McGonagall arrived holding the hand of Penny, a shy house elf from the housekeeping section.

"Rufus," said McGonagall, not entirely pleased to see him. "What's..."

Pop. Harry popped into the office on his own. He didn't need the help of an elf for transportation purposes.

"Good morning, Rufus," said Harry. "What's up?"

"You're going to have to shave," said Rufus, giving Harry a quick once over."

"But Hermione said she likes it when I have a few..." began Harry.

Pop. Hermione joined the others, but she didn't look particularly stable upon arrival. Rufus, being the closest, quickly pulled out a chair and placed it behind her. Hermione gratefully plopped her butt down.

"Good morning, Rufus," said Hermione. "This'd better be important."

"It is," said Rufus. Indicating the Potters, he said, "You two need to go to your rooms and put on your best robes. Muggle best if you have any. I'll be doing the same at my house. Jack's already picking up Greta. I wouldn't want her to miss the opportunity."

"What opportunity?" asked McGonagall.

"Harry and Hermione," replied Rufus, "along with myself and a guest, have been invited to have a private lunch with the Queen. I'll explain it all to you later, but for now, she'd like to know what's been going on in the war."

"How nice," said McGonagall, disingenuously. "Did you bring me here so that I could give Mr. and Mrs. Potter excuses to miss class?"

"Of course not," replied Rufus. "You'll need to go with Tonks to Windsor Castle so you can get ready."

"Ready for what?" asked Minerva.

"Well," explained Rufus, "as I said, I'll explain in detail later. For now, we need the Queen to be somewhere safe while appearing to be at her usual seat in Windsor Castle. We need someone who could carry herself in the same manner as Her Majesty. Naturally..." He gave her a smile and a shrug.

"Oh, no," gasped McGonagall, catching on.


	122. Chapter 122

Chapter 122 - Help Wanted: Royal Executioner

November 28th, 1997

In the Private Dressing Room of The Queen

"Turn around." The elderly woman watched carefully as the other elderly woman, who bore a striking resemblance to her, slowly revolved in front of the mirror. "Hmm," she commented, giving the hem a tug. "That doesn't seem to fit you just right." She stepped into the left side of the walk-in closet and chose another outfit.

"We don't have a lot of time," replied the other woman, removing the jacket. "It's nearly a quarter of."

The first woman returned and hung the new suit on the peg of the wardrobe. "I've been late more than once in my life," she said. "I haven't heard anyone complaining, yet." She laughed, dangerously. In truth, there had been a few men brave enough to point out her tardiness. One in particular, the Prince Consort, had done so for slightly over fifty years.

"I suppose not, your Majesty," replied her temporary twin. Although equally likely to have few complaints, Minerva McGonagall valued punctuality as a virtue. She'd walk out naked if she had to, but she'd be on time.

"This outfit works best with pearls," remarked the Queen. She stepped to her jewelry closet while the other Queen struggled into the tight-fitting bodice.

"This seems a bit tight," complained McGonagall, loosening some of the laces.

"It fits _me_ just right," countered Queen Elizabeth. "Of course, you were a bit taller to start." That was putting it mildly, to say the least.

"We're exactly the same size, now," replied McGonagall, growing weary of explaining the concept. "Perhaps it's been awhile since you wore..."

"Are you implying," intoned Her Majesty, 'that I might have gained a few pounds?" She narrowed her eyes a bit as McGonagall finished the necessary adjustments.

"No, your Highness," answered McGonagall. "I'm not _implying _that at all." Her eyes had a glint of their own.

"Don't lose this," ordered the Queen, putting the multi-strand pearl necklace in McGonagall's hand. "It was a gift from the Maharaja." McGonagall slipped the strings over her head and spun back and forth in the mirror.

"It'll do," she said, taking the matching gloves and pulling them quickly over her hands. For a perfect impersonation, she'd have needed the Queen's rings. As some of them hadn't come off for decades, with her wedding ring having been put into place some fifty years and eight days earlier, the gloves were the best alternative. A purse, slightly used but familiar to the guests, was added. McGonagall took the bottle of polyjuice potion that was setting on a nearby shelf and, after taking a good-sized gulp to reset the clock, placed it inside the purse.

"Now," said the Queen, walking towards the door of her private suite, "the names of everyone are stuck to the back of a thin bar that separates my, or I should say _your_ part of the table from everyone else. It's not always their full names; just what I call them. The closest to the center are the closest to you; both left and right. I'm afraid I have a frightful memory, so if things go bad, just point and say, 'You. The one in blue.' That always works."

"I understand," replied McGonagall. "Is there anything else I should know?" They were at the door.

"I'd keep my answers short and vague," replied the Queen, straightening out Minerva's garments. "All of the men will kiss your hand and the women will curtsy. Don't reciprocate either one; especially the kissing. I have a rather unique laugh, so don't listen to any jokes. If you need to use the rest room, don't make any comparisons to race horses; just leave. And lunch isn't over until you thank them for coming."

"I understand," said Minerva. She reached for the handle, but had her hand slapped away by the Queen.

"Just pretend all of the knobs are electrified," she suggested. With a final once over, she knocked on the door for the doorman. As it swung open, she stepped behind the hinge side and whispered, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Minerva, rolling her eyes, stepped through and followed her guards as the muffled laughter faded away.

* * *

Lunch

"I must apologize for the selection," said Lord Voldemort. "I'm afraid that lunch isn't usually as much of a production for us as I'd expect you're used to." As it turned out, it wasn't the quantity of available items, nor even the quality that was perceived as being potentially deficient for Count L'Argenterie's tastes so much as the unvaried nature of the category. Dinky, living to serve her master as efficiently and completely as possible, adapted her cooking to please the tastes of those being fed. In a short time, she had come to understand that breakfast and supper were the main sit down meals of the day, while lunch wasn't much more than an extended; make that extremely extended tea that was, to the best of her abilities perpetual. Durable snack items would be added throughout the day to a pair of tables on either end of the dining hall. Anyone, at any time, could partake of whatever was available. For this reason, an unexpected guest such as the Count would by necessity have to wait if he wished something more substantial.

"I'm sure I could whip up something satisfactory for you, Henri," suggested Richards. He bloodshot eyes notwithstanding, he did feel much better with the unexpected arrival of his newest friend.

"Perhaps something light," replied the count, wandering amongst the rolls, cookies, cakes and homemade candies. "Perhaps a quiche poireaux, if it would not be too much trouble."

"No trouble at all, Henri," replied Richards, vacantly. "It might take a bit longer than you'd prefer."

"I shall be here for a while," replied the Count. "In any event, I doubt that I will starve." He added the fifth snack to his plate as he strolled. Richards nodded and headed off to the kitchen; hoping for the first time that Dinky lived up to her hype.

"I'm sure that you are wondering, my dear lord," began Count L'Argenterie, as he took a seat at a nearby table, "why I have dropped everything to come so quickly upon receiving your letter." He made his first selection from the plate; a chocolate covered mint wafer.

"I am," replied Lord Voldemort. "From our past conversations, it seemed that you were quite involved in some sort of extensive project that required your continued presence."

"I still am," replied the Count. "However, I am familiar with your security infrastructure, having supplied direction to my agents on implementing improvements, as we had agreed. I would like to see the report that was provided by the Gringotts goblins after their investigation. Perhaps they have some insights, but I fail to see how anyone, cloaked or otherwise, was able to enter this compound without detection. As far as I am aware, and I have spent my lifetime studying such matters, there should be no way to simply walk into a building that is protected by the Unplottable Charm. It is simply not possible to see the building, much less enter it when so protected."

"My thoughts exactly," replied Voldemort. "It is for this reason that I have asked for your help. My knowledge is vast, but as you have mentioned, you're the expert. If you can't figure out what happened and find a means to prevent its recurrence, no one can."

"You attack my modesty," said the Count, "but I must admit you are correct. I shall begin immediately." He looked at his plate, still containing a thousand or so calories of treats. "Perhaps immediately is too strong a word. Let us try instead for soon."

* * *

In a very large, formal dining room in Windsor Castle.

'Queen Minerva' sighed in relief. She had made it through the first few minutes of this luncheon without significant problems. She had already greeted most of her guests cordially, if generically. Until they took their places, the cheat sheet in front of her was useless. Around her, the invited guests were chatting politely as they made the first few moves towards taking their seats and starting their lunches. Some had scones; others cinnamon rolls. Minerva had been given an apricot tart. She hadn't asked for it and probably wouldn't have done so if left to her own devices. She was offered one, though, by the young man whose sole job seemed to be to attend to her needs. There was something about the way he did so that seemed to imply that a refusal on her part would not have been expected. With a muttered word of thanks, she took the pastry and set it next to her plate. The servant seemed surprised, but said nothing. Shortly thereafter, he placed a cup of hot tea, complete with gilt saucer next to her. Cream had already been mixed in, so she tried a sip. Not quite sure if she liked it, she took another, more representative swallow. There was no doubt about it; it decidedly needed something; especially if she was going to make it through this day with all of her marbles. Trying not to look suspicious, she signaled for her server to lean in. Whispering nearly inaudibly, she spoke briefly with the man before handing him the cup. Momentarily perplexed, he quietly backed away before heading off to the nearest liquor cabinet.

One of the guests suddenly veered off course and headed straight towards her. "Your Majesty," he said with a practiced tongue, "I'm so glad you've overcome the sniffle that plagued you on Tuesday." Minerva classified him as a potentially close friend who dined moderately frequently with the Queen.

"Yes," she replied, "I'm feeling much better today. Thank you." She didn't have much else to add so she took a defensive nibble of her tart.

"Is Prince Philip still..." He made a swirling motion with his left hand while giving half of a shrug.

"Ah, yes," confirmed Minerva. "He is." She figured she had a fifty-fifty chance with that answer.

"That's too bad," commented the man. He took his chair, allowing Minerva to identify him as Lord Huntington.

"We're hoping for a full recovery," added Minerva.

"A full recovery?" asked Lord Huntington, confused. Apparently, the Prince Consort was not afflicted by anything that involved recovery.

"In a manner of speaking," ad libbed Minerva, hoping that some of Poppy's quick wit would flow from her tongue and allow her to end this subject. After a few seconds, it became apparent that that woldn't behappening. "Check with me tomorrow," she finally offered. "I think that things will have, ah, stabilized by then."

"Yes, your Majesty," replied the Lord, as confused as ever. He turned politely, as if just now discovering the young lady sitting next to him.

'Bloody hell,' thought Minerva. 'Only nineteen more.' Where was that tea?

* * *

In an equally formal, but significantly smaller room in the same castle.

"Don't be silly, my dear," said the Queen from near the doorway through which she had just passed, signaling for Harry and Rufus to abandon their attempt to help Hermione stand to greet her. "I'm not in the habit of forcing people in wheelchairs to rise in my presence." She walked across the inlaid marble floor and her assistants alternately maneuvered and stabilized her chair as she took her rightful place at the table's head. They weren't her regular team of personal servants, since those were off attending to Minerva. Instead, they had been told what was pretty much the truth. A threat had been detected that could endanger the Queen. An imposter was taking her place for the sake of safety. No mention was made of magic, of course, and they had all been warned to never mention a word of any of this to anyone.

"Your Majesty," said Rufus after she had taken her seat. He approached her and bowed slightly at the neck before kissing her hand. "May I present my granddaughter, Miss Greta Grundle." Greta didn't step forward and curtsy as she had been instructed. In fact, she didn't move at all. Staring at the Queen in total shock was pretty much her only option, at this point.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Grundle," said the Queen, having become used to this reaction. She stared back for a moment before commenting, "You know, if you don't breathe soon, you're going to turn blue." This broke the spell and Greta was able to blush and quickly scurry behind her grandfather.

Rufus, having already met the Queen earlier that day, took on the responsibility of introducing Harry and Hermione. "The gentleman to your left, ma'am," he continued, "is Mr. Harry Potter. Mr. Potter; Her Majesty the Queen."

Harry bowed quickly at the waist, nearly giving himself a new scar as he narrowly missed the tabletop. Upon straightening up, he saw the Queen's raised arm, a generous clue from her that he was supposed to kiss her hand as Rufus had, and taking hold of it, gave her a hearty handshake. "Nice to meet you, ah... Queen Elizabeth?" He glanced feebly back at Hermione, but she had already put her face in her hands.

"The lady with Mr. Potter," continued Rufus, "is his wife, Hermione Potter." Hermione smiled and said, "I am honored to meet you, your Majesty."

The Queen smiled back and said, "Now that we have that out of the way, let's chat." Turning to her attendants, she said, "We wish to have a private luncheon. Enter only through the north door, but knock once first." The two men nodded and silently left the room. The guards at either door opened them and resumed their positions just outside.

"You may be seated, gentlemen," said the Queen. Harry and Rufus took their chairs; Harry more noisily than Rufus.

"Has the Minister of Magic notified you of the purpose of this luncheon?" asked the Queen, of Harry.

"Just briefly, your Majesty," replied Harry. "He said you'd like an update on the war with Lord Voldemort."

"Yes, that's part of it," replied the Queen. "It will be more of a briefing than an update, actually. As you might have imagined, my attention has been diverted to... other things, lately." She looked down, somberly.

"Of course," said Hermione. "Our sympathies and best wishes to you and your family." Rufus nodded his agreement.

"Thank you," replied the Queen. "Before we discuss the other details, I do wish to ask if there was any connection between... the accident and this Lord Voldemort."

"Not as far as we've been able to determine, your Majesty," replied Rufus. He looked to Harry for additional acknowledgement.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry. "What accident?"

Everyone looked at him in surprise. "Surely," said Rufus, "you've heard about the death of Princess Diana." The Queen looked as shocked as anyone. Hermione, though, had a valid explanation and rushed to the defense of her husband.

"Harry was unconscious most of the day of her death," she explained, "as well as half of the next." Turning more to Rufus than the Queen, she added, "Princess Diana had her car accident the same day that the Hogwarts Express was destroyed. The Daily Prophet centered more on that story as opposed to the other."

"What, exactly," asked the Queen, "is the Hogwarts Express?" She had been momentarily upset that the young man hadn't known that the former future Queen of Great Britain had been killed, but now it seemed he might have a valid reason.

"The Hogwarts Express, Majesty," explained Rufus, "is the train that brings the students from London to Hogwarts; the British wizarding school in Scotland. There was an attack this year, on August thirty-first. Death Eaters destroyed the magical bridge over the River Mudale. The train was mostly destroyed and four students killed. Harry, here, was able to prevent a total catastrophe, though. He slowed the train as much as he could before destroying the tender, thereby releasing the engine from the rest of the train. It went over the embankment, but Harry let the cars crash into him to prevent them from following." Harry bowed his head at the unexpected telling of the tale with the onrush of its associated memories. Hermione reached over and put her hand on his.

"That sounds like quite the tale," said the Queen. Putting her finger to her chin, she said, "I understand the part about the train going to school. I understand the part about the bridge being destroyed. I believe I can accept the part about somehow slowing the train and separating the engine from the cars. However, I'll need some more information about the last part. You say Mr. Potter let the cars; _train cars_, I assume; crash into him to stop them?"

"Well," said Harry, "it wasn't like they didn't do any damage, but I was much larger at the time. You see, I can..."

"Harry can turn into a dragon," gushed out Greta, excitedly. "He's red and gold and really big." She held out her arms as wide as she could spread them. The ice had been broken and she was ready to talk. This was, after all, her favorite subject.

"A dragon, you say," replied the Queen, smiling at Greta. "I suspect that would come in handy, at times."

"It does," replied Greta, not slowing down. "For Mistress Minerva's birthday party, he gave everyone rides. I got to go twice."

"You did, did you?" asked the Queen. "That must have..."

"It was scary at first," interrupted Greta. "Grampa was sitting next to me, though, and we had the seat belts on so we were safe."

"Seat belts?" asked the Queen. "_On a dragon?_"

"I didn't want anyone falling out," explained Harry. "We also had a safety elf."

"A safety elf," repeated the Queen, finally coming to the conclusion that they weren't kidding.

"Of course," replied Harry. "I did a few barrel rolls and loopty-loops, so it was important to make sure everyone stayed in their seats."

"Barrel rolls..." repeated the Queen. "Exactly how many people could you carry at a time?"

"We have a harness that holds sixteen," explained Hermione. "Harry could probably do a few more if he had to, but that seemed large enough to keep up with the demand." She was prevented from expanding on the details by the sound of a knock behind her. The Queen held up her hand and gave a general summoning gesture while looking towards the north. The guards had opened the door and three men bearing trays of food and a folding table upon which to set them walked up to the small group.

"I do hope, Greta," said the Queen as an attendant set a plate of cucumber sandwiches in front of her, "that you'll be able to find something that you'll enjoy for your lunch."

Without missing a beat, Harry asked, "Do you have ice cream?" Greta turned to look at the trays, but the three adult guests were unable to suppress a quick chuckle at the reference.

"I believe that there's more to that comment than it seems," noted the Queen, "or am I mistaken?" She took a bite as her tea was poured.

"It's actually quite a funny story," said Harry, smiling. "You see..."

"Funny?" interrupted Rufus. "I was nearly killed and Paul had his hand blown off."

"I meant it's funny in hindsight," said Harry. "I'll admit that it wasn't all that much fun at the time; at least for you."

"We'll take care of the rest," said Hermione to the serving crew. They looked to the Queen, who nodded her approval. Setting down the rest of the plates and cups, the three men left. Their orders to remain silent just became more difficult.

"Go on, then," said the Queen. She leaned forward, eager to hear another amazing tale.

* * *

Back at Ninebanks.

"You see?" asked the Count as Voldemort peered over his shoulder. "The memories regress normally until this point." He held the wand steady while the floating indicator showed the time as being from the previous night around nine o'clock. "When you go back just a bit further, there's a slight jump before it starts up again. I suspected that a special version of the Obliviate Spell has been used. It appears I was correct. I can teach it to you for a small fee, if you like. In any event, it means that those memories aren't covered up or hidden in some way. This spell, when used with its brother spell, removes a set of memories completely. You'll only damage your men if you insist on trying to retrieve them. They just are not there." He flicked his wand and released Gerald Abernathy, one of the entrance guards from the previous night, from the effects of the memory charm. Giving him a tap on his shoulder, he sent him back to his seat.

"I was unaware that such a perfect Obliviate Spell existed," commented Voldemort. "It would certainly explain the confusion of time between the guards and the team sent to check outside at the first indication of intruders."

"That was my thought as well," said the Count. "The only spells I detected that had been used on the front guards were Petrificus Totalus and Finite. I inferred the use of the memory charm by the skip in the flow of their memories. It only lasted a short time. The men who left the building were untouched. Of more concern is the fact that the spell to negate the effects of the Unplottable Charm must be done individually and personally by the master of the house or object being hidden. You obviously would not do that for this Harry Potter, so how did he find the door in the first place?" By this time, he was talking more to himself than Voldemort. It had been many years since Count L'Argenterie was as stumped as he was now.

Lord Voldemort; his paranoia fully charged, asked a very important question. "Is there any way to tell if this is indeed the first time that we have been visited?"

The Count looked up in surprise that quickly turned serious. "You are right, my friend," he said. "Nothing was detected until the prisoners were taken. Having the intelligence detector go off was a nightly occurrence, according to what you have told me. How, indeed, could we know if you have not had spies sitting among your men for months?"

Instinctively, Voldemort looked around. His eyes changed a shade as he suspiciously brought his ability to see through concealments to full power. At least no unwanted guests were in the room with them. But he couldn't spend his days wandering around his various headquarters, searching for elusive spies.

As if reading his mind, which was no great trick at the moment, Count L'Argenterie grasped Voldemort with a confident grip on his shoulder and said, "In this matter, my friend, I am able to help. It is a bit more extreme than would normally be necessary, but I have two or three spells that will sound an alarm, no matter who is near or what they do. I shall place them at your entrances. If you can get used to the noise when your own men set them off, you will no longer have unknown visitors to contend with."

"For a small fee, of course," said Voldemort; not in contempt, but in jest.

"Do not worry," replied the Count, equally cheered, "it will not hurt a bit."

* * *

Back at Windsor Castle

Minerva held in her hand the selected first component of the Queen's lunch with but one thought on her mind; 'I hate cucumber sandwiches.' Still, she had to maintain the illusion. She took a bite. She was immediately reminded of exactly _why_ she hated cucumber sandwiches.

"Is there anything wrong, your Highness?" asked a man, fourth from the end on the left hand side. McGonagall looked at the list hidden in front of her.

"No, Lord, ah Haverly," she replied after quickly swallowing. "I, uh." She stopped for a moment to take a quick swig of tea to get the taste out of her mouth. "I think I'd like something different, today." Minerva rose a bit in her seat; she was, after all, about six inches shorter than usual, and peered over at the serving tables.

"I can't see from here," she muttered. Grabbing the sleeve of her server, she asked, "Are those bannocks?" She pointed at some sort of browned item that resembled the guessed dish with her slightly blurred eyes.

"Bannocks, your Majesty?" replied the man, surprised. He tried to see where she was pointing.

"Next to the scones," clarified Minerva, leaning in closer.

"That's salmon balmoral, your Majesty," informed the servant. "Lord McLaughton is particularly partial to that dish."

"Lord McLaughton," said Minerva, checking her list. It wasn't on it. "Is he here?" she whispered.

"Yes, your Majesty," replied the confused servant, also in a whisper. "He's just on the other side of Lady Beatrice." He wondered how this level of impairment was achieved with the short shot of whiskey that he had slipped into her tea. He had no way of knowing, of course, of the more substantial swig she had taken before deeming herself ready to leave Hogwarts in the first place.

Minerva found 'Lady B' quickly and noticed that Lord McLaughton was identified with the short, albeit unimaginative moniker of 'Mac'. He was a middle aged gentleman of moderate height and average features. In one area, though, he excelled. He was a good eighteen stones, to be kind.

"I think he'll survive, just this once," said Minerva with a slight smile. "I'll have one of those and, hmm, a bit of kedgerie. We'll talk about dessert after that's gone." What's the point of being in someone else's body if you can't indulge yourself a bit?

"Very good, your Majesty," replied the server who quickly removed the sandwiches and went to fetch the requested items.

Minerva's smile returned quickly as she took another sip of tea.

"Your appetite seems to have improved, your Majesty," commented the man to her immediate left. The seat opposite him, normally reserved for Lord Cremshaw, remained empty. Apparently Lord Voldemort had decided not to risk another incursion, after all.

"I suppose it has, ah, Duke," she replied. She backed up as her chosen lunch started to arrive.

"Is that salmon?" asked the Duke of Lancaster. He had a penchant for the fish that rivaled the Queen's.

"It is," replied Minerva, "although if you'd like any, you'd better hurry. Mac's already down one piece, after all."

The Duke signaled his agreement to his server. "Your Majesty has sharp eyes," he observed. "It's heartening to see you're regaining your appetite after all of the feasting from the celebration." He watched as his attendant held up the platter. He silently indicated the piece on the left.

"Feasting?" asked Minerva, buttering a nearby roll. She took a bite as she looked back for elaboration.

"I realize," replied the Duke, "that the festivities were cut back, due to the circumstances, but I believe that the dinners surrounding your and Prince Philip's golden anniversary still qualified as feasting." He leaned back to allow his former choice to be replaced by the salmon. He then requested that his claret, normally his unconventional choice with lunch, be replaced with a Pinot Grigio to better complement the salmon.

"Oh," said Minerva, thinking, "of course. Yes, I was put a bit off larger meals after all of that... feasting." The kedgerie arrived just then, so she had a chance to break off the conversation. The Duke, unfortunately, wouldn't let her go that easily.

"An excellent choice, your Majesty," he said, receiving his salmon in turn. Taking a sip of his wine, he asked, "So is Prince Philip off painting again?" He sliced off his first bite and slipped it quickly between his teeth. It seemed to pass muster, as he immediately started on the second.

"Painting?" asked Minerva, slightly distracted by the aroma of her own dish. "Yes. Yes, he is," she replied. She looked for her server, wondering if she dared ask for some sour cream and lemon juice to use for dipping.

"Yes, your Majesty," answered the Duke. "I thought he had taken it up, lately."

"Oh, yes," replied Minerva, finally finding her server, standing directly behind her. She made her request.

"What has he chosen for a model?" asked the Duke. He was only a quarter done with the salmon but nearly finished with the wine. His server stood by; waiting.

"I'm sorry?" asked Minerva, turning back.

"What's the prince painting?" repeated the Duke.

"Oh," said Minerva, thinking. "There's a shed out back that needed a new coat." Several of those closest to her unexpectedly found themselves laughing. The Queen had caught them off guard, again.

"Very good, your Majesty," responded the Duke, chuckling at her wit. "I've no doubt that I'll get the same response when I repeat that at the club." He smiled brightly at her.

"I would hope so," responded Minerva, blushing as she guessed her misinterpretation. She cut another piece to prevent further embarrassment.

"I see you're avoiding wine this afternoon, your Majesty," said Lady B. "Are you planning on riding later?"

"Not if I can help it," muttered Minerva.

"Then come join me," offered the Duke. "Salmon this excellent deserves a proper spirit." He gestured towards the bottle of Pinot Grigio that the server had just used to fill his glass.

Minerva, feeling a bit more comfortable than earlier, said, "Why not?"

* * *

A short time and shorter distance away

"I don't regret it," added Hermione, "but I wouldn't want to have to do it again."

"I agree," agreed the Queen. "At the spur of the moment, you don't have time to consider who's the most important or search for other options. You just know that someone you love's in danger and act." She set her napkin next to her plate before reconsidering. "I believe that you might require some reinforcements, my dear." She handed her napkin to Greta, who was searching for a clean spot on her own with which to wipe her most recent spill.

"Thanks," said Greta, making the substitution. Wiping her face clean; well, cleaner, she remarked that, "I'll bet Melody won't believe any of this, either." Despite being officially finished, she slid her finger around the inside of the bowl before licking off a last taste of ice cream.

"Melody is Greta's best friend," explained Rufus. "She's a muggle, though, and seems to think Greta's imagination gets the best of her."

"I suppose I might, too," said the Queen, "if my friend told tales of traveling through fireplaces to visit people and riding dragons at magical parties."

"And meeting the Queen," added Hermione. She had finished eating first, as usual. With the opportunity unavailable due to both her present company and lack of material, she was keenly aware of just how powerful of a hold the habit of reading after lunch had on her.

"In this case," said the Queen, "I might be able to help." Picking up her purse from the floor next to her, she retrieved a small, but ornate card with the Queen's crest and portrait on one side and blank on the other. Taking a pen, as well, she flipped the card over and wrote a short note.

"Here you go, Greta," she said, handing the card to Greta.

Greta read the card with difficulty, being in script. It stated:

_Please excuse my friend, Greta, from missing her classes. She was having lunch with me. Elizabeth R_

"Oh, thank you," said Greta, searching for a pocket in her dress before handing the card to Grandpa.

"You're very welcome," replied the Queen. As everyone had finished eating, and not wishing to be sidetracked again, she asked quite directly, "I'd like to hear the story of how Lord Cremshaw was rescued. He's very dear to me, and I'm glad for his safe return, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what anyone would have to gain by abducting him."

"We haven't proceeded very far with the investigation," said Rufus, mentally lining up his thoughts, "but his greatest value to Lord Voldemort was probably the reason you mentioned. You like him. He comes for lunch on a regular basis. If they wanted someone who could get close to you without arousing suspicion, he'd be your man. His assigned seat is very near to yours, so it was reasonable to assume that he is a man of influence."

"I see," replied the Queen. "I wonder how long it took for them to guess the truth?" She had a knowing smile that failed to hide her opinion on the matter.

"About as long as we did, your Majesty," replied Harry. "I'd like to point out, though, that when I prepared to send them all to safety, he offered to stay and help."

"I'm not surprised," replied the Queen. "His father was also a brave man. He was able to combine it with a formidable intellect, as well. I miss his counsel." She looked sad.

After a moment, she continued. "Speaking of brave men, I gather that Lord Cremshaw wasn't the person you originally attempted to rescue. What led you into the lion's den?"

"Well," began Harry, "we think that it was another case of Lord Voldemort overestimating someone's importance. There are several widows and orphans of aurors under our protection at Hogwarts. One of them, Cathy Diben, is the widow of a Death Eater. She was out shopping, with a pair of elves for bodyguards, when the Death Eaters ambushed her and took her back to their headquarters."

"If she was the widow of one of these Death Eaters," asked the Queen, "why did you assume she was abducted instead of a willing participant."

"She has three children," explained Harry. "Her baby, Tracy, was still at Hogwarts and she told the elves to protect her boys, who were with her. She'd never have left them or put them in danger if she could have helped it. She just isn't the type."

"I see," said the Queen. "So you decided to rescue her. Go on."

Harry paused before continuing so Rufus took over. "Harry wanted to save her, your Majesty," he explained, "but we had a meeting of the Inner Circle and it was determined that entering Lord Voldemort's stronghold to save Mrs. Diben just wasn't worth the risk. She didn't really know anything of value and it would be incredibly dangerous to make the attempt. Hundreds of Death Eaters and Voldemort, himself, would be there, you see."

"Yet you went after her anyway," said the Queen. "Why?"

"In the end, I had to go," said Harry. "It's just not in me to stand by while someone is tortured or killed if I can help prevent it. I went on similar missions to save Hermione and Minerva." He smirked and added, "Both of them yelled at me for it."

"I didn't yell," said Hermione. "I just don't want you risking your life when it isn't necessary."

"Excuse me," said the Queen. "I thought that your injuries were incurred during an attack. You didn't mention that you had been captured."

"That was back in July, your Majesty," replied Hermione. "I was captured by Voldemort and taken to his main headquarters; Riddle Manor. He wanted Harry to try to come and rescue me."

"He should be careful what he wishes for," said Rufus, with a smirk. "Harry killed about two dozen of his men to get her back."

"They deserved it," said Harry. He didn't elaborate.

"I must have missed something," said the Queen. "You said that you rescued both your wife and Mrs. McGonagall. Why did they take her?"

"They were captured separately," replied Harry. "I think Minerva was taken in Sepember. They didn't take her as part of a trap for me, though. At the time, they thought she was more involved in my plans than she was. They just wanted to get as much information out of her as they could and then kill her."

"But you saved her, as well," said the Queen. She eyed him appraisingly.

"Yes," said Harry, "but not by myself, that time. Dobby was a house elf who joined me in that battle. He was killed."

"I see," replied the Queen. "I..." She stopped at a sharp knock on the door. They all watched as Sir John rushed in and whispered something urgently into the Queen's ear.

"I'm afraid that there's some trouble at the other luncheon," she said. "Apparently, Mrs. McGonagall's got her hackles up over something."

"What do you mean?" asked Rufus.

"I'm not sure," replied the Queen. She looked to Sir John for further clarification.

"I only heard part of it, your Majesty," replied Sir John. "I was in and out, working with the guards, you see. Everything seemed to be going as well as could be expected for the majority of the meal, but when I checked a few minutes ago, Mrs. McGonagall was involved in a rather heated discussion with Lords McLaughton and Trent. Something about Scotland."

Harry and Rufus looked at each other. Not knowing what else to do, Harry stood and pulled out his cloak. Preparing to throw it over himself, he was stopped by Rufus.

"You may have fought dragons, golems, Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort," he stated, "but dealing with Minerva after she's fired up is out of your depth. You'd better let me handle this." He held out his hand.

Harry paused just a moment before nodding and handing over the cloak. Rufus put it around his shoulders, leaving only his head. "You'll have to get me in there," he said. Sir John nodded his understanding. With a final breath, Rufus finished his concealment and they were on their way.

"I'm sorry about this," apologized Hermione, preemptively. "Minerva's normally quite level headed."

"Just watch what you say about Scotland," added Harry, sitting back down. Both he and Hermione nodded their heads slightly at the comment. This was noticed with a smile by the Queen.

"I'm sure that Mac is doing his best to calm the situation, too," she said, insincerely. "He and Lolly; that's Lord Trent, have clashed a few times before on that subject. If Mrs. McGonagall lives up to your apparent assessment, I'll bet that Lolly doesn't know what hit him."

* * *

Back at the Battle of Bannockburn

"Ah dornt hink 'at was huir uv a funay, ye Sassenach dug," exclaimed Lord McLaughton in a fury. He stood as if considering escalating into a more fundamental form of debate.

"I'd suggest," said the 'Queen', raising her hand to calm Lord McLaughton, but facing Lord Trent, "that you might want to reconsider your theories on why kilts don't have zippers," adding in a rich Scottish burr, "or your next area of study might be a thorough treatise on the inner workings of the Tower of London."

"I don't know why you're taking his side, all of a sudden," retorted Lord Trent. "It was him that went barking at you and the Duke when he didn't get his usual fill of salmon." Not used to being double teamed, especially by the Queen, Lord Trent decided on returning to the original subject.

"It was ye fa went an' said we waur arguin' ower it loch scotsmen fightin' ower a penny," retorted Lord McLaughton. "Ye didne e'en hae a dug in thes fight."

"Well_ I_ did," replied the Duke of Lancaster, standing calmly, "and I'd like to apologize to all those present that my selfish actions contributed to the disruption of your lunches." He bowed low in contrition.

"Lolly doesnae need a reason," rejoined Lord McLaughton. "He's jist a carnaptious cuddie, he is."

"If you must insist on continuing this argument," interjected Sir Horace of Kent, "at the least speak a language we all understand. Don't you know the Queen's English?"

"Well, of course she is," replied Lady Beatrice, confusedly. "She was born in London, if I'm not mistaken." The blonde turned to Minerva, mutely requesting confirmation.

"Oh," replied Minerva, stumped. "I might have been. I was pretty young then, of course." The previous misinterpretation added to the ancient joke broke the tension in the room. The major combatants each took a breath before grudgingly letting it go and retaking their seats.

"Minerva," whispered a voice beside her.

"Bloody Hell!" exclaimed Minerva, jumping up. This didn't go unnoticed and pretty much everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and paid attention.

"Calm down," whispered the voice, again. "It's me."

Minerva recognized the voice as belonging to Rufus. Sitting back down, but needing to say something to satisfy her diners, she said, "I'm so sorry. A bug flew up my nose."

The Duke of Lancaster looked through his pockets in search of a pen and paper. He'd be trading tales of this luncheon for drinks at the club for weeks and didn't want to forget anything.

"It's nearly one o'clock," whispered Rufus. "You need to get out of here, if only to take some more polyjuice potion."

"I understand," said Minerva, not quite whispering. The nearest diners noticed and briefly looked her way before returning back to finish their meals before they were noticed noticing.

"I'll meet you back at the Queen's chambers," said Rufus as he left.

"Right," said McGonagall, standing. Everyone else stood as well, of course.

"Oh," said Minerva, remembering the formal etiquette required when in the presence of the Queen. "Let's see. Ah, thank you all for coming." Remembering an earlier comment that would help explain any discrepancies in her behavior as compared to the Queen, she added, "I'm afraid that I need to lie down for a bit. My cold medicine seems to be reacting with the wine. Please feel free to finish your lunches before you leave."

As the guests took in her last comments with quiet understanding, Minerva made a hasty exit. She caught the guards on duty off guard by her sudden ability to move quickly and nearly collided with the edge of the hastily opening door. Slipping through, she sighed in relief that she had survived lunch. Whether Rufus would be as successful after talking her into all of this was still up in the air. After all, for a few more minutes, at least, she was still 'The Queen'.


	123. Chapter 123

Chapter 123 - Reunion

November 28th, 1997

Pop! Harry and Hermione arrived back in their bedroom. Harry, who was hugging Hermione to himself, helped her back up a step or two to their bed where she blissfully lay back down. In her still weakened condition, the effort expended during lunch, while consisting of just sitting there for an hour, eating and talking, was about all that she could manage.

"Get off me," came a muffled hiss from under the bedspread.

"There's something in the bed!" said Hermione, trying unsuccessfully to sit back up. In her mind, of course, she had shrieked it, but her vocal abilities were still sub par.

"Some _one_, you mean," corrected Reggie as he slithered from under the coverings, onto the floor.

"What were you doing there?" asked Harry.

"Taking a nap," replied Reggie. "It was nice and warm under there."

"What's he saying?" asked Hermione, suspiciously.

"That it was a warm spot and he was taking a nap," replied Harry, "and he's sorry that he startled you."

"I didn't say that," retorted Reggie.

"Make that _very_ sorry," continued Harry.

"It wouldn't have been any warmer for him under there than on top, where we would have seen him," replied Hermione. "He's an ectotherm."

"You take that back," snapped Reggie, heading over to the fireplace with its much less comfortable rug on the floor.

"Just rest for a minute," said Harry, taking off his cloak. "I'll help you change in a minute." He began placing his things on a chair as he removed his 'muggle best', as Rufus had put it.

"Don't bother," replied Hermione. The smile on her face blossomed now that she was home, more or less, and her bed was snake free. "I just want to get my memories in order." She closed her eyes, dreamily.

"I thought you did that automatically," said Harry. He had to sit down. He had started to remove his trousers before remembering his shoes were still in place.

"This is different," replied Hermione. "How often does one get the chance to dine with the Queen?" She smiled, again.

"In your case," said Harry, rising again, "at least twice." He dropped his pants over the rest of his clothes and began to return to his normal attire.

"You had lunch with the Queen?" asked Reggie, returning to the area, but using the coat rack as a tree substitute.

"Yes," said Harry, continuing to change. "She was quite an interesting old lady."

"I'll bet," agreed Reggie.

"You didn't," said Hermione, disapprovingly. She didn't elaborate so Harry had to look her way. She pointed at his feet.

"No one saw them," he said. He turned one foot to the side so that he could admire the snitch design. "Dobby made them for me. I think he enchanted them somehow, because my feet don't sweat when I wear them."

Hermione shook her head. "Just stick with a proper pair of black ones, next time." Harry grunted noncommittally.

After taking a few seconds to let her ire at Harry evaporate, Hermione continue with her excited rambling. "I can't wait to write Mum," she said. "She'll be through the roof."

"Just don't tell anyone else," warned Harry, "and make sure she does the same. This is supposed to be a secret, after all."

"I know," groaned Hermione. "It's so unfair. We get to have a private lunch with _The Queen _and we can't tell anyone. That will kill Mum."

Harry thought about it for a moment before suggesting, "Tomorrow's dinner will be on the record. She can brag about that, if it makes her feel any better."

"Oh, she will," replied Hermione, nodding her head in agreement with herself. Her mother's anticipated excitement brought up another potential problem. "We have to be careful how we break the news to Honey."

"Why?" asked Harry, pulling on his school clothes.

"Because she's expecting," answered Hermione with her 'idiot' tone. "If she gets too excited, it could be bad for the baby."

Harry considered this. Honey had demonstrated her enthusiasm for celebrities when they first met and they didn't come more famous than the Queen.

"What do you suggest?" he asked, figuring she already had it worked out or she wouldn't have mentioned it.

"Well," began Hermione, "we'll start out slow. You know; mention that we'd met the Queen while taking care of her security. Then we'll bring up that since she couldn't eat with her friends, we had lunch with her so she could be brought up to speed on the war with Voldemort. After that, we'll tell her that we've been invited back to finish our report. Finally, we'll tell her that she and Ron have been invited to come along."

"And you think that would prevent her from freaking out?" asked Harry, incredulously.

Hermione considered for a moment before shaking her head. "Probably not," she admitted, "but it might keep the backflips to a minimum." She sighed before starting to fumble with her buttons.

"Why did I put these on?" asked Harry, looking at his school robes. He began to reverse the process.

"Because I forgot to remind you," admitted Hermione. "Are you leaving right away?"

"Well, first I was going to tell Lord What's-his-name," said Harry, "that _Good Queen Bess _is glad he's alright and that she expects us to bring him along for dinner on tomorrow night. Then, I'm going to see if I can find Ron. We only have Charms this afternoon. I don't want to take the chance that Mr. Tuttle, or whatever his name is, doesn't leave early."

"Tutela," said Hermione. "Rufus said he's the best in the business." She finally finished with the buttons, but would need help with getting the jacket off while flat on her back. Seeing that Harry was occupied with his marathon changing session, she said, "Please come here, Winky."

"What can Winky be doing for Mistress?" asked Winky, a moment later.

"Help me out of these clothes," requested Hermione.

"Yes, Mistress," replied Winky as she waved her hand over her mistress.

"Winky!" shouted Hermione, hoarsely. Winky had obeyed her orders with her usual absolute compliance.

"Oo la la," said Reggie, appreciatively.

Harry didn't comment, but gave Reggie a huge satyric grin and a thumbs up. Perhaps he wasn't in as much of a hurry as he'd thought.

* * *

In the Courtyard of the Widow's Wing

"Thank you, Kay," said Cathy, weakly. She had been helped to the nearest set of tables and chairs, positioned along the northwest wall of their little community. Sitting down with a controlled thump, she took a deep breath before receiving her bag of knitting from Marie, who also carried Tracy. "I'm so glad it's such a nice day. I haven't felt like I've been able to properly catch my breath since we came back."

"The fresh air should help with that," assured Kay.

"I hope so," replied Cathy. Turning to Marie, she asked, "I think I'm up to holding Tracy for a bit, if you wouldn't mind setting her on my lap."

"Of course," replied Marie, carrying over the twenty pound chub and setting her on her mother's lap. Tracy immediately snuggled in close, bringing a broad grin not only to Cathy, but a smile to the other two women with her.

"That was the worst of it," confessed Cathy, reflecting a moment, in sadness. "After a couple of hours, when I didn't seem to know any of the answers to their questions, it suddenly hit me that I might never hold her again. It was the same with my boys, too, but somehow it was Tracy that kept popping into my mind. I could see her crying; holding her arms up to be held and... and I... I wasn't there." She held Tracy a bit tighter as her own tears flowed briefly down her cheeks.

"There, there," said Marie, sitting next to her. Kay took the other side. "You're back, now. Back home with your children; safe and sound. Mostly." You generally don't recover instantly after being the guest of You-Know-Who, but Cathy was doing pretty well, all things considered.

"Oh, I know," replied Cathy, coming back out of her momentary funk. "Thanks to Harry, of course. I still don't understand why he did it. It was such a terrible risk to take and, well, despite what he said, I'm just not important. He did bring back all of those other people, though."

"There is that," agreed Kay, nodding. "The young girls and that poor boy all left for St. Mungo's while you had your nap," she added.

"Oh, dear," said Cathy. "Already? I wanted to say goodbye. They were all so nice when we first met."

"We're not sure if they're staying there," added Marie, "or just getting checked up. Florean, Olivander and that muggle man are all still here, I think."

"Oh," said Cathy, going off on a tangent, "what I wouldn't give for a Fortescue hot fudge sundae, right now."

"You and me, both," replied Kay, laughing. "Maybe we can talk him into making a couple, when we see him."

"A couple?" asked Marie. "I don't think you'd be able to enjoy them with the rest of us hounding you for bites."

"Enough for everyone, then," suggested Cathy, laughing. "If this weather holds, we could have a picnic, of sorts; the last one of the year."

"What a cracker of an idea," said Kay, looking at her watch. "Let's see. It's only one-thirty. I'll contact an elf and see if we could have dinner served out here, today. Say around five?" Any later than that and the November sun might not be so accommodating.

"That sounds like just the ticket," agreed Marie. "I'll make some of my bars for dessert."

"I've got an interesting recipe for pumpkin pie" said Cathy. "I'll make a couple of those."

"Do you think you're up to it?" asked Kay.

Cathy considered the question seriously. Taking a couple of deep, controlled breaths to see how it went, she smiled and replied, "I think I could try. Pumpkin pie is pretty easy. This is the first time we've done something like this and I do so want to contribute something to the effort."

Marie read between the lines and realized that Cathy wanted a new start as much as the rest of them did. They had judged her by her husband and deemed her unworthy of their company. In much the same manner, they had done the same with Parry, only with the reverse result of trusting her by default. By spending only these last few hours with her, they had learned the truth. Cathy was just as she appeared; a mother of three children who loved and missed her husband; nothing more and nothing less. In that regard, she fit in with the rest of them very well indeed.

* * *

On the third floor of Hogwarts, in the currently empty Astronomy classroom.

"Which queen?"

"Which queen?" repeated Harry in exasperation. "_The_ Queen, Ron. _The Queen of England_." He gave Ron the full ten seconds it had taken himself to fully appreciate and comprehend what was said to him by Rufus just a few hours earlier.

...eight ...nine ...Ding! "You don't mean..." said Ron, awe filling his voice.

"Yes," said Harry. "Queen Elizabeth." He waited.

"The Queen of England?" asked Ron, trying to confirm what he now suspected.

"Yes," said Harry, a bit more forcefully. "Do you think we can move on from that, or would you like to repeat it a few more times?" He waited for an answer.

"The Queen of England," stated Ron. At least he wasn't asking anymore. Looking quickly back at Harry, he asked, "She wants us over for dinner?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "Tomorrow night at seven, and so help me, if you say '_Tomorrow night at seven?_', I'll hex you."

Ron, his most likely response suddenly taken from him, had to think for a moment. By this time, of course, he had managed to get past the shock and move on to more legitimate concerns. "Why?" he asked.

"Well," began Harry, "when Rufus discussed our thoughts on the purpose behind Kurt's capture with the Queen, she agreed to let McGonagall impersonate her during..."

"McGonagall impersonated the Queen?" asked Ron, interrupting. "They don't look at all alike." That much was obvious.

"They do _act_ alike, though," said Harry. "A swig or two of Polyjuice Potion took care of the rest. Anyway, she decided that she still needed to eat, so she invited Hermione and me, along with Rufus and Greta, to lunch, today."

"So that's where you were," said Ron. "We wondered what happened to you. Of course, the most obvious answer was that you were with Hermione. I guess you were, at that."

"Right," said Harry, moving on. "We were supposed to bring her up to date on the war with Voldemort. That didn't work out so well, though."

"Why not?" asked Ron.

"Well," said Harry, shrugging, "let's just say we weren't as focused as we could have been. Kept getting sidetracked. So she invited us all back tomorrow, including you and Honey. She wants more of a complete review of what we're doing to fight Voldemort and that's the only night she has free; in the near future, that is."

"I'm not sure if I can make it," said Ron, in total seriousness.

"Are you going to your own funeral?" asked Harry, "because that's about the only legitimate reason to turn down an invitation by..."

"We have a match tomorrow," stated Ron. "The season opener."

"That's at two o'clock, Ron," reminded Harry.

"You never know how long a match is going to take," countered Ron. "We might not be finished in time."

"No, Ron," stated Harry. "_You_ might not be finished in time, in which case Ginny would take over as team captain while you and Honey got ready."

"But..."

"No 'buts," said Harry. "If you can't finish the match in three hours; which I doubt, by the way, since we're playing Ravenclaw and they're rubbish this year; then you'll just have to miss the end."

"But..."

"You're not paying attention," stated Harry. "_The Queen comes first_. Maybe if Honey were giving birth..."

"Honey!" shouted Ron. "I have to tell Honey." He turned as if to leave on the spot.

"Hold it," ordered Harry. "We have to go to London and see a bloke about providing security for the people we rescued last night."

"You mean the people _you_ rescued," corrected Ron. Harry never seemed to want to take complete credit for anything, even when he deserved it. "Besides; why can't the elves do that?"

"Bloody hell," said Harry. "You've got to start making more staff meetings. I'll tell you while you change." With that, they headed back to Ron and Honey's rooms.

* * *

Walking back from the guest quarters at Ninebanks

"What did you think of Count L'Argenterie's suggestions?" asked the Dark Lord of his most loyal servant. They had just escorted the Count to his room for an after dinner nap. It was both the price, and reward, of a long life.

"Well, my Lord," replied Snape, thinking of the most advantageous answer, "the basic premise is undeniable. The best time to attack Potter, or any foe for that matter, is when they're at their weakest. If we could remove, or as the Count put it, negate the effectiveness of his allies, it would put us in a much better position." That seemed like a safe enough answer.

"True," replied his boss, "but you have reservations."

Snape thought he'd be caught with such a broad response. "The means to carry it all out on such an exacting schedule worries me, my Lord. It will take some planning to determine the proper order for the initial set-up, and then to be able to act at a moment's notice if necessary; not only on disabling our opponents, but beginning the main assault with little or no warning. There's a lot that could go wrong." He waited to see what rewards honesty had in store for him.

"We'll just have to make arrangements for several possibilities," replied Voldemort. "Attacks should be planned for any number of locations, along with tactics to deal with whatever forces might not have been neutralized, as circumstances dictate. Research various methods of disabling or eliminating his various minions, but don't act on anything until my Death Eaters are properly trained and proficient on their assignments. I don't want to tip our hand until victory is assured." He'd had quite enough defeats to last him a lifetime.

"Very well, my Lord," said Snape. "I'll begin..." He stooped to pick up a chocolate chip cookie that was lying on the floor.

As Snape dropped out of sight, five men came into Voldemort's view; standing still with their wands drawn. Their leader was Jake Airins; the leader of the second group of Death Eaters tasked with keeping Voldemort on his toes. He had guessed correctly on what would most likely make Snape duck out of the way on cue. Voldemort reached for his wand, but was too late. Two stunners and an Expelliarmus hit him full force. Fortunately for him, at least two of his men were poor shots. Nevertheless, his wand flew forward towards the attackers while the rest of him determined the composition of the wall behind. It was plaster over lath.

"Are you injured, Lord?" asked Snape, almost dropping his cookie before just putting it in his pocket.

"Huh?" asked Voldemort, a bit unsteadily, if not downright meekly. "Oh, I'm... I'm..." He struggled over to a short table and sat down.

"Our pardons, Master," said Airins, holding out Voldemort's wand. He hoped he wouldn't be its next victim.

"Huh?" asked Voldemort, again. Seeing the wand, he said "Thanks," softly and with confusion. "I must have dropped that somewhere." He tried to put it back in its sheath, but missed by a mile.

"Perhaps you'd like to lie down for a while, Master," suggested Snape. The Dark Lord had had his bell rung, and good.

"Oh," said Voldemort, still in that odd, softly disjointed voice. "Good idea." He looked around. "That couch looks comfy." He was looking at the one by the fireplace, but pointed towards the window.

"Of course, Lord," said Snape. Gesturing for one of the men to help him, he led Voldemort over to the indicated sofa and helped him lie down. After adjusting the cushion, Snape led the group to the side.

"I think that we've finished this exercise," he said. "Notify Colgate to cease any further plans he might have, as well."

"Yes, sir," replied Airins. He and his men went to make themselves scarce for awhile; perhaps _quite _awhile. Snape, on the other hand, gave a last look at his Master before leaving to find Lenny Welby, their medic. Then, he'd brew a strong headache-relieving potion. No; make that two. When his master regained consciousness, they'd probably both need one.

* * *

Hyde Park, near the east end of the Serpentine

The nearly empty section of Hyde Park, presided over by the statue of Little Nell, was the designated location for an unforeseen, yet highly anticipated meeting of lost sheep and their shepherds. It was chosen for its isolation as well as accessability to both muggle and wizarding folk. For all intents and purposes, there were no differences between the two, today.

Tonks and Paul O'Nestie, normally one of the Minister's personal guards, sat discreetly at opposite ends of the safety zone. Stomper and Millie were also on duty under their invisibility cloaks. It was very unlikely that Voldemort had discovered the fact or location of this meeting, but there was no sense in taking chances. They would remain observers unless something unexpected happened. With any luck, only great joy and happiness would be making appearances today.

Young Adrian's parents arrived first. Indeed, they had arrived over an hour before the designated time. Heather and Richard Kent were told that their son, missing for almost three weeks, had been found. For some reason, the authorities couldn't bring him home straightaway, but instead insisted on meeting first in this lonely spot in Hyde Park. This confused them, but the prospect of getting their son back removed any hesitation at doing as instructed.

The Kents had only waited a few minutes before they were joined by Nicole Parks. Her husband had passed on when Cindy was only twelve. The disappearance of her daughter, too, had nearly destroyed her. It had taken three trains, a bus and a cab fare she could ill-afford, but she, too, wouldn't miss this meeting if her life depended on it.

The last arrivals; before the lost children, that is, were Pietro and Francesca Giordano. They had never traveled to England, much less Hyde Park and had been guided by two members of the Italian Magical Consulate who were familiar with London. They would also translate, if necessary.

The cool November weather, approaching sixty degrees, but with a slightly more than gentle breeze, was just starting to feel uncomfortable to those waiting when the tell-tale popping of multiple apparitions caught their attention. Remus and Martha side-along apparated Cindy and Adrian, respectively, while Sophia, an accomplished apparator, herself, used the slightest guiding link possible to follow behind. They all walked towards the clearing.

It took only a moment for Mrs. Kent to recognize her missing son in the group emerging from under the trees and race towards him in perhaps her best time ever for the forty meter dash. The others converged a tad slower, perhaps, but still at a run. Remus and Martha allowed their group to surge ahead, not desiring to interfere in the slightest. Making eye contact with the Italian officials, they all made their way to a nearby bench to watch and wait.

As one would expect, there were plenty of hugs to go around. Only Nicole, who had Cindy all to herself, didn't need to share. The men with her didn't pay close enough attention for such things, but Martha noticed that both Cindy and Sophia kept an eye on Adrian. With both of his parents expressing their love in an undeniable manner, they glanced at each other and knew that their self-imposed duties had been passed on.

After the initial communal expressions of relief had passed, Remus and Martha stepped forward to begin the process of filling everyone in on exactly what had happened; the current arrangements and the initial plans for the future. Rossi, being the more experienced translator, took a seat next to Francesca while Costa lent his support to Pietro. Sophia, of course, remained securely between her parents.

"Good afternoon," began Remus. "I must say that it's very uplifting to see three families, torn apart in the most despicable manner possible, to reunite in happiness. What you might have already suspected, however, is that the recovery of your children has just begun. I wanted to speak with you all as a group because your children have forged a bond of mutual support that enabled them to survive. Removing them from each other too quickly wouldn't be good for anyone." He paused a moment as Adrian, having just had his greatest fear addressed and acknowledged, happily nodded his head in agreement.

"Now to begin," continued Remus, "I think that something that will only have a minor impact on everyone's recovery but which might be one of the hardest things for some of you to accept is the fact that magic is real. Both myself and the two gentlemen who accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Giordano, as well as Mr. Giordano, himself, are all wizards. Miss Martha Murphy," he indicated Martha, "along with Sophia and Mrs. Giordano are witches."

Naturally, there was a bit of an uproar, along with expressions of disbelief at these words, but as Cindy and Adrian both immediately confirmed the facts to their parents, it subsided quickly as the muggles waited for further explanation.

"As I said," continued Remus, "this information won't have much to do with their treatment, but you should be aware of it since they'll have to spend some time at the wizard hospital called St. Mungo's. Muggles; that's what we call non-magical people, can't enter without assistance. The same is true of Hogwarts; the main wizarding school in Great Britain. Hogwarts is one of the most protected sites, well, _anywhere_, I guess. Naturally, we wouldn't want anyone to be recaptured, so until we can make arrangements for everyone's continued safety, I'd like for Sophia, Cindy and Adrian, at least, to stay there when they aren't in therapy. Naturally, any of you who wished to join them would also be accommodated."

"Excuse me," said Richard Kent, politely. "Are you implying that those responsible for taking our children are still at large?"

"Yes," said Remus. "They were in the detention center of a powerful dark wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort. They, along with a few other prisoners, were rescued by Harry Potter. He's also a great wizard, but he fights for the side of good."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," continued Mr. Kent. "If you know where this Lord Whatever is, and you know what's he's been up to, why don't you just arrest the blighter?" He received nods from the other older muggles.

"Because," explained Remus, calmly, "we don't have the power to do so; not yet. Voldemort can kill or control almost any witch or wizard he comes across. He also has hundreds of men at his command. Any sort of an assault would leave dozens dead or wounded. We do intend to bring him down, one way or the other, but we aren't ready, yet."

"Then how did this other, ah, wizard," asked Mrs. Parks, hesitantly, "how did he rescue our children?"

Remus sighed. With a wan smile, he replied, "He went in alone. A woman; a widow and mother, herself, was captured yesterday afternoon. She lives at Hogwarts with some other widows under Harry's protection but had gone on a shopping trip with what should have been sufficient bodyguards. It turned out to be a trap and she was taken. The rest of us had determined, as I've mentioned, that it would be too dangerous to try to save her. We would have probably lost many good people in any sort of an attempt. Harry sort of agreed, at the time." Martha snorted. At Remus' look, she picked up the tale.

"I don't think there was ever any doubt that he was going," said Martha. "Harry's most admirable, yet annoying character traits are his loyalty and courage. He was going after Cathy and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it."

"So he didn't even know that Cindy and the others were there?" asked Nicole. "He was only after this other woman?"

"That's right," answered Martha. "I suppose this is a good time to explain why I'm here. A few months ago, I was the one in Voldemort's dungeon, along with two other girls. Harry's wife, Hermione, had been captured in an attempt to lure him into a trap." She smiled, grimly. "It worked too well. Harry popped into the cell and killed over twenty of the bastards in about half a second. He picked up Hermione and was probably getting ready to leave when he noticed the three of us. A normal wizard would be doing good to take just one person along when apparating. That's vanishing in one spot and appearing somewhere else, by the way. Anyway, he had the three of us hold onto him while he held his wife and we all popped out of there."

"So that's how he saved our children?" asked Mrs. Kent.

"No," said Remus. "After the first attack that Martha mentioned, Voldemort improved his defenses. I won't bore you with detailed explanations, but there is no magical way in and only a very special charm will get you out. Currently, no one but Harry knows exactly how he made it in, given the spells in place, but once inside, he found your children, along with three men, before he found Cathy. It seems that he had two of these special charms with him, although that doesn't really sound like Harry. Anyway, he used one of them to send your children and the others back to Hogwarts. He arrived with Cathy a short time later. From what I saw, he was in at least one fight and took at least one hit. He's okay, now, though."

"When can we meet him?" asked Mr. Kent. It was a question on everyone's mind, at the moment.

"Probably later today," replied Remus. "He's currently checking into a security force to protect both you and your children. Our regulars are busy fighting Lord Voldemort, himself, you see, so he's securing private guards for all of you."

There was a pause as everyone let this new information seep in. Martha took the opportunity to move on. "As Remus has mentioned, Harry's arranging for security, but it will likely take a day or so to set everything up. After talking with Cindy, Sophia and Adrian, and based on my own experience with the same sort of therapy, I think that by the time the new guards are ready to take over, they'll be ready to go home, at least at night. They still might want or need to meet for their sessions, but that'll just be a transportation issue by then. That's all assuming we've determined that it's safe by then."

"Excuse me," interrupted Luca Costa, the translator for Mr. Giordano, "but Pietro has a question. You've mentioned therapy and hospitals a couple times, now. Everyone seems to be in good health. He'd like to know why Sophia can't just come home with them right now." All of the parents seemed interested in the answer to this question. Nicole, though, held Cindy a little closer. Perhaps she had a guess that she hoped wasn't the truth.

Remus paused to collect his thoughts. He needed the best possible way to get the information out without causing undue heartache and concern. It wouldn't be easy. Once again, though, he was relieved of the duty by the expert.

"Before I answer that," said Martha, standing up, "I'd like to tell you that I stand before you today in good health and more or less emotionally stable and competent. I'm bringing this up because, as I've said before, I was in their place this past summer. I recovered and so will they, in time. You _must_ understand and believe that." She waited a moment to let that all sink in.

"Now," she continued, "Lord Voldemort, the evil wizard Remus has mentioned, needs to keep his lower level Death Eaters happy. They aren't the smartest bunch in the world and a lot of them were enchanted a bit to confuse them enough to get them to join in the first place. The simplest way to keep a bunch of young blokes happy and content is to provide them with easy sex."

There was an uproar as these words sank in. Richard Kent shouted, "No!" in shock while his wife clutched Adrian even more firmly as she wept in terror. The Gioranos both sprang to their feet, shouting their outrage at the revelation. Cindy's mother hardly moved, as she had suspected something along those lines from the beginning. The three children, having known their roles for weeks, found themselves trying to comfort their parents about the atrocities that had been perpetrated on them. With the repeated assurances of all of the non-family members coming in rapidly and from all sides, as well as a liberal smattering of calming spells, the majority of the parents regained enough control to hear the rest. Mr. Kent was still leaning towards grabbing his wife and son and taking them as far away as he could, but as he didn't know which way to run, he returned to his seat to listen.

"I'm sorry that I had to shock you like that," said Martha, "but there's really no easy way to say it. The important thing to remember, right now, is that they're all safe and out of danger."

"Be he's still out there," protested Heather Kent. "He'll come after Adrian, again." She led the way as all the other parents resumed their clinging to their offspring. The _offspring_, by the way, were beginning to become annoyed at this.

"That's actually quite unlikely," interjected Remus. "Martha's family was specifically targeted for punishment. Her parents were killed and she was taken. Nevertheless, there have been no further actions taken against her brother. Martha, of course, is safe since she currently works for Harry and resides at Hogwarts."

"Maybe it _is_ best if we all go there," suggested Mrs. Parks. "Although, didn't you say that other woman; the one who was captured, was also living there?"

"That's right," replied Remus. "Cathy was safe while at Hogwarts. We thought that she, along with the other widows, would be able to take the occasional shopping trip. We provided elf protection, but there was a spy in our midst who set her up. They knew when and where she would be and sent a dozen or so men. That's how Cathy was caught."

"I hope you've locked him up, at the least," commented Richard Kent. "The spy, that is."

"Her," corrected Remus, "and yes, we have. She's a real piece of work, but let's not get into that, please." He shook his head in disgust at the thought of Parry. "In general, it would be impractical for Voldemort to have that many men waiting around all the time on the off chance that someone might show up. Since most of you are muggles, you'd be shopping in muggle shops, anyway. They'd never be watched."

"I have a question," asked Nicole, meekly. "All this talk of therapy and guards and safe places to stay has me a bit worried."

"Worried?" asked Remus. "About what?"

"I'm just wondering about the cost of all of this," blurted out Nicole. "I don't really have any money, even to buy groceries for more than a day or so. You mentioned that Martha works for Harry. Would it be possible for me to earn our keep, too?"

Remus and Martha both were shocked at the question. With a glance at each other, Martha picked up the ball and said, "I work for Harry because he asked me for help; not to pay my way. None of the people under his protection are charged anything; quite the reverse, actually. He pays for all my therapy sessions as well as for the other girls rescued with me. Since our parents were killed and homes destroyed, he also provided us all with enough funds to live for up to a year, if necessary, before we'd need to go back to work. I'm sure he'll be doing the same for all of you, depending on your circumstances. Don't even concern yourselves about that."

"Well, we're not exactly wealthy," said Mr. Kent, "but we can certainly contribute to our own well being." Mr. Giordano, after hearing the translation signaled his agreement.

"I'm sure that any help you could offer will be appreciated," replied Remus, trying to avoid the impression that they would all be treated as children. "In fact, we have another muggle living there who's helping us out quite a bit. We can discuss your specific skills later, though. Right now, we need to see to the immediate needs of your children and yourselves." He wanted to get this meeting back on track.

"Of course," agreed Cindy. "I have a question concerning the need for ongoing protection, at least for Adrian and me. From what we'd discussed amongst ourselves during the days before Harry showed up, neither Adrian nor I were specifically sought out. We just happened to be alone and in the right place when those men were looking for someone to take. Sophia had a different path to that cell so perhaps she and her parents would need protection, but I think that we muggles wouldn't be in danger of being recaptured. I doubt if they even know where we live."

"That is most likely true," admitted Remus, "and we'd like nothing better than to just let you all go home and get on with your lives. However, until we're quite sure that you won't be pursued, it's in everyone's interest to stay as safe as possible. We'll have someone keep an eye out on all of your houses. If a week or so goes by without any visitors, we'll revisit the issue."

"Fair enough," agreed Richard Kent. "I'll call Jack at home and let him know I won't be in for awhile."

"I wish I could do that," remarked Nicole. "It's against company rules to take off without at least five working days notice." With a look at Cindy she added, "It's not much of a job. I can find another one quick enough."

"Let us worry about that," said Martha. "We'll talk to the right people at your company and square things away. You'll keep your job."

"But..." began Nicole.

"But nothing," said Martha, sternly. "Look. I've been there, too. Thirty days in Hell and my parents killed to boot. The three of them," she indicated Cindy, Sophia and Adrian, "are all still feeling the euphoria of being rescued and reunited with their families. In a day or so, the memories of the horrors they've endured will come back so powerfully they'll feel overwhelmed. Nightmares, too, if they're normal. Therapy and support from family will help, but it takes time to begin to heal. I was bloody well relieved that I didn't have to get up and go to work right away. Not having that pressure let me concentrate on my own recovery. The same should be true with all of you. Money and jobs are simply not in play. Let us worry about all of that and you just concentrate on the important things; like helping your children recover."

It was hard to argue with Martha. She had been there and done that, as they say. After a few more seconds of silence, Remus returned to the intent of this meeting. "Now," he said, checking his watch, "it sounds like everyone's more or less agreed that a week or so at Hogwarts would remove any question concerning safety. Adrian, Cindy and Sophia have their next group therapy session in just under half an hour. I'll call for some more help for transportation and then the parents can attend to closing up their houses for a week. Your guards will have plenty of muggle money for any expenses involved. When you're all finished, we'll collect the girls and Adrian and get you all settled in at Hogwarts."

"And then we'll finally get to meet this Harry Potter," added Mr. Kent. The other parents looked on just as eagerly.

"If you'd like," replied Martha. "Just one thing, though. He's uncomfortable with too much thanks or praise; it's just the way he is. A handshake and simple thank you would be best."

"After all he's done for us?" asked Mrs. Parks. "How could we let it go at that?"

"To pay him back," said Remus. "If you want to do something nice for Harry, just treat him like anyone else. It's what he desires the most from people." With these insightful words, they broke into their groups.

* * *

A short time later, at Gunderson's Machining and Small Engine Repair

"Grab the forklift, Vern," said George, popping his head through the door of the back shop. "A big lorry's around front. Blokes brought a shaft of some kind, or so he says. Bloody thing's twenty foot long if'n it's an inch."

"That was quick," muttered Vernon as he stepped around to the side shed. "I only ordered it this morning." Jumping on the forklift, he slid his tines into the jib rig before sputtering and clanking around to the front of the building. The back of the lorry was already opened and the driver seemed like he was in a hurry.

"Come along, mate," ordered the burly man, waving Vernon on. "Got a lotta stops to make." Vernon drove past the side of the lorry. 'ACME Supplies' was emblazoned in large black letters. Pulling around, he slipped the boom in just over the narrow crate. George and the driver had already secured the lifting strap underneath and it only took a moment to attach the hook. While they were doing that, Vernon glanced at some of the other items. There were crates or barrels, depending on the item, marked as containing wash tubs, giant rubber bands, axle grease, anvils, dehydrated boulders, giant mouse traps, invisible paint, hollow steel balls, jet propelled unicycles, dog sleds, triple strength battleship steel armor plating, weather balloons and bed springs.

"Go ahead and back up," directed the driver. Vernon raised the crate a foot to clear the lorry bed and withdrew the shaft.

With a slam, the driver shut the back doors, thrust a bill in Vernon's hand and ran around to jump into his seat. With a cloud of dust, he was gone. With George keeping the swinging to a minimum, the pair maneuvered the crate around back and set it on two sawhorses just to the left of the lathe. Vernon put the forklift away and came back to the disconcerting sight of George taking a closer look around _his_ workshop.

"What'cha got there, Vern?" asked George, looking at the assortment of sketches tacked to the wall over the vise.

"Oh," said Vernon, thinking of what he could say or omit without sounding suspicious, either way. "It's a new project I'm working on. Sort of an automatic, ah, thing that, moves...something. Not sure how to describe it, yet." That didn't go well.

"Not sure what it is or does," summarized George, grinning slyly, "but it'll do it by itself, eh?" He looked a bit closer at the sketches.

Vernon, wondering if he'd mistakenly put any key words such as 'pendulum' or 'Westminster' on any of the drawings, tried to change the subject. "It's part of a larger machine," he explained. "A, er... _friend_ needs a new one."

"Oh," said George, stepping back. He'd had to do similar work himself. "Say, Vern. The wife's been hintin' that she'd like to be visitin' her sis down in Roborough Down. It's a fair trip from here and I was wonderin' if you'd mind watching the place while we wus gone." He waited patiently, as if expecting a decision on the spot.

"Full time?" asked Vernon, apprehensively. "Gee, George; I don't know."

"I know you prefer comin' an goin' when ya please," said George. "I prefer it that way, myself, when I can swing it, but it'd only be for a week or so."

"A week or so?" repeated Vernon.

"No more'n a fortnight," assured George.

"Well, I'm not sure I'd be able..." began Vernon, unsurely.

"I'd really appreciate it," added George.

"Well..." replied Vernon.

"Done," said George, happily. "We'll leave Monday an be back afore'n ya know we're gone." He slapped Vernon on the back and made a quick retreat.

"Bloody hell," said Vernon to himself. "How can I work back here and keep an eye on the front end at the same time?" He twirled his mustache for three turns before the familiar sight of Karl, currently wiping down his tools, came into view. With a friendly voice, he said, "Say, Karl. How'd you like a change of pace?"

* * *

Author's note: More of a link chapter taking us to the newer plots but it gets the job done. Also, the more experienced readers will know that we're approaching Breakfast with Santa. That's an event that I organize to raise money for our local food pantry and the volunteers at the Madison Veteran's Hospital. What that means to you is probably only one chapter next month. It's for a good cause, though.

See you all next time.

Dad


	124. Chapter 124

Chapter 124 - Gryffindor's Eighth Man

November 28th, 1997

Later that afternoon.

"Bloody cold for ice cream, if you ask me," muttered Hermione. After the outdoor dinner, which Harry and Hermione had been fortunate enough to discover during what was supposed to be a quick drop-in on the new guests, the sun had began to set, taking with it most of the unseasonably warm air. Nevertheless, she continued to work on the surprisingly good pumpkin split that Florean Fortesque had placed before her. He had made several of these heretofore little known creations using one of Cathy's pies as the base ingredient.

Harry, who had already finished his turtle and caramel ice cream bar, had moved on to a cinnamon brownie sundae. Being sympathetic to his wife's discomfort, he said, "Let me take care of that." Pulling his wand, he first stuck his finger in his mouth before pointing it in the air. With the direction of the prevailing breeze determined, he summoned three small pillars of bedrock just a few yards in front of the courtyard wall to the west. Pointing his wand, he concentrated on them in sequence, thereby raising their temperatures to around seven hundred degrees. He finished by placing a secure fence around the lot of them so none of the children would be able to be burned while they cooled.

"That feels better," said Hermione as the infrared and convected warmth flowed over them.

"More than better," agreed Honey. "It's quite nice, if you ask me." She and Ron had unexpectedly dropped by after Ron had felt a _Disturbance in the Force_; namely a cornucopia of Fortesque desserts.

"You'll have to eat quicker, though," said Fortesque. "I don't have my enchanted bowls to keep things frozen."

"They won't have time to melt," prophesied Cindy. She had worked her way through the first half of a molten chocolate espresso cake.

"Mine's safe," agreed Laura, tossing down her fork onto her empty plate. Turning to Hermione, she said, "Not a bad change of pace after all of the hospital food, I'll bet."

"I agree," replied Hermione. "Of course, ice cream was one of my allowed desserts. It was the lying flat on my back for days that was the most frustrating part."

"I can imagine," agreed Georgia. "Although from what had happened to you, you're pretty lucky to be up and about so quickly." Hermione nodded but chose to take another bite in lieu of a verbal response.

"Excuse me," said Mrs. Parks, "but you've gotten me quite curious. I didn't know the walker was a recent addition. Since it seems you're on the mend, I hope it isn't too rude to ask what put you behind it."

"Not at all," said Hermione. "It's no secret, actually. The Daily Prophet's been running stories all week."

"The Daily Prophet?" asked Mr. Kent.

"That's the wizarding newspaper," explained Remus. "That reminds me, Harry. Mr. Lovegood would like an interview at some point."

"I talked to them days ago," said Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Not about the attack, Harry," she explained. "By now, Rita's probably heard about your most recent rescue mission from her sources and Linus probably wants your side to give a balanced report."

"I don't know what I could say," said Harry. "It's not like I'll tell him how I got in. Or out, for that matter."

"Well," said Ron, "you could mention things that Voldemort already knows. Perhaps the fact that Fortesque and Ollivander were rescued. That would bring some hope to the public that they might be back in business, soon. I wouldn't mention anything specific about the others, though. From what I've heard, their addresses aren't known by Voldemort. It wouldn't do to give any additional clues that could be used to track them."

"Wouldn't there be other sources that might have that information?" asked Mr. Kent. "The police, for instance. They knew where to contact us."

"I'm what you would call a police woman," said Tonks. "Harry and the Minister of Magic have a pretty good working relationship. Only the right people were brought in on this investigation. Harry's providing the lodging and security; not the Ministry, so nothing should slip out."

"About that," said Mrs. Parks, turning back to Harry. "I'm not sure how to ask this. It's been mentioned before that you work closely with the Minister of Magic, but you seem to be the one who calls a lot of the shots. When Mr. Lupin and Martha first told us about you and what you've done and this school and how this was where you lived and everything, I had the impression that you were one of the teachers or something. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't look all that old or... I mean, you aren't exactly... well..."

"He doesn't seem like what you'd imagined," said Hermione, nodding. "We get that a lot. As far as age goes, we're both still teenagers. Harry and I are both still students, although we're in our last year. He might surprise us with another inch or so, but this could be it for height. Still, I expect Harry'll fill out a bit more, in any event. When the time comes, a creative sculptor should make him look heroic enough, I'd expect. With magic, however, size doesn't really matter all that much."

"That's true enough," said Harry. Take the elves, for instance." He gestured towards the elves clearing away the used pitchers, plates and assorted silverware. "They can stand toe to toe with just about any wizard. That reminds me. Monty. Please..."

"Yes, Mr. Potter," said Monty, popping in. "What can I do for you?"

"Ron and I spoke with a Mr. Tutela a bit ago," began Harry, "about providing security for these people. He's agreed to do it, but he might not have enough men available for around the clock protection for a week or so. I know you said that the elves can't be doing that, anymore, but I was hoping we could make arrangements for any gaps in coverage until he can get up to speed."

Monty stood silently for a few seconds. Finally, he said, "The Others believe that you're making a reasonable attempt to meet their requirements. The Hogwarts Free Elves will be allowed to transfer Misses Parks and Giordano and Master Kent to and from St. Mungo's as well as guard them during their sessions. In any case, this would be difficult for any witch or wizard other than yourself. Hold on..." He paused, again, as if receiving new information. He smiled and continued with, "It will also not be necessary to find guards for the Giordano home in Italy. The Others feel that it is highly unlikely to be either known or attacked. Even so, two house elves live nearby and will be able to keep an eye out for trouble and pass word back here, if necessary."

"That's good," said Hermione. "I wonder when The Others decided to be more helpful."

"Since shortly before I arrived, Mistress Hermione," replied Monty. "Also, it isn't so much being more helpful as being less distant. For example, just now they informed Mr. Potter on what he _didn't_ need to worry about. It's sort of an anti-warning. It won't prevent trouble; just help in the better allocation of your limited resources."

"Are you saying that our homes _will_ be attacked?" asked Mr. Kent, alarmed.

"Not at all," replied Monty. "Such precise judgements are rare. As I said, it is believed that the risk to the Giordano home is very slight. The same is true of your homes. Of course, any of them could still be attacked, but it is not considered likely. Your homes are slightly more vulnerable since you live in England. It would be easier for Lord Voldemort to strike here than Italy and that makes it more likely that he will, although still unlikely overall."

"I see," said Mr. Kent. "I guess that puts us back to what we agreed; a week or so here just to see what happens and then heading home." He looked around to see if he had given the consensus evaluation.

"Exactly," said Remus. "If all goes well, your children should have finished the first, most intensive week of therapy by then. According to Martha, they'd move on to two or three times a week after that for some months."

"Right," said Mrs. Parks. "I'd like to thank you for that, too, Mr. Potter. Mr. Lupin mentioned that you'd take care of that expense. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to afford it, otherwise."

"It's not that much," said Harry, shrugging it off. "We have a fund that takes care of that sort of thing. Don't give it a second thought."

This was the final straw for Pietro Giordano. Once this last communication from Harry was translated, he exclaimed, _"Why does he keep doing this to us? Risking his life to save our daughter wasn't enough. Now he's providing protection and lodging for us all as well as paying for her treatment for what those evil men did to her and they tell us _Don't make too much of a deal about it. He doesn't like it._" _This was, of course, translated by Luca Costa, who had all he could do to contain his laughter while listening to the frustrated complaints of the excitable man. Pietro finished his rant with, "_I demand to be allowed to do something for Mr. Potter._"

"_Get in line_," muttered Hermione, in Italian. Then in English, as this would be relevant to all of their recent guests, she continued with, "Harry's saved pretty much everyone in school; some more than once. He's saved my life three times... no, make that four... let me think. Anyway, _several_ times. That doesn't even take into account the limbs he's replaced and the werewolves he's cured and who knows what else. If everyone expressed an appropriate amount of gratitude every time, he'd be swamped."

"It's not quite that bad," said an embarrassed Harry.

"Werewolves?" asked Mrs. Kent.

"It's nothing," said Harry. He didn't notice Remus rolling his eyes. Speaking directly to Mr. Giordano, he said, "I'll tell you what; if you and your wife would like to do something nice, I just love Italian food. Maybe you could work with the elves for dinner some evening and make an authentic meal."

"_An excellent idea, Mr. Potter," _replied Mrs. Giordano while Riccardo Rossi translated and her husband grinned toothily. _"We'll have a feast tomorrow night."_

"It can't be tomorrow," said Hermione. "We're having supper with the..." She paused, wondering if this next engagement should be kept secret.

"The Queen," finished Harry, as if Hermione had simply forgotten her name. "We had lunch today, but didn't finish discussing everything so she's invited us back for dinner, tomorrow." This time even Remus and Tonks were stunned, although they had both known about the lunch.

"It's not a state dinner or anything," added Hermione. "It'll be just the Queen and Prince Philip; Harry and me; Ron and Honey; Rufus and Minerva and Lord Cremshaw." She looked around. "Where is this Lord Cremshaw, by the way? I'd hoped to meet him." He hadn't joined them for the impromptu picnic.

Harry looked around, but it was Cathy who had the answer. "I saw him about an hour ago; talking with that nice young girl, Luna. I was in the middle of giving Tracy her afternoon feeding, you see, and the next time I looked, they were both gone."

"That's odd," said Harry. "It seems that everyone was in on this picnic. You'd think that they'd have made it back in time for dinner."

"Perhaps they'd made other arrangements," suggested Florean. He'd had years of experience watching people interact and had his suspicions, but didn't elaborate.

A Few Hours Later at Ninebanks.

It had taken those few hours to locate Jake Airins and his former assault team. They had finally been found helping out the lower level minions of the Dark Lord with the packing and preparations for the multi-destination move coming up in the morning. They were so hard at it, in fact, that they didn't even hear their names called the first or second time a concerted search was made. Eventually, though, someone asked, "Isn't that you?" and they were found out. With trepidation, they were led first to Snape, and then to the rooms of the Dark Lord, himself.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," said Snape, closing the door behind them. "You're not in trouble." This assurance was suspect at the least. If not to punish them for their overly successful attack, what purpose could this meeting have? They nervously took their seats.

Lord Voldemort wasted no time. "I'd like to discuss your ambush." Hendricks wasted no time, either, and promptly fainted.

"Enervate," snapped Snape.

When the terrified man regained his senses, he said, "I'm sorry, Master. I... I don't know what came over me." He quickly returned to his chair.

"None of you are in trouble," reiterated Voldemort before adding, "yet. Did you think I'd kill off some of my best men?" There was the briefest moment when a few of them automatically chuckled at the ridiculous suggestion before reality caught up to them and they all quickly shook their heads in agreement.

"Now," resumed Voldemort, "I'd like you to tell me about your plan. Your intentions, adjustments, last minute modifications. That sort of thing. On the surface, it seemed to work fairly well." That was an understatement and he had the knot on the back of his head to prove it.

"Well, Lord," began Airins, unsteadily, "we decided that an attack from a large crowd, such as the one that Colgate's team chose, would probably be successful due mainly to the large number of people being natural cover. Unfortunately, in a real situation, escape would be unlikely. Therefore, we wanted a plan that would be fairly private, but still allow the element of surprise. We studied your movements and it was noticed that Snape tended to discuss matters with you after meals. He also usually walked on your right side. Since he's slightly taller than you, he'd obscure your vision from that angle."

"That was an excellent basis for a plan, Airins," replied Voldemort. "Using the natural habits of your target would prevent suspicions better than if something unusual were introduced; but I seem to remember Severus dropping out of the firing lane at the last moment. How did you arrange that?"

"That was the only thing we needed to have happen on cue," replied Airins. "It, ah, started out as a bit of a joke. Rodgers had quipped that if we dropped a cookie on the floor, Snape would dive for it. Initially, we just laughed, but after a test run, we decided to go with it. Coming through a doorway was also important since only two, at most, could do so simultaneously. Your other guards, if they had joined you, wouldn't be in the way, you see. We also purposely dimmed the lights so that it would take a moment for your eyes to adjust."

Voldemort looked at Snape for quite a short while. When he said nothing, Snape asked, "Is there something the matter, Master?"

"The entire plan hinged on your inability to resist a cookie," stated Voldemort. "The five of them were standing on the other side of the room with their wands out, but all you saw was the bloody cookie. You stooped down; I watched; and the next thing I know, I'm waking up on the sofa."

"I'm sorry, Lord," said Airins. "I..."

"Don't be," said Voldemort. "The plan was brilliant. Everything happened when, where and how planned and we never suspected a thing until the spells were on the way. Airins; you're promoted to my Inner Circle of Death Eaters. You may keep this team but pick out an additional five or so men to work on the tasks I'll assign from time to time."

"Yes, Lord," said Airins, rising to his feet. "Thank you, Master." This had worked out better than he could have imagined.

"You men have also done well," said Voldemort to the rest of the group. "Please leave us now so that I can explain Airins' first assignment in detail."

The other men, also pleased at their own slight promotions to working directly for a Death Eater Lieutenant, albeit a newly minted one, briskly left the room.

"Your new challenge," said Voldemort, to Airins, "is not so very different from the last." He then proceeded to explain the assignment to Airins.

"Very good, Master," said Airins. "I'll begin immediately." He bowed and prepared to leave.

"Send in the Brothers Dim," said Voldemort. "I've a task for them, as well, that falls within their capabilities."

"Yes, Master," said Airins, closing the door behind him.

"Are you sure that our French siblings should be entrusted with such a vital project?" asked Snape.

"It's vital," agreed Voldemort, "but simple. Besides; it'll get them out of sight for a few weeks." That was always a good thing.

Much Later That Night

"Harry?" Apparently, Hermione thought she might have become a bit rusty in detecting the moment just before her husband was about to fall asleep.

"Huh? What?" She needn't have worried.

"Can I ask you a question?" Hermione looked fairly pensive as she waited for his reply.

"Uh, sure," replied Harry. "Unless it's on Potions. That's my worst subject."

"It wouldn't be," retorted Hermione, "if you'd just read the book and pay more attention in class."

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me what's on your mind," suggested Harry. "Unless you actually woke me up to talk about classwork."

"No," replied Hermione, exasperated in turn. "Forget it." She pulled the covers a bit higher and rolled over on her side.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, despite being the one who was roused and chastised about his study habits. "What did you want to talk about?"

Hermione didn't answer immediately. She waited until Harry began to situate himself into a more comfortable position before asking, "Do you remember when we had first arrived at St. Mungo's? This last time, that is."

"Hmm," said Harry, trying his best not to say anything too flippant. Failing, he replied, "You mean about a week ago? Just after we'd been attacked and you were dying right before my eyes? Yes, I have a vague memory of that."

Hermione, deciding to just get on with it, said, "Just before they started to work on me, we talked a bit. I thought I was going to die." That wasn't supposed to be the end of the sentence, but it was as far as she got before the memories of that moment overwhelmed her.

"You and me, both," agreed Harry, holding her a bit tighter.

"I thought I was going to die," repeated Hermione, "and I told you to move on. To find someone else."

"You said,_ Don't be alone. Find someone to love_," clarified Harry. "Is this your idea of pillow talk or was there some reason you needed to bring up the most painful moment of my life?"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, sincerely. "I've just been curious. Now that I'm back with you, safe and sound, I can't help but wonder."

"Wonder what?" asked Harry.

"Who would you have chosen?" asked Hermione, softly.

"Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!" hissed Reggie from his mat in front of the fire.

"I don't know," replied Harry. "I didn't have a chance to look through all of the applications."

"I'm serious, Harry," stated Hermione. "If I had actually died, who would you turn to?"

"Right away?" asked Harry. "Probably no one. It would take me a while to get over it, I'd expect."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking who'd be your date for my funeral," she said. "I meant after you had time to heal. I've given it a lot of thought and I think I have a good idea. I'm just wondering if you came up with the same person. If I died, who could you see spending the rest of your life with?"

Harry paused for an awkward three seconds before saying, "I don't know," a bit too quickly. "You're a lousy liar," replied Hermione, smiling. "You know very well." She waited for a few seconds to see if he'd own up to it before saying, "It's Luna, isn't it? You were thinking of her."

"How did you know?" asked Harry, astonished not only that Luna had indeed immediately come to mind, but that Hermione had guessed correctly. "I don't even know why I thought of her."

"Then let me explain," said Hermione, comfortingly. "Of all the girls you know, at least the ones you care about, she's probably the only one besides me that you could be truly certain loved you _just for you _and not for your power or fame or anything like that."

Harry thought about this and said, "I think you're right. Not even Ginny ever got completely away from the whole _Boy Who Lived _thing. It never seemed to impress Luna in the first place."

"I agree," said Hermione. "She'd also be good at keeping the wrong sort away from you. Of course the most important thing is that I like her, too. If anything happens to me, I'd approve of the two of you getting together." She backed up completely into his waiting arms.

"If she'd have me," added Harry, grabbing hold.

The Next Morning.

November 29th, 1997

"Ron," said Hermione.

"Umf?" replied Ron, having just put the first glorious three slices of bacon into his mouth.

"Why are you wearing your quidditch uniform?" she asked. "You're not thinking of playing, are you?"

"No," replied Ron, before taking his first swig of pumpkin juice. "But I'm still the coach and team captain."

"Oh," replied Hermione. "The match doesn't start for another six hours, does it?"

"It's to get in the mood," replied Ron. "I want to be up and focused when we take on Ravenclaw."

"You needed something to get in the mood?" asked Harry, a touch of incredulity in his tone. "I'm pretty sure that if the team stopped by on your wedding night and wanted to try a few plays, Honey would have been mighty lonely."

Ron tried to laugh at the hyperbole, but since everyone else, including his wife, merely nodded in agreement, he strategically changed the subject, but just a bit. "So when's the latest we need to leave for London?" He had begun to ask this of Harry but had shifted over to Hermione before finishing.

"Well," said Hermione, thinking, "Dinner's at seven, but I'm not sure if we're supposed to arrive early for cocktails." She looked up at the Headmistress and said, "I'll ask McGonagall what might be appropriate."

"Let me," said Harry, quickly rising to his feet.

"Sit down," ordered Hermione. A gap between the benches had been created to make it easier for her to swing her legs to the outside. Grabbing her walker, she purposely headed towards the dais. She had already gained some of her strength back, but the walker was still a necessity.

Harry watched for a moment before grimly scanning the room. He paused when he reached Zabini, who had a smirk on his face while quietly chatting with Longshanks. They had both been inaudibly laughing at what was being said until Longshanks had glanced at Harry. Noting Harry's expression, he lost his own mirth and quickly shushed Zabini. Harry maintained his gaze for just a few seconds longer before continuing his pass around the room.

"McGonagall said she'd like to talk with you for a moment," said Hermione, maneuvering around to retake her seat.

Harry helped stabilize her as she returned to her eating position before asking, "Me? What about?"

"I'd like for you..." began McGonagall, from directly behind him. Harry nearly capsized Hermione as he lurched to his feet.

"Bloody hell, Minerva," sputtered out Harry, surprised. "I... I mean Prof... Headmistress." Neither he, nor Hermione had noticed as she had decided to come down and speak with Harry at the Gryffindor table. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, insincerely. "I just wanted to ask if you'd like to announce the match, today. Kelly Appleby was scheduled to do so, but has a bad case of Scena Pavor."

"Announce the match?" repeated Harry.

"Yes," replied McGonagall. "I thought that since you're no longer on the team, having an experienced player announce might allow some greater insights on the tactics and maneuvers to the rest of the students."

"I see," said Harry. With a shrug, he asked, "Why not?", rhetorically.

"Excellent," said McGonagall. "I'll see you on top of the announcer's tower just before two o'clock." With that, she went back to her breakfast.

"This should be interesting," said Ginny, smirking as she kept adding to the tally of ways Harry could screw it up.

"I'll try to do a good job," said Harry. "I know all of the plays so it shouldn't be too bad."

"It isn't," concurred Luna. "I enjoyed my turn quite a bit."

"So did I," replied Harry, "what I heard of it." He had finished that match unconscious and flat on his back in the infirmary.

"You'll do fine, Harry," said Hermione. "Now, Minerva said that she and Rufus were planning on arriving around six. I think that sounds about right."

"I'll need about an hour or so to get ready," said Honey, inexplicably looking at her watch. "So I'll get started around four-thirty."

"I shouldn't take longer than fifteen minutes," said Ron, irritating both Honey and Hermione, who had decided that Honey's estimate was about right. "Let's see; the match starts at two..."

"Fifteen minutes?" asked Hermione. "You _are_ planning on taking a shower, aren't you?"

"I took a bath this morning," replied Ron. He reached for the muffins.

"You're taking another one, after the match," stated Honey. She chewed her toast while giving him a severe look.

"I suppose I might need one," admitted Ron. "So are you taking everyone or will we have elf support." He had directed this question to Harry, of course.

"A bit of both," said Harry. "I talked to Monty this morning and Stomper and Pounder will be with us under cloaks. They can probably take you and Honey. I'll bring Hermione, myself."

"What about Kurt and me?" asked Luna. "He's a muggle and I'm not able to apparate, yet."

"Kurt?" asked Harry. "Oh, you mean Lord..."

"Cremshaw," said Hermione. "I take it he invited you as his guest?"

"Yes," said Luna. "Shortly after Harry spoke with him, yesterday. We both thought it might be fun."

"I suppose it might be," agreed Ginny, her red hair taking on the slightest tinge of green. "I suppose you'll be wearing your sparkly dress, again?"

"Probably," said Luna. "Do you think it would be appropriate, Hermione?"

"Of course," said Hermione. "If you can't wear a jeweled dress in the company of the Queen, when could you wear it?"

"That's almost exactly what I thought, too," replied Luna.

"You and Kurt seem to be spending a lot of time together," commented Harry.

"We are," replied Luna. "We seem to have a lot in common."

"Like what?" asked Neville, conversationally.

"Like...," began Luna before stopping to think. "That's funny. Now that you ask, I can't think of a single thing; at least not this moment. It's odd because we've talked for hours on end." She sported a confused look as she pondered this.

"I'm sure you'll remember the next time you see him," said Hermione.

"Are you two coming to the match?" asked Ron.

"Probably," replied Luna. "We both like to dance."

"What?" asked pretty much everyone within earshot.

"That's something we have in common," explained Luna. "Kurt told me that sometimes the Queen has a small band play after dinner. We spent part of last night getting used to dancing with each other, just in case."

"I hadn't thought of that," said Hermione. "It's entirely possible, you know."

"I think she wanted to talk more than dance," replied Harry. He knew that Hermione would feel quite awkward being the only wallflower if the rest of them started cutting a rug.

"Where in the world did you go to practice dancing?" asked Ginny.

"Down in the fortress," said Luna. "Mr. Greyback's getting quite good on that trumpet."

"You were dancing to Fenrir's trumpet music?" asked Harry.

"He was playing along with some of those disks that play the other parts," explained Luna. "Some of it's quite peppy."

"Hmm," said Ginny. "Neville and I've been thinking of getting in some practice, too."

"We have?" asked Neville.

"Well, _I_ have," replied Ginny. "The Christmas Ball is coming up, after all."

"That's not the same kind of music," said Hermione. "It's too old fashioned for most young people."

"That's just because they haven't heard it," said Luna. "I found Bugle Call Rag to be quite exhilarating."

"Maybe we could ask him to play a few sets," said Harry. "You know; just to change things up."

"I'm sure there wouldn't be a problem with that," said Hermione. "After all, he's just a notorious murderer. Who'd have a problem with him performing in front of a room full of children?"

"Right," agreed Harry. "I'd run it by McGonagall, though, just to be sure."

"We can ask her tonight," suggested Honey.

Hermione sighed. She began to consider whether or not it might be herself who was the lunatic.

At a similar breakfast at Ninebanks.

"I would suggest the owner of the owlry in Hogsmeade, to start," suggested Snape. "He's best known for his avian abilities, but his knowledge of all creatures is unrivaled." He took a sip of tea before adding, "Of course, he doesn't work for free. Take plenty of gold."

"Ov course," muttered Michel, still quite upset about the nature of the mission.

"It would also be best if you used your natural disguise as Frenchmen," added Voldemort. "We wouldn't want him to suspect that this would be a local project."

"Qui," replied Camille, unenthusiastically picking at his waffles.

"Sacrebleu," burst out Michel, unable to contain himself. "Questioning merchants and killing animals. Zis is an inzult to use the likes of us in zuch an unimportant and tedious project." He stamped his size 8 boot on the floor for emphasis.

Camille, who had been just as upset all night, struck heroic pose number four and recited, "J'agree entirely, my brother. If ve air not to be allowed to lead men into battle, as was promised, pairhaps it iz time zat ve pursue another of our more profitabilital options." He turned dramatically as if to leave on the spot.

"I would not advise taking any course of action," stated Count L'Argenterie, "other than fulfilling your duty to my friend, Lord Voldemort. You have signed a contract for one year, complete with my assurances of your abilities as well as your obedience." He set his toast on his plate in case he needed to enforce his suggestion.

"But zis is zuch a menial task, Monsieur Comte," protested Michel, now pleading his case instead of declaring his intent.

"It is not a menial task," rebutted the Count. "Negating or eliminating the allies of your foe before engaging in battle is a sound and time-honored tactic."

"But vy air we making it so difficult," argued Camille. "Vy not just slaughter the beasts and be done?"

"Because it does not suit my plans to do so," snapped Lord Voldemort, at last angered to the point of rising to his feet. "I'm not in the habit of explaining my orders. I've allowed you this much time to realize that fact, but it seems to have been wasted. There shall be no further discussion on the subject. Will you obey me or not?" He had his hand on the hilt of his wand so that there could be no misinterpretation of his intentions should they refuse. At least he hoped there wouldn't be any misinterpretations. You never knew with these brothers.

Camille and Michel didn't immediately reply, but with the additional stare from their sponsor, they both nodded and returned to their seats.

"An excellent choice," said Voldemort, coldly. "You've finished your breakfasts. Be on your way." He'd had quite enough of the Frenchmen for the time being.

The brothers both rose. Camille seemed ready to reply but Michel held him back. Taking his mug in his hand, Michel downed the remainder of his grape juice in defiance before leading the way out of the room.

"I must apologize, my dear lord," said the Count. "They might not yet be as mature as I'd hoped. I do still believe that they could be formidable allies someday."

"Someday," replied the Dark Lord, "that might very well be true. They try my patience, though. It would serve them well to carry out their orders on this project quickly and competently. Otherwise..." He strummed his fingers on his wand for emphasis before picking up his orange.

Later that day, high above the Pitch.

"It's Corner to Boot. They're coming around the far corner and hoping Jameson doesn't notice Padma coming up behind Lester and Lobnock. Watch for a drop pass within a few more yards." Harry was doing an excellent job announcing the match; perhaps too good.

"There it comes. Patil is sweeping up from the low position on Jameson's left. She likes to feign an attempt at the near hoop but will really try for the middle. She's about to make her play. If Shepherd can get into position behind the goals, he'll be able to make a breakout after Jameson flips the quaffle over the rings."

"Harry," said McGonagall, shielding her voice from the enchanted microphone. "Perhaps you should stick with what's happened already. It might sound like you're suggesting plays to the Gryffindor team."

"Oh," replied Harry. "Sure." Stepping back up to the microphone, he continued. "Shepherd is racing along the upper tier of the stands. He flips the quaffle over to Waite who immediately passes it along to Dean. Dean's coming up to the rings but Hilliard is in position for a save. Dean does a fake throw at the middle hoop but instead passes back to Thomas. If only a beater could distract Hilliard, they might be able to make another score."

"Harry," warned McGonagall, sternly.

"It's just an observation," replied Harry. "Oh, no. Corner made a sneaky, I mean brilliant steal and is heading back towards the Gryffindor end. Goldstein nearly nails Ginny with a bludger leaving Boot undefended. Get over there, Archie!"

"Perhaps it was a mistake..." began McGonagall before being cut off by a near miss from the Ravenclaw seeker, Marietta Edgecombe. "Watch where you're bloody flying!"

"It's Corner to Patil to Boot and... score Ravenclaw," reported Harry, unenthusiastically. "Thirty to ten; Ravenclaw."

The game continued with a fairly lopsided back and forth culminating in a score of one-hundred-twenty to eighty; Ravenclaw, before some excitement rose from the crowd.

"Edgecombe is making a dive towards the base of the Ravenclaw short ring," shouted Harry. "Ginny's in pursuit. She must think that Marietta's seen the snitch, but it's still hiding behind the Hufflepuff tower." Ginny and Marietta both looked up at this and headed towards the indicated location.

"How do you know that?" asked McGonagall, no longer worried that the announcing was affecting the game.

"Experience," shrugged Harry. "Boot has the quaffle and is coming up behind Hilliard, probably thinking of a quick reverse throw." He paused a second. "That's what he did, alright. One-hundred-thirty to eighty; Ravenclaw." There were boos from the Gryffindors and cheers from the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. The Hufflepuffs were mixed.

"Helen's coming along the side with the quaffle," resumed Harry. "She...she passes directly to Padma, the traitor!" The Gryffindor team was by far the least experienced, due mostly to the loss of both Ron and Harry, and it showed as the pressure mounted.

"Patil scores, again, while Hilliard was picking his nose," intoned Harry, sarcastically. Although not supposed to take sides while announcing, his team was pulling further behind.

"That will be quite enough, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall. "Try to remain objective."

"Dean has the quaffle," said Harry, trying to sound all businesslike. "Helen's coming up behind him for a handoff but Dean isn't that stupid. No, wait. It looks like he is. Helen makes an attempt to pass on to Henry but Terry comes screaming between them and makes another play. Duck Dean!" Dean ducked just as the bludger passed over his head. The distraction allowed the Ravenclaw chasers to make another passing scissor run to the Gryffindor goal and within a few seconds, the score had changed again.

"Ginny had better catch the snitch soon," said Harry. "She has a good chance since Marietta just went by it." Marietta turned to look but saw nothing. Not seeing the golden orb herself, Ginny looked up towards Harry. He didn't say anything, but shook out his robes uncharacteristically. Ginny turned back to the location he had just mentioned and waited for Marietta to move on. Once she had the chance, she flew under the Slytherin stand's banner and was soon in hot pursuit of the snitch.

"Ginny's found the snitch!" shouted Harry. "She'll need some bludger cover if she's going to have a chance to get it before Edgecombe." Davies and Goldstein altered their courses accordingly. "Here comes Edgecombe. She's closing from above. Too bad the Cleansweep Nine can't pull out of a dive as effectively as the Firebolt." This was the only clue Ginny needed. Kicking in the auxiliary thatch in the head of her broom, she closed the gap to the snitch so fast that Edgecombe would have to steepen her angle to a dangerous degree to get there first. To her credit, she tried. Making first contact with the snitch, Marietta had only a half second to pull up. It wasn't enough, and Ginny deftly caught the golden prize on the first bounce.

"Ginny has the snitch!" shouted Harry. "Gryffindor wins!"

Author's Note: Probably needed another sentence but this is Breakfast with Santa week. I'll be busy so I decided to post.

Dad


	125. Chapter 125

Chapter 125 - The Count's Concerns

November 29th, 1997

Nearing the end of supper, in the dining hall of the new primary headquarters at Millbrex.

"I fail to see how any of these slight alterations could have anything to do with, well, _anything_." Lord Voldemort was perusing the text of the five modifications that Minister Scrimgeour had made to House Elf rules. Their high hopes upon receiving the knowledge of the existence of the executive orders were somewhat dimmed after the initial quick perusals. Nowhere were the rules for House Elf combat even mentioned.

"This one might have an effect on transportation," said Rookwood. "Pingleton works in the Department of Magical Travel. Perhaps he could give us a more detailed analysis."

"Agreed," replied Voldemort after just a brief amount of thought, "but make sure you adequately buy his discretion. I don't want news of our interest getting back to Potter."

"Of course, Lord," replied Rookwood. He then went back to studying the other regulations.

Count L'Argenterie watched the lack of activity with mild interest. He had joined in briefly during an earlier discussion on precautions to take before any further recreational prisoners were secured. Despite incurring no casualties during this latest rescue, rules would have to be established on the sorts of conversations that could be conducted when the prisoners were within earshot on the slight chance that they would someday become available to Potter. Neither the mystery of the elves nor the eavesdropping capacity of the prisoners were of particular interest to him, though. He did have a related train of thought that he wished to flesh out, but without the knowledge of Lord Voldemort. Deciding on his deception of the moment, he put it into action.

"If you will excuse me, my friend," said the Count, standing up, haltingly. "I believe that the stresses of traveling to this new location might have disturbed my digestive tract a bit more than would be desirable. I feel the need to retire early tonight, if you do not mind."

"I shall miss your counsel, Count," replied Voldemort, honestly, "but I'm sure it will be all the more profitable after you've properly rested."

"A pleasant evening to you, then," concluded the Count as he gestured for his second in command, a middle aged wizard named Jules Vendredi. "_Walk with me to my rooms, Jules_," he requested in his native French.

"_Yes, Henri_," obeyed Vendredi, rising from his chair. He took the offered arm of the Count and steadied him as they left the others. By established custom, he knew that some other orders awaited him when they were not surrounded by prying ears.

* * *

A short time later, just as the door to his suite made a satisfying click, Count L'Argenterie dispensed with the act and straightened up. Deftly drawing his wand, he made two quick slashes across the room. A flash each of purple and yellow signaled that they would neither be disturbed nor overheard.

"_I'm concerned, Jules_," began the Count. "_Something's changed since we last visited Mr. Voldemort. I have thought on this all day, but want your opinion, my friend." _He remained pensive as he lowered himself onto a chair next to a side table.

"_Of course, Henri," _replied Jules. _"Tell me your thoughts." _Jules walked over and sat in the chair opposite Count L'Argenterie.

"_I sense," _began the Count, "_a change in the general mood, and not for the better. The confidence and bravado from just a few weeks ago is now gone. It confused me at first, since it is more than would seem possible from just one unannounced visit. Since then, we've moved to a new location; several, in fact, and increased the protections and guards. Another such incident is unlikely, yet they still look over their shoulders at every sound or movement; nervous as old women. Even Lord Voldemort, himself, is on edge._"

"_Yes, Henri_," replied Jules. "_All because one man; a boy, really, found his way inside and made off with some prisoners. I didn't think that these, what do they call themselves... Death Eaters would be so easily frightened._"

"_They aren't, my friend,_" replied the Count. _"I mean they're frightened, but it isn't just because of this last episode. More likely, it merely pushed them over the edge they had been nearing for months. They have, after all, many good reasons to fear Mr. Potter. Dozens of their friends have died at his hands with many more captured. I, ah, acquired Michel's memory of the surprise attack last week. With no warning and a tremendous initial assault, Mr. Potter was able to resist death for several minutes. Once he regained his footing, he brushed aside the forces gathered against him like they were children._"

"_I've heard as much from the survivors,_" agreed Jules. "_I think you might be right, now that you've pointed it out. Many have likely lost their nerve and fear the next encounter with Mr. Potter._"

"_That is a problem that Lord Voldemort will need to address,_" added the Count. "_These new plans they are attempting; although they are well thought out and there is sound logic behind them, I feel there are few who anticipate success. Mr. Potter has them all expecting failure, despite their preparations. That is the first step to defeat."_

"_You suspect that Mr. Potter will actually win this war?" _asked Jules, with less incredulity than one might have suspected.

"_I suspect that he might, Jules," _replied the Count_. "Lord Voldemort is powerful and ruthless. He has many allies to help him. However, Mr. Potter is also powerful. From some of the reports I've read, he also doesn't seem to be any less willing to send his enemies to their graves than our host, when necessary. He is also a fast learner of the art of war. It is for this reason that I wish to learn more about this school boy. One thing that we know that is to our advantage is that he still attends the English wizarding school. You are as learned in the arts of stealth as I. Go there at once. Listen to what might be said. Learn all you can of him. Who are his friends and advisors? What are his abilities and limitations? What does he have planned for Lord Voldemort and those who support him? Most importantly, what are his ambitions for the future?_"

"_You fear he might be a danger to you?_" asked Jules.

"_No,_" replied the Count. "_I don't fear the boy. Not yet, at least. I doubt that Mr. Potter even knows I exist. But a boy grows into a man. The heart of the innocent and young can change. The day may come when Mr. Potter no longer is content with just England. I wish to know more of him; of the man he will become, before he matures and turns his eye eastward._"

"_In case action might be necessary,_" concluded Jules.

"_Yes, my friend,_" said the Count. "_A stitch in time might save a hundred, as they say. It might be prudent to remove the threat of Harry Potter... while we still can._"

* * *

Much later that same night

"Well, that was an, er, _interesting_ evening, wasn't it?" asked Honey as they all made their way towards the private entranceway of Windsor Castle.

"Did you really think so?" asked Lord Cremshaw as he and Luna, still quite lovely in her Chroma Crystal gown, led the way. He'd made this trip countless times, after all. "I thought the conversation became a bit repetitious after awhile."

"It started out wonderfully," replied Hermione, determined to have some good memories about this royal supper. "The duck à l'orange was a surprisingly delicious choice. I'd thought it went out of style years ago, but it was really quite good."

"Well, Queen Bess sort of when out of style years ago, too," said Kurt, "but she'll still surprise you when you least expect it."

"She certainly surprised me," said Harry, grumpily. "That reminds me, Rufus. Do you think you might run into Kingsley later on?"

"I might," replied Rufus.

"Give him a message for me, will you?" asked Harry. "Tell him I'm going to kill him."

Rufus laughed.. He had personally had a great time, sharing stories privately with Phil, as he began to address the Prince Consort after they'd both had a Brandy Alexander or five for dessert. Being a pair of old war horses with somewhat checkered lives, they had hit it off famously.

"I'm not kidding," added Harry, kidding. "Whatever possessed him to loan the Queen his 'Harry Potter Scrapbook' in the first place?"

"It was probably the most efficient way to fulfill her request," replied Hermione. She had figured this out almost immediately, but couldn't explain it to Harry, and quite probably Ron and Honey, while in the presence of Her Majesty. "She said she had asked Sir John for some background on you. I imagine that she'd wanted some independent corroborating evidence to back up what you'd already told her. Sir John apparently knew that Blair had a wizard in his employ. Bippity boppity boo; he hands over the scrapbook."

"It was like having your grandmother going through a box of photos," groused Harry. "_Oh, that must have been frightening, _and _How did you manage to get out of that one?_ I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

"You haven't?" asked Ron, incredulously. "I remember several times when..."

"It's just an expression, Ron," interrupted Harry.

"If it's any consolation," said Lord Cremshaw, "I think you've captured her perfectly."

"What?" asked Harry, wondering what was meant.

"When you were impersonating her, just now," explained Kurt. "You're a bit lower on the register, but you've got her style and inflection down cold. She loves that sort of thing. Maybe next time..."

"Do you _miss_ your old cell?" asked Harry. Luna giggled.

"We've survived," said McGonagall. "Personally, I couldn't be happier that she had you to focus on, Harry. After that nightmare of a lunch, yesterday..." She shuddered at how out of character she had been while impersonating the Queen.

When they reached the large double doors, Harry helped Hermione out of her borrowed wheelchair and back to her walker. Ron, despite his annoyance at having to use his personal one, remained in his chair, of course. They all then waited at the door while the guards, checking their list of authorized guests, located their names and noted that they were leaving. No one came in or out of Her Majesty's private residence without being accounted for.

After they had made it around the corner and out of sight of the exterior guards, Harry said, "Stomper. Pounder."

Pounder, still under the invisibility cloak, responded with, "What can Pounder and Stomper be being doing for Harry Potter?" He was the senior elf and would speak for them both.

"We're going back to Hogwarts," replied Harry. "You're staying with Rufus, I believe, Minerva?"

"That's right," said Minerva. "I'll floo back in the morning." She no longer showed any embarrassment at all concerning her sleeping arrangements. Although not officially asked, yet, Rufus had subconsciously given her a few hints that he was working up his courage. Perhaps now that he was sufficiently lubricated, he might pop the question.

"I just had a fabulous idea," said Kurt. "How would you all like to come over to Whackydaft for a nightcap?"

"Whacky what?" asked Harry.

"Whackydaft," repeated Kurt. "My place. Whackydaft Manor. It's not far." Luna smiled at the prospect of visiting Kurt's house.

"I'm game," said Harry, looking at his watch. It was still Saturday night, after all, if only for a bit longer.

"That probably wouldn't be a good idea," said Hermione. "For one thing, your servants are probably all in bed. We're also still checking to see if it's being watched, you know. In any event, Harry needs to get back."

"Why?" asked Harry. He was hoping for a more enjoyable and casual end to this evening.

"You have a werewolf waiting for you," reminded Hermione. At his frown, she said, "Maybe in a few days, when everything's more stable."

"Well, I suppose," replied Lord Cremshaw. "I'm sure you know best in these matters."

"Fine," said Harry. "Okay, Pounder; just like before. I'll take Hermione. You and Stomper can divide up the rest."

"Yes, Harry Potter," replied Pounder. After a final round of farewells to and from the eldest couple, they all popped away.

* * *

November 30th, 1997

The next morning, in the Great Hall

"So how did it go?" asked Ginny. She had managed to restrain her natural jealousy by determining, after careful consideration and analysis, that the question she had once most wanted to hear from Harry; namely 'Will you marry me?', had been replaced by another; namely 'Why don't you join us next time?'. Feigning genuine interest in their visits seemed the best route to that end.

"Don't ask," said Harry. He picked up a piece of toast, but had his continuing ill-temper maintained when the bulk of it fell to the table as he held onto the remaining corner piece.

"Why?" asked Neville, apparently unable to understand a direct request.

"You didn't say anything to upset the Queen, did you?" asked Ginny, in all seriousness.

"No," said Harry. He retrieved the remnants of his toast and put some strawberry jam on top.

"The Queen was quite taken by Harry," commented Honey. "Most of the evening was spent discussing his many adventures."

"So what's wrong with that?" asked Neville. "A lot of people are interested in that sort of thing."

"It wasn't that, so much," admitted Harry. "I think the problem was her source material was clippings from the Prophet. Half of the stories made me out to be some sort of a delusional prat while the later ones were so over-the-top that they were unbelievable."

"Oh," said Ginny, nodding her head. "I suppose if she only had that to go by, it might have been a bit awkward."

"You said it," agreed Hermione. "At least that's done with, for now. We need to get back to work."

"I take it that you weren't invited back?" asked Neville.

"No," replied Harry. He then had a thought and asked Hermione, "Would it be our turn to host? I mean, she's had us to both lunch and supper, now. Maybe we should have invited her over."

"Ordinarily," replied Hermione, thinking, "you'd be correct. However, I'm not sure what the rules are with the Queen. I mean our house in London is nice enough, but it's no palace."

"Right," agreed Harry. "She'd be used to castles. Maybe she could come here."

"She might," said Hermione, thoughtfully. "That might not be appropriate as a reciprocal invitation. It isn't _our_ castle, after all."

"Hmm," thought Harry. "That might be another point in favor of buying Prudhoe Castle. We could fix it up and..."

"Are you seriously suggesting that we buy and restore a broken down castle just so we can ask the Queen over for tea?" asked Hermione.

"Of course not," laughed Harry. He then caught Luna's eye and amended, "At least not just for that. I'm sure there are many advantages to owning a castle."

"Name three," challenged Ginny, smirking.

"We're not buying it," repeated Hermione with finality; or so she thought. "Now, it'll be at least another week before I can do some serious traveling, again. Naturally, you could check out some of the sites on your own, but I've been thinking about some other constructive uses for this down time. One thing that we should be able to handle with my limited mobility is a chat with the centaurs. We've put that off quite long enough, I think."

"True enough, I suppose," replied Harry. He took a bite of his toast while thinking. Finally looking at Hermione, he said, "I give up."

"We wanted to ask them," said Hermione, "to keep an eye out in the Forbidden Forest and notify us about any strangers or unusual happenings."

"That's right," said Harry, remembering now.

"I can't see them objecting to that," said Honey.

"You've never met them," replied Hermione. "Ron would be with us, of course." Turning to Harry, she asked, "Do you think we should ask Hagrid to come along?"

"Couldn't hurt," replied Harry. "When would you like to do it?"

"I think maybe this afternoon," suggested Hermione after giving it some thought. "Do it before we can forget about it, again."

"If Hagrid brings Kristy," added Ron, who had been considering the logistics of the meeting, "which I'd expect, having two of us in the air might also keep them from becoming too... impulsive."

"Good idea," said Harry. "She'd also be useful if those bloody spiders show up." Harry was in a much better position to resist the children of Aragog than during their last meeting, but the memory of hundreds of spiders chasing after them still plagued his less pleasant dreams.

'_Are they talking in some sort of a code?_' wondered Vendredi from his perch on one of the stone flower basins, nearby. He had thought he'd struck gold when he had detected the Muffliato Spell and slipped unnoticed within its boundaries. As it turned out, the talk of dinners with the Queen, buying castles, meetings with centaurs and the unaccountable mention of spiders had him more than a little confused. The reference to _checking out sites _and a house in London was more concrete, if a little too general in nature. It was all information, however, and he had been gathering quite a bit since his arrival. He had at first thought this assignment would take only a day or two, but he might make it a more extended visit, all things considered.

* * *

Meanwhile, at a secluded breakfast table at Millbrex.

"Where in the world do they get that many sheep?" asked Airins. Despite being the most recently promoted senior Death Eater, he was also the most open and talkative.

"I 'av no idea," replied Camille. "Ve 'ope to fine zis out today."

"Even so," added Snape, "properly preparing forty sheep per day before their transfer to Muck would take considerable coordination. You say Hornblower specified a full week of the first potion being necessary before the second would be effective?"

"Oui," replied Michel. "Zair is also a good chance zat zey would all become ill if ze virst potion ver zimply stopped vonce begun."

"Hmm," thought Voldemort. "Find out more details on that aspect. If it is a sufficiently fast, or even long lasting result, then attempting a quick change to the catalyst potion might not be entirely necessary."

"Oui," agreed Camille, noncommittally.

"Now," continued Voldemort, "if there isn't anything else..." He began to rise.

"There is one other item, Master," said Rookwood, tentatively. He sounded very unenthusiastic about his subject, but felt it should be mentioned.

Voldemort sat back down. "Well?" he asked.

"It's been brought to my attention," said Rookwood," that the new editor of the Daily Prophet, Linus Lovegood, is interested in talking with one of the men."

"Which one?" asked Snape.

"It sounds like anyone," replied Rookwood. "He just wanted to ask some general questions of an average Death Eater."

"You mean an actual interview?" asked Voldemort. "Why would he want that?" He took another sip from his cup, but was intrigued by the concept.

"I've no idea," replied Rookwood. "There was some sort of mention about a desire to give a balanced accounting of the philosophies of all sides in this war. It's possible that the entire message could have been corrupted, given the number of transfers. As I understand it, Lovegood has a friend who knows a friend who knows Carson who reported to me. It wasn't exactly a direct request."

"No," agreed Voldemort, "but if true, it might be useful to me. I'm not sure how, just yet, but it's a unique opportunity. What do you think, my friend?"

"On first reflection," said the Count, thinking, "I believe as do you that such an offer could lead to greater opportunities. I would not advise rushing to a final judgement, though. Men such as us normally work from the shadows. To step into the sunlight should only be attempted after further investigation. For example, some, ah, _clarification_ as to what might be discussed would be helpful."

"Naturally," agreed Voldemort. He sat back in his chair in thought. "There might be some risks and unanticipated reactions, but I can foresee gaining at least a few intelligent and unenchanted followers if my organization and goals are presented in the proper light. I'll think on this. I'd like everyone here to also give it some thought. See what you can come up with."

"Yes, Master," replied Rookwood, along with the mumbled agreements of the others.

As breakfast was finished, along with the meeting, they broke up. As they all made their way to their varied destinations, Augie asked Snape, "So what do you really think?"

"About going public?" asked Snape. He looked down on his friend. "I'm not sure, yet. Currently, I see two outcomes. We could have a good interview or two and come off looking like professionals with an alternative view of running the country."

"Or whomever we choose to send could blow it and cause damage beyond our darkest nightmares," finished Rookwood.

"I think you've got the picture," agreed Snape. The two men walked silently down the hallway, each pondering the consequences should the latter scenario play out.

* * *

That afternoon, in the Forbidden Forest.

"Stay a bit closer, Kristy," called Hagrid to his girl. "Yer nev'er know when this lot'll get quill happy." Kristy gave a short cry of disagreement, but pulled several yards closer, just the same. If there's one thing that almost everyone comes to realize, given the time and opportunity, it's that when it comes to the Forbidden Forest, it's best to heed Hagrid's advice.

Hermione, naturally, was still in no condition for a short walk on manicured lawns, much less a wintry woods overgrown with undergrowth. She sat in Honey's accustomed place; in front of Ron, on his carpet. Harry was trudging along as best he could behind the half-giant.

"Give them a call," said Harry, looking over his shoulder. He had seen nothing, but had an undefined sense that they were being watched.

"They aren't about, yet, 'arry," reassured Hagrid. "Don' spend alot're time in these parts. They'll see us abou' ten'er so minutes from now." He pushed over a small sapling that had the misfortune of being planted in his way.

"I wouldn't be so sure that they're all that far away," said Harry. He glanced all around, but after this second scan also revealed nothing, he shrugged and followed on.

'_That shouldn't be possible,_' thought Vendredi, doing his best to match his footfalls with those of the giant. He had gone on numerous such expeditions both with and without the Count. Never had their subjects noted their passing. It was supposed to be a foolproof method of concealment. Neither sensory nor magical means of detection would work. Yet here he was, having Potter turn and stare straight at him. He hadn't gone past that, though, so he continued to trail the group, albeit from a greater distance, eager to learn the substance of this meeting.

After the promised ten minutes, plus two, had passed, the group was brought up short by the sudden appearance of Bane. "That'll be far enough, humans," spat the hot-headed sentry. "You've been warned to stay out of our forest. Now you'll pay the price." He had his bow at the ready with an arrow already notched, but didn't raise it to aim, just yet.

"We aren't looking for trouble," said Harry. "I'd just like to talk with your leaders."

"Oh, you would, would you?" replied Bane. At a whistle, three other males trotted up, their bows also at hand.

"You'll be talking with them, all right," promised Ronan. He had arrived in time to hear Harry's request. "I doubt the subject will be what you were expecting, though." Those who had arrived with him laughed at the comment.

"There's no need'ta be tha' way, Ronan," said Hagrid, unimpressed. "Harry, 'ere jus wanted a word er two with the herd. Yer might even hear somethin' important."

"You have nothing to say of interest to the centaurs," said Bane, arrogantly. He glanced up as Kristy flew over. Turning to his compatriots, he added, "Keep an eye on the beast. If it comes in too close, kill it."

"I wouldn'a be a doin' tha, Bane," suggested Hagrid in a menacing voice; his crossbow already out and aimed directly at Bane. "Kristy won' be causin no trouble, lest yer be a startin' it first."

"Enough," said Harry, projecting both power and a growing impatience with his voice as he strode past his group into the midst of the centaurs. "I don't intend to ask anything more of you than would be in your own best interest. Let's go see Magorian. I'll say my piece and we'll go from there."

"A bit cocky, aren't you," commented Ronan, nonetheless impressed by Harry's fearlessness. That particular attribute was admired and respected by centaurs. "Very well. Follow close behind, but don't pull out your sticks unless you want trouble." Without waiting for a response, he walked back along the trail leading deeper into the forest.

It didn't take long to notice the difference in the forest as they entered centaur territory. The underbrush decreased by at least half. The lower branches had been eliminated except for the very largest specimens. Perhaps the most obvious of all, the temperature began to rise. Centaurs, although not prone to tolerance of magical folk, themselves, nevertheless benefitted from a sort of communal charm that tempered the cold, Scottish winters to something that they; and more especially their young, could withstand.

As they approached what could possibly be a large clearing, as far as could be seen through the remaining trees, Ronan held up his left hand and, looking back, said, "Wait here." Harry and his companions, along with the remaining centaur escort, complied. Seeing this, Ronan trotted on down the path.

"What's a centaur encampment like, Hagrid?" asked Hermione.

"Don' really know, me self," replied Hagrid. "I nev'r been this close before."

"And you never will again," added Bane. "Why Ronan saw fit to allow this is something he'll have to explain to Magorian, if he can."

"We shall see," said Harry, barely paying attention. He did his best to remain confident, but respectful. He really wasn't looking for a fight.

After about ten minutes passed; a time during which the sounds of movement and muffled voices increased markedly, by the way, Ronan and another centaur unfamiliar to the visitors, even Hagrid, approached.

"Laird Magorian has agreed to allow Harry Potter and his mate to enter," stated the new face. "The others will wait."

"My wife is recovering from a serious injury," explained Harry, "and is still too weak for lengthy walks on uneven ground."

"Then you should have left her behind," retorted Bane. He snorted at their perceived stupidity.

"We thought we had taken care of that," replied Hermione, softly, but emphatically, "by the use of the flying carpet."

"That is not of any concern to me," replied the new guy. "I have told you of Magorian's wishes. Will you enter or not?"

"I can make it, Harry," said Hermione, tapping Ron on his knee and indicating he should lower them both down nearer the ground.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry. "I don't want you overdoing things, you know." He stood next to her to assist with her disembarkation.

"Give me your hand," commanded Hermione. "It looks fairly smooth here." She took Harry's hand and stood up unsteadily as Ron also remained poised to catch her, if necessary. When responsibility for her safety had successfully been transferred over to Harry, Ron backed slightly away.

Although it had appeared almost playing field smooth, the slight irregularities of the grass covered path they were on took their toll on her wobbling legs. She held tightly onto Harry's arm as the two of them worked their way towards the clearing. Their shadow took a more circuitous route so as to get a better look at the centaur stronghold.

"There'd better be a place to sit," mumbled Hermione after only the first forty feet had been covered. Hermione hadn't gone very far without her walker since her return to Hogwarts and she was beginning to become seriously fatigued.

"I'll summon a chair when we get there," promised Harry. He stopped to let her catch her breath.

"Hurry up," ordered the unnamed centaur. "We haven't got all day."

"I told you that she was weak," replied Harry. "You should have let us use the carpet."

"Just like a human," commented Bane, coming up from behind. "Always think they know best."

"In this case," retorted Harry as he and Hermione passed the last tree before the clearing, "we do. Like it or not, we're not walking back."

"This is _our_ forest," spat Bane. "You'll do as you're told." Coming up beside Hermione, he gave her a shove towards where Magorian waited, some thirty yards further on.

Hermione stumbled forward a step before falling to her knees. Although she cried out a bit in pain, the sound of her voice was overshadowed by the crashing of Bane as he landed, hooves up, some twenty feet away. His bow broke under his weight as he rolled over onto his side.

"Don't do that again," warned Harry, "or you might get hurt."

Naturally, the centaurs within sight of all of this reached for their bows. They froze, unmagically, as Harry glanced around the clearing. They could sense, quite clearly, that any offensive action on their part would be unsuccessful, and probably more than a little painful. Seeing no further active danger, Harry helped his wife regain her feet.

'_How did he do that?_' thought Vendredi as he, too, felt the hidden power permeate the clearing.

"Air yer alright, 'arry?" shouted Hagrid from behind them.

"We're fine!" shouted Harry, still keeping the centaurs in sight. "Just a misunderstanding with Bane! It's all sorted out, now!"

Bane, more hurt than upset at the moment, pulled his legs underneath himself and struggled to his hooves. Holding his side, he looked like he wanted to say something, but a gesture from Magorian kept him silent.

The centaur leader walked over to Harry. No fear was visible, but Harry could sense some reservations about coming too close. Taking a closer look at Hermione, who still wore a grimace from the shock of her fall, he turned and said, "Bring something upon which the mare may sit."

"That won't be necessary," said Harry; pulling his wand and summoning a soft chair. Hermione didn't argue and was seated in short order.

"My apologies," said Magorian to Hermione. "We had heard you were injured, but it seems to have been more serious than reported."

"It would have had to be," replied Harry, absent-mindedly as he checked on Hermione's status after her fall. Turning to explain, he said, "She was very close to death. It used up all of her strength to survive, so she's still a bit weak, even now."

"I see," replied Magorian. "When it is time to leave, I will allow the man on the carpet to retrieve her."

"Thanks," said Harry, relieved; not only that Hermione wouldn't be subjected to the strain of another long walk, but that his unintentional, yet unavoidable confrontation with Bane hadn't caused an early termination of this visit.

"Now, as to the purpose of this meeting," continued Magorian, "I wish to make it clear from the beginning that the centaurs have no desire to interfere with what is fated to happen. You're wizard war is yours to fight, without our help."

"I understand that," said Harry. "We haven't come to recruit you to our cause. However, we do feel that there are some areas where cooperation or sharing of information would be mutually beneficial. For example, it's not in your normal territory, but did you know that there is an observation outpost on the east side of the mountain manned at all times by Death Eaters?"

Magorian looked around at the closest centaurs for reaction before replying, "I did not. How was it that you discovered them? The mountain is rarely traveled by wizards, if I'm not mistaken." He gave Harry the impression that more than idle curiosity prompted the question.

"We had found similar activities being performed elsewhere," answered Hermione, jumping in. "For example, the Death Eaters kept track of the whereabouts of the Minister of Magic using the same method we used to watch important locations from a distance. It seemed logical that they might have someplace near Hogwarts, as well, so we went looking for them."

Magorian nodded in agreement. "I see. So you wish for us to act as your scouts?" Although he kept his face expressionless, Harry could sense a level of annoyance in the question.

"Well, yes and no," said Harry, unsure as to which would be the correct answer. "Using the same example, we're unsure how long the spies have been on the mountain. I'd have liked to have known about them before they had the chance to discover and pass along anything important."

"We knew nothing about them," said Magorian. "If we were to patrol a large enough area to include the mountain, we'd be doing little else." The annoyance Harry felt before had escalated to irritation.

"We aren't asking you to do anything out of the ordinary," explained Hermione. "Basically, if you should come across something or someone out of the ordinary, we'd just like for you to let us know about it."

Magorian relaxed just a bit. For a while, he had suspected that these wizards had come to hire their help, like servants. "That might be arranged," said the centaur leader. "If we see something unusual, or happen upon information you might find useful, I wouldn't be opposed to sharing."

"Thank you. We'd be happy to do the same," agreed Harry. "Hagrid would probably be the natural choice to send along a message, either way."

"Of course," nodded Magorian, grudgingly. "I wish to restate that we are not allies in this wizard war. We will not fight for you, nor actively scout."

"I understand," replied Harry. "I appreciate the help you're willing to give. Perhaps other opportunities will present themselves to allow us to expand our cooperation, as neighbors."

"We aren't your neighbors," corrected Magorian, firmly. "It is possible that this sharing of information will be of use to my herd. If it should become otherwise, look to hear from us no more."

'_Fool,_' thought Vendredi, who had been listening while making a few notes on some of the unusual aspects of the centaur community. '_A wizard of this caliber makes an offer of mutual assistance and you act like you're doing him a favor by agreeing to the slightest of terms._' He knew that the day may come when the centaur king might regret his arrogant dismissal of Harry's help.

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Harry. "It would seem our business is complete. Thank you for allowing this meeting."

"Farewell, Harry Potter," replied Magorian. "May your road be smooth and safe and the warm breeze be at your back until you return safely to your den."

"Thanks," said Harry, trying to come up with something as lyrical for a reply. "Uh, live long and prosper."

Magorian gave a bewildered nod and turned back to his court as Hermione put her head in her hands. Looking up with an exasperated smirk, she said, "Well, that's about all we could have hoped for. Let's get back to the castle."

Harry bent down to give her a kiss before leaning back and calling out, "Hoy, Ron! Come and give Hermione a lift." He saw Ron acknowledge the summons and start on up. Looking around for a final time, Harry noticed Bane examining the pieces of his bow.

"Sorry about that," said Harry, taking a couple of steps closer. "Would you like me to fix that for you?"

"Oh, so now you're an expert on bows, are you?" replied the overly proud hunter. "I believe I've enough skill to mend it for myself." With a harumph, he trotted away.

"I think you can scratch Bane off of our Christmas card list," commented Harry.

"Ya think?" asked Hermione. "Still, we achieved our overall purpose. Death Eaters shouldn't be able to use this area of the Forbidden forest for any mischief." She sat back as Ron slid the front of the carpet under her bum.

"I'm not so sure," said Ron. "I'm assuming that you were the one who taught that centaur how to fly, Harry."

"He had it coming," replied Harry as he followed his companions back to Hagrid. "Git shoved Hermione to the ground."

"He did'na," protested Hagrid, despite knowing it must have been true.

"He did," repeated Hermione. "Although he's lucky Harry only overreacted a little. If that had been Zabini..."

"Shallow graves are easy enough to come by," said Harry, acknowledging that the results would have been different with the Slytherin.

'_Someone named Zabini is an enemy,_" noted Vendredi. He had to stop to write it down and then take a chance and jog a bit to catch up to the foursome.

"That's my point, I guess," said Ron. "Centaurs like to talk tough, but when it comes down to it, they're no match for wizards; at least a group of experienced ones."

"I'm assuming that's our side of the agreement," said Harry. "There's no way that they'd ever say it, but if a force larger than a scout or two ever did show up, they'd probably expect us to handle it."

"It's getting colder," said Hermione as they left the protection of the centaur collective. "Why don't you pop us back?"

"Sure," said Harry. "You'll be alright from here, right, Hagrid?"

"I've ne'er not been alright," replied Hagrid. "Kristy an me can take car'a tha lot." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

"Fine," said Harry. "We'll see you later, then." Harry helped Hermione off of the carpet and was adjusting his hold on her to take Ron's arm, too.

"I'll be okay," said Ron. "I fancy a flight with Kristy." With a wave, he flew up to join the dragon.

"Hold on," said Harry, just before popping off with Hermione.

"_Sacrebleu,_" muttered Vendredi. "_The centaurs are no threat, but this Hagrid and his dragon could be trouble if Henri is forced to deal with Harry Potter. Perhaps if he suspects he may have to act, it would be wise to do so before Mr. Potter gains even more allies._" He made several more notes before jogging back and reentering the castle.

Author's Note:

Sorry for the long delay. A lot has been happening. We raised $1000.00 for the local food pantry and over $700.00 for the veteran's hospital. Also, I was involved in having my mortgage adjusted so I can have a chance at saving my house. Also, this is probably the most re-written chapter ever but I think it will take me where I need to go. I hope the next ones will come quicker.

Dad


	126. Chapter 126

Chapter 126 - Someone to Watch Over Me

November 30th, 1997

Around four-thirty, near the edge of the lake

"It's just so strange," said Kurt. "There's no sun to speak of; the leaves have all fallen and are rustling around in what appears to be a fairly stiff breeze, but I'm warm as toast; at least when I stay close to you. It must be wonderful to be able to do magic."

"It has its uses," agreed Luna, smiling. She had used a warming charm, albeit one with the smallest possible diameter, and was comfortably snuggled in close to Kurt so it would envelop them both. They watched together as the giant squid swam lazily on the far end of the lake.

"Yes," agreed Kurt. "Our own personal summer afternoon, which you've kindly provided, is very nice, indeed." He hesitated.

"What's on your mind, Kurt?" asked Luna, raising her head off his shoulder and looking into his eyes.

"I just...," began Kurt, shaking his head. "I just don't understand something. With a wave of your wand, you can have anything you want. Nice weather. Good food. Fine clothes. Anything."

"That's not quite accurate," said Luna. "There are limits. This warming charm, for example, wouldn't help as much if it were really winter. Conjured food isn't nourishing. Conjured _anything_, for that matter, only lasts for a while."

"But last night, we heard stories of people being given new arms and legs," protested Kurt. "What good would it do if they didn't last?"

"Let me explain," explained Luna. "Most wizards or witches aren't at the same level as Harry. I personally know of only one other living wizard who's his equal. That would be Lord Voldemort; the one who captured you and the others. He's also able to conjure lasting things. There may be others, but it is a very rare ability that takes a lot of power."

"I guess that explains some of it," said Kurt. "I had been wondering; if _everyone_ could do _anything_, why would anyone have a real job?"

"No one can do everything," said Luna. "For the most part, people find the one or two areas that they're good at, or at least interested in, and get a job or start a business that's related."

"Like Mr. Ollivander and his wands," concluded Kurt, smiling in comprehension. "So what are you good at?"

"I do fairly well in most of my subjects," said Luna, humbly. She was actually quite good in the classroom.

"A Jane-of-all-trades, eh?" asked Kurt. "What sort of a job do you see in your future, then?"

"I'm not really sure," said Luna. "When we had our guidance sessions, last year, I was thinking of becoming a newspaper reporter or editor, like my father."

"That doesn't sound very magical," commented Kurt.

"It isn't, in and of itself," agreed Luna. "I do have the ability to tell when I'm being lied to, though. That would be helpful."

"I suppose it would," agreed Kurt. "I believe that you were instrumental in ratting out a spy with that ability, if I remember the tale correctly. Do you think you might go into that sort of business, full time?" Her exposure of the spy, Parry Caro, was one of the stories that had been told to the Queen during the previous night's visit.

"Not if I can help it," responded Luna. "I think by the time Harry's done with me, I'll have had my fill of that sort of thing."

"I suppose," agreed Kurt. "It doesn't really seem like your cup of tea."

"Not at all," replied Luna. "It is useful, though." Her mood had deteriorated noticeably with the subject.

"So what magical ability," asked Kurt, his smile returning along with an appropriate change of subject, "would have led to the opening of an ice cream shop?"

Luna laughed. "Mr. Fortesque is one of the cleverest people, magical or muggle, that I know," she said. "My father and I've been visiting his shop as long as I can remember. He'll make a few sickles with a sundae and then spend two hours discussing the most obscure bits of magical lore you can imagine. His ability, as well as his interest, is in history. Not the sort that any fool can look up in a book, mind you, but the kernel of truth hidden behind layers of myth and legend. He has a tremendous memory and can compare what one person is telling him with what three others said on the subject years earlier. You'd be surprised at the people I've seen come to his shop, just to talk with him and compare notes. I'd imagine that it was his knowledge of obscure magic that caused Voldemort to collect him, however wonderful his concoctions were."

"That's funny," said Kurt. "It sounds like he'd have a better understanding of magic that just about anyone, but he wouldn't have much of a need to use hardly any of it."

"Not to make ice cream, at least," agreed Luna. She shivered a bit as the spell started to fade. Kurt, noticing this, wrapped his borrowed cloak around her as they returned to their earlier activity of enjoying the view.

* * *

In the second floor, south courtyard walkway

"Now mind, all of you," said Ollivander to the growing group of students crowding around, "I'm a fully trained and experienced wand maker. None of you should be attempting anything like this." He pulled the edge of the borrowed potions knife gently down the length of the tip of Hermione's replacement wand. A very slight sliver of ash fell off the end to join the others. "The trick is to keep the thickness of the barrel the same at any particular point while tapering the wand in general." He held the wand up so they could all see clearly what they weren't supposed to be doing.

"So what does the added precision accomplish?" asked Ernie Macmillan.

"By keeping the thickness the same in all directions," explained Ollivander, "magic is absorbed uniformly. This prevents the spell from coming out with a spin to one side or the other. The taper, on the other hand, allows for the spell to absorb more magic as it progresses down the wand and thus accelerate upon its release."

"Would that explain my problems with consistency using the Point Me spell?" asked Hermione.

"It might," answered the wand maker. "If you placed the wand in your hand with a different rotation, you'd get a slightly different result." He gave her wand a final look before handing it back to her. "Try it now."

Jules Vendredi made a quick note about the need for a precise Pointez-Moi spell while Hermione took her wand and looked around for a target. Seeing Lavender Brown standing with the group of observers, she reached into her robes and pulled out an older, but still serviceable quill. Calling out, "Lavender. Could you hold this out in front of that pillar for me?" She gestured towards a four foot diameter giant carved in the Doric style.

"Uh, sure," said Lavender as the quill was passed over to her. She stood uncertainly where indicated.

"You might want to hold it by the tip," suggested Hermione. "I'll aim at the feather end."

The word 'aim' indicated Hermione's intent to the crowd and they all, except for Lavender, backed up a few steps. Lavender, for her part, hoped for two things. One; that Hermione was as good a shot as everyone thought she was, and two; that she didn't hold any hard feelings from when she had temporarily stolen Ron from her. Holding the quill out with trepidation, she turned her head and, mostly, closed her eyes.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! The non-verbal spells, spaced a half second apart, took the end off the quill an inch at a time before colliding with the column. Lavender only allowed the four shots because that was pretty much her limit before dropping the quill to the floor in fright. Both of her questions had been addressed. The answers were 'Yes, she was' and 'Yes, she did'.

"That's better than it was," said Hermione, looking at her wand in disapproval, "but it still pulls a bit to the right on the recoil. I also think it was only the bottom edge of the Diffindo that caught the quill from the second shot on." She handed the wand back to Ollivander.

"Let me take a look," said Ollivander, less exuberantly. He examined his competitor's wand closely to see what could be done to satisfy his obviously particular client. Vendredi added to his notebook.

"Neville," said Harry, fingering his own wand. "Would you mind holding that quill back up? I'd like..."

"Not bloody likely," said Neville, hiding behind Ginny.

"Don't be such a coward," chided Ginny. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Neville, along with three-quarters of those present, could think of any number of things that could qualify as 'worst', but Hermione overrode them all by stating, "Harry won't be trying that with someone holding the quill. He's likely to cause a few splinters to come flying from the granite and I wouldn't want anyone to get hit in the eye."

"Worry-wart," mumbled Harry. He then shrugged and commented, "She's probably right." He looked around, trying to find something safe with which to test his wand's aim.

"If you're wondering if your wand is up to specs, Mr. Potter," said Ollivander, not looking up from his work, "you needn't bother. All of _my_ wands were put through a rigorous alignment procedure well before they were placed on my shelves."

"Really?" asked Harry. "Oh, well. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." He resheathed his wand to the accompaniment of several groans of disappointment. Many of the lower years had perked up noticeably at the possibility of watching Harry Potter's wandwork at close range.

"Try it, again," said Ollivander, handing back Hermione's wand.

Hermione flicked it a couple of times. Looking around in vain for her former assistant, she glanced quickly about before asking, "Ginny. Would you mind..."

Ginny, who had the same problem as Lavender with regard to Hermione's jealous propensities, nevertheless stepped over and picked up the remains of the quill.

Snap! Snap! The bits of quill fell more uniformly and in smaller pieces than before.

"That's much better," said Hermione, glancing briefly at her wand before taking a couple more shots.

Harry stood next to his wife, watching with mild interest before deciding to make an observation.

"You do realize, don't you," he asked with an unusually loud and boisterous voice, "that performing magic in the corridors is against the rules?"

"What?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"Magic in the hallways," reiterated Harry. "You're not supposed to ..."

"I know that," interrupted Hermione. "I never suspected that _you_ knew it, though."

"Of course I do," said a scandalized Harry. "That was made abundantly clear during our first year orientation."

"Considering your record," replied Hermione, indicating to the unaccountably quiet and subdued Ginny that she should return to her task of holding up the quill, "I'm surprised that you'd even mention it." For some reason, Ginny remained motionless.

"Why I've never so much as contemplated breaking a school rule," gasped out an affronted Harry. "As a matter of fact, I pride myself on the fact that my record is as pure as ..."

"That's enough, Potter," said McGonagall, who had come up unseen by both Potters but only unsensed by Hermione.

"Oh, Headmistress," said Hermione, flustered. "I didn't know... I mean, how long have..."

"Long enough, Mrs. Potter," intoned McGonagall, gazing around severely at the quickly dispersing students.

"I tried to stop her, Headmistress," said Harry.

"I'm sure you did," replied McGonagall. She took a seat near the closest archway. "Perhaps one of you could explain exactly how this side trip into miscreancy came to be."

"I'm afraid it's probably my fault," admitted Ollivander. "Just a short while ago, in the library, Mrs. Potter and I were discussing the possibility of fine tuning her wand. We stepped out so as not to disturb the other students and I suggested this long hallway as a suitable place for tests."

"Quite understandable on your part, Garrick," replied McGonagall. "Fortunately for Mrs. Potter, I didn't stop by due to her lack of propriety."

"Lucky for you, rule breaker," said Harry.

"You're not fooling anyone, Harry," said Hermione.

"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Harry.

"Well, at least _that's_ back to normal," broke in McGonagall before Hermione could retort. "Would you mind, Garrick? I'd like to discuss a couple of, ah, _sensitive_ issues with Harry and Hermione."

"No problem, Minerva," replied Ollivander. Turning to Hermione, he said, "Try that out for a few days. If it still doesn't meet your needs, perhaps a visit to my workshop would be in order."

"I'm sure it will be fine, now," responded Hermione. "Thank you for adjusting it for me." With a nod, Ollivander left for his quarters. Vendredi, of course, moved up to take his place.

"I believe the rest of you should be able to find a more constructive use for your time," said McGonagall, addressing the few remaining stragglers; Ginny and Neville included.

"We'll see you later, then," said Ginny for the two of them. They, also, headed down the hallway.

"Shouldn't we go to your office?" asked Harry. Generally speaking, sensitive issues of the type to which they were accustomed, weren't discussed in the open.

"Not this time, Harry," said McGonagall. "Too many portraits listening in. One in particular seems to have a hard time dealing with reality."

"Reality?" asked Hermione. She had also thought that the hall was an odd choice for a meeting.

"We'll get to that," replied McGonagall. "First, I'd like to know how the visit with the centaur herd went."

"About as well as expected," replied Harry. "Their help will be minimal, but useful. They've agreed to let us know if anyone is about that shouldn't be. Unusual occurrences, as well."

"But no specific additional patrols," added Hermione. "They'll just let Hagrid know about anything that they come across."

"I see," said McGonagall. "Well, at least it sounds like they were more receptive than usual." Hermione and Harry gave each other a quick look before Hermione decided to clarify the misconception.

"In the beginning, they weren't quite as willing to talk as we'd have hoped, Minerva," she said. "The sentries, in particular, weren't very happy to see us."

"Mostly Bane acting tough," said Harry. "He stepped over the line when he shoved Hermione, though. Knocked her to the ground."

"Oh, my," said McGonagall, concerned. "Where should I send the flowers?"

"Harry didn't kill him," corrected Hermione, laughing softly, "but he did teach him a lesson."

"He needed one," added Harry. "He wasn't hurt, but his bow broke when he hit the ground." "I see," said McGonagall, putting the pieces together. "Well, it all turned out well, in the end."

"That's the important part," agreed Hermione.

"Now, if it isn't inconvenient, I'd like to move on to the sensitive part of the visit." McGonagall paused a second before saying, "Perhaps you could find something else to occupy your time, Harry."

"What?" asked Harry. He had already been occupied with a feeling that had him, once again, glancing around for eavesdroppers. Vendredi froze; averting his gaze and blanking his mind, as his teacher had instructed when trying to remain unnoticed.

"I think that both you and Albus might have the same problem with keeping the topic I intend to discuss with Hermione under wraps," explained Minerva. "I'd prefer to talk with just her."

"Oh," said Harry, surprised. "Well, I suppose I could... go... somewhere." He didn't really have any idea where to go and looked it. Like many married men, Harry had become accustomed to having a ready list of suggestions supplied to him as to what he could, or should, be doing.

"Maybe you could go check in with Martha," suggested Hermione, fulfilling that role.

"I could do that," agreed Harry. Just then, they heard first one, and then several screams of terror coming from the far side of the castle grounds.

"Or you could check on that," offered Hermione, calmly. The screams began to grow in volume and quantity.

"I think I'd better," said Harry. He listened for a few more seconds before determining the correct direction and apparated to his first guess.

Jules Vendredi, originally planning to hear the secret news of the Headmistress, decided to follow this new lead. He didn't have Harry's options, however, and was forced to use his feet.

* * *

Back by the lake

"What in the world is that?" exclaimed Kurt, pointing towards the huge winged beast. Another one followed in its wake.

"They're dragons," replied Luna, also watching as they flew overhead. Turning quickly towards him, she said, "Look in my eyes," with great urgency.

"What?" asked Kurt, confused. He fortunately did as he was told, if only by accident.

Once she had made the connection, Luna said, "There isn't anything to be afraid of, Kurt. Nothing will hurt you as long as you're with me."

Above them, the flying nightmares began to shriek out cries of mayhem and prepared to attack the castle. The vocalizations of terror from the students and staff could be heard, but as if from a great distance.

"What's going on?" asked Kurt. He was still in control of himself and could look if he chose, but for some reason, he knew he'd be better off gazing at Luna. The monsters gave voice to Death, again, but he noted it as a mere observation.

"The school has visitors," explained Luna, her voice cutting through the mounting screams of fright. "I'll explain more when I can, but I don't want you to be afraid. Just hold my hand and look at me until it passes."

Kurt, now feeling only the comfort, protection and serenity emanating from Luna, sighed and said, "I don't think that will be a problem."

* * *

Three hundred feet above Hogwarts

"Yoo hoo! Harry! Are you home, dear?" Sorcha called down, smiling brightly as she listened for a reply.

"I don't see how he could fit in one of those tiny tubes," commented Osgar, indicating the North Tower. He scanned the surrounding area for any signs of eighty-foot dragons.

"He isn't his normal self all the time," explained Sorcha, also looking about. "Some of the time he changes into a man so he can be with Hermione."

"I suppose," agreed Osgar. "Yo! Harry! Are you down there, lad?" They both listened.

"Oh, there they go with the screaming, again," said an annoyed Sorcha. "We're at least a couple of hundred feet above them, for goodness sake. What's put a bug in their ear?"

"Humans," grunted Osgar. "Naturally frighten easily, I hear."

"Here he comes," said Sorcha, brushing back her mane as Harry approached.

"Good afternoon, Sorcha," said Harry, pulling along side of them as they circled the castle. "Afternoon, Osgar. What brings you out this way?"

"We were sent," said Osgar. "The herd was beginning to wonder what became of its two newest members."

"Well," said Harry, "we've got a good excuse. Before we discuss it, though, it might be a good idea to go someplace a bit further from other people. The dragon enchantment, and all." He shrugged his wings towards Hogwarts where the extended conversation between three dragons had pushed a sizeable portion of the occupants into hysterics.

"That would be fine," said Sorcha, "but shouldn't we pick up Hermione, first?"

"No," said Harry. "She's traveled enough for one day. She also just told me, in about as many words, to get lost for awhile."

"Another pun?" asked Osgar, guessing at the likely cause for the banishment.

"It must have been a bad one," added Sorcha, nodding her head.

"There's no such thing as a bad pun," retorted Harry, "but I'll fill you both in when we've landed. I know of a meadow about three miles from here that's only used in the summer. We can chat there."

"Right-O," said Osgar as he and his wife followed Harry off to the north.

* * *

By the lake, again

"It's okay, now," said Luna after Harry and his friends flew off. "You can look away, if you want." She released her hold on his hand. He did not, however, release his hold on hers.

"Are there dozens of rose bushes in bloom, nearby?" asked Kurt.

"No, silly," answered Luna, smiling. "It's much too cold for that."

"Are there flocks of swans swimming across the water?" asked Kurt, also smiling.

"Of course not," replied a now giggling Luna.

"No rainbows, either, I suppose?" added Kurt.

"Not to speak of," answered Luna, softly.

"Then why should I want to look anywhere but in your eyes?" asked Kurt. "Your beautiful... beautiful..."

Luna's beautiful eyes flared wide for just a second before closing softly as she and Kurt shared their very first, most pleasurable and intimate kiss.

* * *

Three miles north and an hour later

"Now you remember what I said, Harry," said Sorcha as she and Osgar prepared to head back to Muck.

"I won't forget," said Harry, "but I still doubt that it would be practical."

"Practical be darned," replied Sorcha. "We won't be letting anything else be happening to our sweet Hermione, now will we?" She turned and glared at him in a very Molly-like manner.

"Not if I can help it," replied Harry, seriously, yet grudgingly. "Say hello to everyone for me. I'd expect that she'll be rested enough by next weekend to come and see the herd."

"We'll be expecting you," called back Osgar as he took off. Sorcha waved and followed her hubby towards the west.

"Bloody lunatics," muttered Harry after he transformed back into a man. He could easily imagine just how smoothly their visits to Diagon Alley would go with a dragon perched on every third rooftop. Shaking his head, he apparated back to his suite's sitting room.

"Bloody hell, Hedwig," exclaimed Harry, a moment after arriving. "You'd think you'd be used to that, by now." He waved his wand at the rug and restored it to its previous level of cleanliness.

"I'm surprised at her reaction, too," said Reggie, slithering on over and flicking his tongue in greeting, "but for a different reason. As the only prisoner with a private door; or in her case, a private, automatically opening window, you'd think she could avoid such an occurrence."

"Prisoner?" asked Harry. "What do you mean?"

"Well," explained Reggie, "unlike Mad-eye's house, this place is not particularly easy to get in or out of if you can't work a doorknob."

"So you're saying you'd like a pet door?" asked Harry.

"Well," replied Reggie, "I suppose that if your pet cat had a door, I could probably use it, too."

"I think that could be arranged," agreed Harry, glancing through the rooms, "in theory. You'd at least be able to expand your territory into the Gryffindor common room. I'm not so sure how you'd do in one of the hallways just after classes let out." He finished his search and determined that Hermione was still out and about.

"If I'm not mistaken," countered Reggie, "some sort of a bell is sounded in warning." He slithered onto the coat rack; his favorite perch.

"Still," said Harry, "I'd stick to having any extended expeditions during the early morning or late night." He walked over to the door of the suite and bent down low. Looking at Reggie, who had followed him, he asked, "Do you need to have room to wiggle or just a hole as big as you are?"

"I prefer a little elbow room," said Reggie, chuckling at his inappropriate term. "However, I think that anything the mop head could fit through would be plenty big enough for me."

"The mop head?" asked Harry, confused. "Oh, you mean Crookshanks. True enough, I suppose." He stood back up and went over to Hermione's chair. Picking up Crookshanks with a grunt, he set him on his feet. That didn't last one second before the cat lowered himself the two inches to his belly and tried to return to sleep.

"Just give me a minute, you dumb cat," muttered Harry, trying again. He held up the furry blob long enough to get a good idea on the width and height he'd need.

"To tell you the truth," said Reggie, "I don't think he'll make much use of the door. You should consider yourself lucky that the litter box is within his range."

"You've noticed that, have you?" asked Harry, putting Crookshanks back on his chair.

"It's kinda hard to miss," replied Reggie. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. If he wasn't as sedentary, I'd have competition for my dinner."

"You've caught mice or something since you've arrived?" asked Harry, interested.

"A couple," replied Reggie. "It might have been the lot in these rooms, though. I haven't seen one since."

"Well, let's put that door in, then," said Harry. "There might be a whole herd of them in the rest of Gryffindor Tower."

"Sounds yummy," said Reggie, slithering down to the floor to follow Harry to the door.

Harry pulled his wand and knelt down by the wall just to the left of the door hinges. Looking at Reggie, he said, "I think you're right about Crookshanks. Let's start out with a door big enough for you. If he shows any interest, I'll enlarge it."

"Fair enough," agreed Reggie. He watched as Harry put about a five inch diameter hole in the door and then covered it with a transfigured curtain of leather.

"Try that out," said Harry, standing back up.

Reggie approached the hole with cautious anticipation at having his territory expanded. Brushing the curtain out of his way with his nose, he slipped easily through the hole.

Harry was about to consider that this remodeling project had gone fairly well, but he didn't have enough time before his attention was caught by first one, and then several shrieks of terror. They were followed quite quickly by wand fire. Harry reached for the handle, but was brought up short by the sight of Reggie bursting through the hole; tail first.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" exclaimed the snake.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry, giving Reggie the once over.

"I... I think so," said a still shocked Reggie.

"I didn't know you could move in reverse," commented Harry.

"Neither did I," sputtered out Reggie, still agitated, but finally catching his breath. "What's the matter with those people?"

"They were probably just surprised to see you," replied Harry.

"I didn't say 'boo' or _anything_," said Reggie. "I think they're all just nutters."

"Some are," allowed Harry, nodding. "Most of them were probably just surprised. I think that they'll have calmed down by now. Why don't you climb on my shoulders and I'll introduce you to everyone?"

"Will you have your wand out?" asked Reggie, still not too interested in another round in the asylum.

"They won't hurt you if I'm there," promised Harry. He bent down with his hand low to the ground. After another couple of seconds to calm his nerves, Reggie took his place around Harry's neck. After a deep breath for himself, Harry opened the door and went out to introduce his newest friend.

* * *

Shortly after six o'clock, in the Great Hall

"Snakes don't cry," stated Hermione. She had heard the 'normal person' version of the events in the Gryffindor common room from several students. They had described a huge monster snake that appeared out of nowhere to terrorize everyone in the tower as it searched for prey. Now, she was listening to Harry's version.

"How do you know?" asked Harry. He continued to fill his plate as he stated, "Well, at the least, his feelings were hurt."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Hermione, honestly. She had become used to the serpent and knew he was harmless. "Perhaps now that they've met him, everyone will get back to normal."

"Perhaps," agreed Harry, "although it doesn't look like they're making much of an effort. He isn't even here, for Heaven's sake." Indeed, there was a good twenty foot gap between their usual group and the rest of the Gryffindors. Some of that was due to Ron and Honey deciding to eat dinner in their quarters. Honey had felt the need for a more comfortable chair than a wooden, backless bench.

"I think it was just a bad day all around for your non-human friends," said Ginny. She and Neville had missed the excitement in the common room, but she had certainly heard about it. "Everyone was still pretty shaken up by the dragons, you know. To have a snake suddenly appear probably didn't do much to calm them down."

"I don't know why not," said Harry. "Reggie's pretty laid back. He's also quite polite when first meeting someone. Always quick to offer his tail in greeting."

Jules Vendredi sat on his preferred perch, the closest stone flower basin, listening absentmindedly as this inane discussion was taking place. As it was easy to summarize this particular subject, 'Potter has a snake', he had more than enough time to review his other entries to see if anything additional should be added or clarified. After about ten or so minutes, however, his attention was caught by a pair of younger children walking over to the table.

"Excuse us, Luna," said the girl, coming up on Luna's left side. "Do you think you might have a moment when you could help us, again?" The boy, standing on Luna's right side, remained silent, but looked up hopefully.

"The same spell?" asked Luna, just finishing up her rather large piece of lemon pie.

"That's the one," answered the boy. "We thought we had it, but it's still giving us both some trouble." The two younger visitors were none other than John and Marcia; two of Draco's former tutorees. Although not receiving the workman's wages for the job, Luna had taken over responsibility for them as a tribute to Draco.

"I think we can take care of that in short order," she said. "Why don't the two of you get around to the other side, and I'll watch from over here." She took her seat. Turning to her friends as John and Marcia ran around the end of the table, she said, "John and Marcia are having a bit of trouble with a charm variant. I hope you don't mind if we work it out here since we have this large empty area."

"What charm is it?" asked Hermione. "We won't get soaked or anything, will we?" She pulled her bag a bit further away at the thought.

"No," replied Luna. "Maybe bounced off the ceiling, I suppose, if it all goes wrong. It's the Wingardium Leviosa charm." John and Marcia finished their journey around the end of the table and sat down across from Luna.

"Weren't you working on that a few days ago?" asked Harry, remembering when he had joined the three of them at the Hufflepuff table.

"Yes, sir," replied John, causing Harry to flinch at the 'sir'. "Marcia and I can do the regular charm, but we can't seem to make the object we're levitating spin or turn while it's in the air."

"I see," said Harry. He could sense that Hermione wanted to offer some help, but put his hand on her arm to stop her. This was Luna's class, after all.

"We'll practice with these," said Luna, holding up a pair of salt and pepper shakers. "As I've mentioned before, the rotation modifier is a bit tricky, but once you get the hang of it, it isn't all that hard. I'd expect that you'll be able to juggle these by the time we're done. We'll start with you, John. Warm up a bit by just raising one of them to my eye level."

John, who had apparently been hoping to go second, nevertheless obeyed Luna and pulled his wand out. With great concentration, augmented by his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, he managed to raise the salt shaker to about the right height.

"Very good," complimented Luna. "Now, slide your index finger along the spine of the wand like we practiced." The session went on with moderate success for several minutes with Marcia also getting her chances. Both students were able to get a fairly consistent axial rotation, but John was still having trouble getting adequate results when trying to shake out some salt.

"Luna seems to be in an especially good mood," whispered Hermione to Harry after she had finished her supper. Despite having to keep an eye on the dispensers, she had managed to notice the cheerier than usual demeanor of her younger friend. "She must really enjoy tutoring."

"It's possible," whispered back Harry, inadvertently spitting some crumbs on Hermione's robes. He finished his second dinner roll and glanced around for a likely dessert. "Personally, though, I think her mood is more related to her new boyfriend."

"It's a little of both," replied Luna, looking at the Potters.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry, embarrassed at having been caught gossiping. "We didn't know you could hear us."

"You weren't saying anything bad," said Luna, returning her attention to John, for a minute. After correcting his grip, she continued with, "As it turns out, I'm probably happiest, at the moment, that I didn't have to wait too long to find someone, er, compatible."

"Compatible?" asked Ginny. She had been eavesdropping on the lot of them.

"Kurt and I understand each other," explained Luna. "That's been a pretty rare experience for either of us."

"I can't disagree," said Hermione, "especially since you brought it up. I'm just surprised..." She broke off, abruptly. It was a bit too easy talking honestly with Luna, sometimes.

"Surprised that I've moved on from Draco so quickly?" asked Luna, knowingly. Hermione nodded her head in embarrassment.

"I haven't moved on," said Luna. "We were very much in love, as you know. I imagine that it will be quite some time, if ever, before I don't shed the occasional tear when I think of him. However, if there's one lesson I've learned from my mother, it's not to waste your life dwelling on what might have been. I still miss her, you see, and probably always will, but I've gone on to make friends, have fun and live my life. Losing Draco still hurts. I still shed my share of tears on the subject, in fact, but to think I should wait a year or so to date, again, just doesn't make sense. I was fortunate enough to meet someone I like and who likes me in just a few weeks. It could be years before the opportunity comes up, again. Should I turn down a chance for love just because it's 'too soon'?"

"Of course not, Luna," said Hermione. "From what I've seen, Kurt is a fine young man who, as you yourself said, is a lot like you. I can see where you'd be attracted to each other."

"But..." prompted Luna, knowing there was something left unsaid.

Hermione sighed. "It's none of my business," she said, "but I feel that I should mention that you're not of age in either the magical or muggle worlds. Kurt looks to be in his early twenties, so you might want to keep it fairly low key until at least your next birthday. I wouldn't want him to get into any trouble, is all."

"He's only nineteen," corrected Luna, "and I don't have any plans to escalate our relationship much further than it is now." She thought a moment and amended, "Not a whole lot further, at least."

"What would you consider..." began Ginny, a glint of mischief in her eye.

"Kurt's a lucky man," interrupted Harry in his 'Could we _please_ change the subject?' voice.

"More than he knows," added Neville. He knew only too well how far a willful lass could push even the most well-intentioned young man.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ginny, firing up, albeit playfully.

"Why don't we leave it there for tonight," said Luna to her youthful charges. She could sense that the conversation might begin to head into territory too mature for their twelve year old ears.

"Not just yet," countered John. "I think I was close, that time." He raised the shaker before attempting another mid-air manipulation.

"What is it?" asked Luna. She had sensed a sudden jolt in Hermione's level of concentration.

"What John said," she replied, incompletely. "It reminded me of what Voldemort said after he killed that woman pastor."

This was, technically, the change of subject that Harry had wished for, but he could have thought of any number of better topics for after dinner conversation. Nevertheless, he had no choice but to say, "What was that?"

"He said," said Hermione, bringing the suppressed memory out of its cage, "he said, I'd like to try one more time. I think I was close, this time."

Harry tried to bring the memory up, too, but didn't think of using the preparatory spell for removing memories to assist him, as had Hermione.

"I don't remember that part," said Harry, finally. "I suppose we can watch the memory, again."

By this time, of course, his personal biographer had noted the change of subject, as well. Leaning forward, he flipped to a new page to take notes.

"We thought he was replacing the..." began Hermione before noticing John and Marcia listening intently, as were Ginny, Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna. Sitting back, she said, "Perhaps we should discuss this in our office." She started to make the motions necessary for her to get up.

"In a bit," said Harry, holding her back. "I'd like to watch John and Marcia for a bit longer. Perhaps Luna and I can come up with some advice that will help them." He didn't want to do anything of the sort, of course, but he trusted his wife to figure that out and Luna to know he was lying. In both cases, his confidence was justified.

"I suppose it can wait," replied Hermione, leaning onto the table as if to rest while watching the practice session. In reality, of course, she wanted to get closer in to hear what Harry might say to Luna.

"Go ahead, then, Marcia," said Luna. She knew that Marcia had pretty much mastered the problematic spell and would leave her free to talk with Harry. She also leaned partway across the table.

Seeing that the players were in place, Harry leaned in and, pointing at the shaker for cover, he whispered, "Is there anyone behind me?"

Luna's eyes darted involuntarily to the space behind Harry before she controlled herself. Deciding how to perform a more thorough examination without detection, she turned towards Harry and said, "I'm not sure about that. I think that the pronunciation of the spell is less important than the actual wand movement." She was not, as it turned out, looking at Harry, but just over his left ear. She didn't see anything, but like Harry, it felt wrong, somehow. Turning it up, she got a little of a sense of being watched from that direction; a feeling that stopped abruptly.

"Maybe," she whispered. "I can't really tell, but it sort of feels that way."

"Can't you tell if someone's there?" whispered Hermione. Harry had already demonstrated a pretty good ability in that area.

"I don't know," answered Harry. "Off and on, I've had the feeling of being watched all day. It came back, again, when you started talking about Voldemort." With a shrug, he said, "I suppose it's time to find out, one way or the other."

With a casual move, Harry rose from the bench and straightened his robes; surreptitiously pulling his wand. "Accio invisibility cloak," he said, turning quickly to face the general direction of Vendredi.

Jules Vendredi, of course, didn't have an invisibility cloak, but he did know when the jig was up. Scrambling to make his escape, he leapt down from the flower basin, inadvertently knocking over a pair of small pots placed there the previous week by Petunia Dursley. Not stopping, he sprinted towards the doors.

"Stupify!" shouted Harry, firing some ten feet behind the fleeing man. Seeing the one escape route, he waved his hand towards the exit and the massive doors swung shut with a reverberating crash. A half second later, a thump was heard as one of the door bounced back an inch or so.

"Get down!" shouted Harry to the students at that end of the hall. They didn't need to be told twice.

"Aguamenti Dispersium," incanted Hammer Coldiron, who had rushed down after determining that Harry had found an invisible intruder in the hall. He knew how to deal with that. Anyone trying to get through the mist would be noticed.

Harry, seeing that Professor Coldiron had his side of the hall under control, ordered, "Everyone to the other end of the hall." Again, there was little argument before everyone complied.

"What have we got, Harry?" asked Coldiron. He didn't take his eyes off the sprinkles, but wanted some more information.

"Someone's here who shouldn't be," said Harry, peering all around. "He doesn't have an invisibility cloak, though. I couldn't hear him when he jumped down and ran, either."

"He hit that door pretty hard, though," said Coldiron. "Can you detect him?"

"A bit," said Harry. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. The other teachers, including McGonagall, had formed a line at the front of a very condensed assembly of the students. He had room to work. "He's still nearby, but he's trying to blend into the woodwork, again. Been following me all day."

"How do you want to work it?" asked Coldiron.

Harry smirked. "I know you won't give full points for it," he said, "but..." He concentrated for a second before blowing a small fireball towards the southeast corner. Less than a second later, he did the same a few feet to the right.

Vendredi, not particularly wishing to be incinerated, bolted in the only direction available to him. His shape was only outlined in the spray for a second but it was enough for Harry to get a hit with a bludgeoning charm. The end of the Slytherin table bounced over a half a foot. A wand appeared out of nowhere and clattered across the floor before rolling to a stop.

Coldiron rushed to the end of the table and immediately knelt down. Feeling all around, he quickly latched onto what turned out to be a boot. "Got him," he cried, adjusting his grip for a firmer hold. "You're right. There's no cloak."

"Must be a spell," surmised Harry. "Finite!" he shouted, sending a beam towards Vendredi. There was no effect.

"Finite!" repeated Harry, concentrating on maintaining the spell. After about five seconds, a ripping sound was heard and Coldiron was blown clear of his grip. The infiltration spell had been broken, but doing so had caused innumerable small bruises and cut all over Vendredi's body. The pain caused him to awaken, but not for long. A stupify spell from Coldiron put him out.

"Monty," said Harry.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?" replied Monty before noticing the state of affairs in the Great Hall. "I see," he said. A few moments later, four red-robed members of the Hogwarts Free Elves arrived.

"He'll need to be tended to by Madame Pomfrey," said Harry. "Full anti-apparition wards, of course. Then put him in a cell. He's pretty powerful, so maintain high security."

"Yes, Harry Potter," said Pounder, the senior Hogwarts Free Elf present. With two guards holding onto the prisoner and a third retrieving the wand, the four of them popped away.

"Thanks," said Harry to both Monty and Coldiron. "We'll interview him..." He looked at his watch. "How about eight o'clock."

"Sounds good," said Coldiron as Poppy tapped Harry on the shoulder.

"I think you can let us out, now," said the nurse, pointing at the doors.

"Oh, sure," said Harry. The oaken doors swung back to their accustomed place. "Sorry for making more work for you."

"I doubt it," said Poppy, brushing past him as she went to her hospital. "It didn't look like anything major, at least." She turned the corner and was gone.

"I suppose..." began Harry before having his thought driven from his mind as he turned around. Gazing at the multitude facing him, he asked, "I don't suppose you could all just forget you saw that, could you?"

Author's Note: Just a reminder for those of you with questions in your reviews (Yes, Cringo; I'm talking to you), you must be a registered user with private messaging enabled or I can't reply.


	127. Chapter 127

Chapter 127 - A Message with a Point

November 30th, 1997

"Prior Incantato," intoned Tonks from her chair in the office of the Fortress of Solitude.

'_Accio Pomme_,' uttered the wand.

"What's a pom?" asked Harry.

"It's French for 'apple'," explained Hermione. "Apparently, he was hungry the last time he used his wand."

"For French apples?" asked Ron. He had been summoned after Vendredi's capture, of course, but his wife had chosen to skip the interrogation.

"Probably not," answered Hermione. "I'd say he nicked one from a table when no one was looking."

"Why wouldn't he just say 'Accio Apple', then?" asked Harry.

"Because he's French," explained Hermione.

"I always thought the phrase was 'pomme de terre," offered Remus.

"That's French for potatoes," said Hermione. "It literally means 'apple of the earth'."

"Apple of the earth?" asked Ron. "Apples look _nothing_ like potatoes."

"Maybe French potatoes are different than English ones," suggested Tonks.

"Enough about the bloody apples," said Hermione, her growing annoyance becoming apparent. "Let's focus on what's important."

"Okay," said Harry, trying to calm his temperamental wife down a bit. "What did you have in mind? Poppy hasn't finished with him, after all."

"Perhaps I could make a suggestion," said Monty. They weren't aware when he had arrived, but as the Head Elf, he was authorized to represent them at meetings. He held up a small and well worn book.

"What's this?" asked Harry, taking the book from Monty's hands.

"It appears to be a notebook," replied Monty. "It was found a few minutes ago by the cleaning crew. As it was discovered near your usual dining places, I assumed that it probably belonged to the new prisoner."

"He's got terrible penmanship," said Harry after a cursory perusal of the notebook. "Can't make out much."

"Let me see," said Hermione, holding out her hand. Harry, after another few moments of unsuccessfully trying to decipher the notes, handed it over.

Hermione took only five seconds before giving Harry her 'You're such an idiot' look. "It's in French," she said, with a simultaneous eye roll. Flipping through the book, she said, "This book's been used for awhile. There are notes in here that have nothing to do with us."

"That's good news," said Coldiron. "It'll give us a better history of who he is and what he's usually involved with."

"Oh, we'll go through it," said Hermione, matter-of-factly. "Right now, though..." She had reached the end of the written notes and was backtracking, "I just want to know why he was... here. I've found the first entry concerning us."

"What did he find out?" asked Harry.

Hermione read the page before answering. "You're right, Harry," she said. "He arrived early this morning. We'll have to ask him how he got into the school." She reached for a quill, but Tonks had already dipped hers into an ink bottle.

"I've already alerted his guards," said Monty, "to be aware of a possible animangus transformation."

"That's the most likely method of entering Hogwarts without detection," agreed Tonks, nodding.

"We'll find out for sure, soon enough," said Ron. "Veritaserum should be effective on direct questions like that."

"It's on my list," said Tonks.

Reading on, Hermione said, "He mentions that we had supper with the Queen and how the stories in the Daily Prophet shouldn't be trusted, according to Harry." She turned the page. "Let's see... " She stopped, abruptly; slamming the book to the table while giving Harry a very annoyed, yet slightly amused look.

"What?" asked Harry, wondering what could have caused this reaction.

"He's noted that you're interested in purchasing Prudhoe Castle," she answered.

"How'd he find out about that?" asked Harry.

"You brought it up when we were trying to decide if it was proper to invite the Queen over for tea," answered Hermione.

"Oh, yeah," said Harry, remembering. Turning to Ron, he explained, "Wait 'til you see it. There's a huge walled off courtyard on the back half that looks large enough for a quidditch..."

"We're not buying it," stated Hermione; raising her voice, but lowering her expectations.

"Does it give any indication that he might have sent some of the information along, already?" asked Coldiron. "A line separating groups of passages, or something along those lines?"

Hermione flipped through the pages looking for any tale-tell signs. "I don't see anything," she answered, "although that's another straightforward question." Turning to Harry, she said, "Grab a vial of Veritaserum, Harry." Harry opened the cupboard behind him and grabbed a vial; putting it into his pocket.

"Let's see," continued Hermione. "He knows we're checking out various sites. That could be bad if he's already reported. He knows we have a house in London. No big deal. He noted that you don't seem to like spiders."

"Spiders?" asked Tonks.

"There are some big ones in the Forbidden Forest," explained Harry. "They tried to eat Ron and me when we were twelve."

"I can see having issues after that," said Coldiron, shrugging.

"You were right, Harry," said Hermione, continuing on. "He followed us when we went to see the centaurs."

"I knew it," said Harry, triumphantly.

"Now that you have a feel for it," asked Ron, "do you think you could tell if someone else was following you?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry. "Even Luna couldn't pick up on him with any certainty. I'll probably be more likely to cast a bludgeoning spell as a precaution if I get the feeling again, though ."

"Probably a good idea," said Remus. "Better safe than sorry."

"I suppose," said Hermione, moving quickly through the entries. "The dragons came to visit. You have a snake named Reggie. Oh, this is important. He ..." She stopped.

"What?" asked Harry. He could feel her apprehension, as well as indecision.

"We'll discuss it later," said Hermione. Deciding to give a brief explanation, she said, "Professor Coldiron isn't in the inner circle. Let's just say he overheard what I said before I caught myself. If that got back to Voldemort, he might be able to figure out what we're up to."

"I can leave," offered Coldiron. He understood the need to restrict sensitive information.

"That won't be necessary, Professor," said Hermione. "We'll need to do a little research before we can discuss that topic, anyway." She closed the book.

"Was that all?" asked Ron.

"Yes," said Hermione. "He was discovered and captured right after."

"Monty," said Harry. "How much longer will it take before Poppy's done with the prisoner?"

"He's putting on his clothes, now, Mr. Potter," replied Monty after a few moments of communion with his subordinates.

"Were they searched, first?" asked Hermione.

"Of course, Mistress Hermione," replied Monty. "It seemed to be a prudent precaution."

"We should question him inside a cell," said Remus. Explaining, he said, "He's already demonstrated that he can defeat some of the school's wards. Until we know the range of his capabilities, we should keep him as secure as possible."

"A good point," agreed Coldiron. "No sense taking unnecessary chances."

"Cell 25 is empty," said Hermione, after checking the chart on the wall. "Monty. Have them stun the prisoner when he's finished dressing and then bring him down."

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," replied Monty.

"Go and make the cell bigger, Harry," she ordered, shooing her husband off with a flick of her hand.

"Right-O," said Harry, jumping up and heading down to the cell area.

"You _do_ know that's illegal, don't you?" asked Coldiron.

"What?" asked Hermione. "That's ridiculous. Harry's done that dozens of times."

"He meant stunning a prisoner without cause," explained Tonks. "Some people frown on that sort of thing."

"Then it's a good thing they won't be hearing about it, _isn't it_?" stated Hermione, giving Coldiron _The Look._

Hammer stepped back a pace, involuntarily. Looking around, it didn't seem like anyone was planning on arguing the point, so he let it drop.

* * *

Not long after, Monty said, "We could start towards the cell, now. The prisoner will be arriving shortly." Without objection, he led the small troop out the door. The odd procession caught the attention of the prisoner in Cell 27 as they approached. Halting his playing, he turned their way to be prepared in case his cell was their destination.

It wasn't, of course, but that didn't stop Hermione from making a course change. Stepping next to his glass wall and activating the sound, she said, "I'd like for you to do us a favor."

"Sure," replied Greyback. "What's up?" He set his trumpet onto its holder.

"A new prisoner is coming down," explained Hermione. "Take a look and see if he's anyone you know."

"No problem," replied Greyback. Hermione nodded her thanks and headed on down the aisle.

As they approached Cell 25, they could see Harry as he finished with the adjustments. Changing the internal dimensions of a glass room without altering the outside tended to give everything a sort of reverse fish bowl effect. Harry had already summoned several straight-backed chairs which were clustered in the corner and was currently pushing back the north side wall, but from their perspective, it seemed more like he was doing the moon walk as the southern end slipped further behind him. Mercifully, he stopped when he noticed the others.

"I think I have it large enough," he said. Of course, no one heard him; the silencing charm still being active.

Hermione said, "Let's find our seats before the guest arrives." Deactivating the silencing charm, she turned to Luna and said, "You should probably wait out here. We aren't sure what he's capable of and you'd be safer."

"If you think so," agreed Luna, non-committally.

Hermione tapped her ring on the icon and popped ahead five feet, ending up in the cell. She moved forward as the rest, with the exception of Monty, queued up and did the same. They each grabbed a chair and formed a semi-circle around the bed; the most likely destination for their guest.

When Pounder and his team arrived, with Vendredi suspended between them, Monty ordered, "Pounder and Flakey; take the prisoner into the cell. Holly and Saucy; remain on the outside with Mistress Luna."

Coldiron, a trained observer, did just that and filed away a question to be asked later. For now, he was sufficiently occupied with the odd detention area since he had only been in the Fortress of Solitude a few times and then, only for meetings. Using the standard auror procedure, he stepped back to the far corner; his hand resting on the hilt of his wand, as the elves brought in the prisoner. From here, he could see everything and have time to react if the situation turned sour.

Vendredi was levitated onto the bed. Harry asked, "Does anyone have any concerns before I revive him?"

"Give me a second," said Hermione. She pulled her wand. If this man had watched her checking it out with Ollivander, he might not want to push his luck with her. "Okay."

"Enervate," said Harry, casting a powerful version of the spell.

"Oh, ma tête," moaned Vendredi, holding his hands to his head. A moment later, he exclaimed, "Où suis-je?"

"Vous êtes dans une cellule dans la Forteresse de Solitude," explained Hermione.

"What did he say?" asked Ron. He had beaten Harry to the punch by a half of a second.

"He indicated that his head hurt," said Hermione, "and then he asked where he was."

"What did you tell him?" asked Harry.

Hermione sighed. "Really, Harry," she answered. "Forteresse de Solitude doesn't sound all that different from Fortress of Solitude, does it?"

"I suppose it doesn't," conceded Harry.

"Shouldn't you give him something for his head?" asked Luna.

"I suppose so," said Hermione. She nodded at Monty. A moment later, Saucy, one of the newer replacement elves standing beside Luna, headed down to the office to retrieve the potion.

"Nous vous obtenir des médicaments pour votre tête," explained Hermione.

"Merci," said Vendredi.

"What's the matter with him?" asked Harry. "We haven't even done anything, yet."

"He said 'thank you'," explained Hermione, closing her eyes in annoyance. She gave another meaningful look at Monty. A moment later, Saucy; who had just started back with the pain relieving potion, returned to the office to get another one to treat Hermione's expected headache.

Turning back to the prisoner, Hermione asked, "Parlez-vous anglais?"

"Oui," replied Vendredi, nodding.

"Parfaitement?" probed Hermione.

"I get by," answered Vendredi, with a half of a smirk.

"That sounded almost like English," said Tonks.

"It _was_ English," replied an exasperated Hermione. Where was that bloody potion?

"Excellent," said Harry, taking a seat. The others followed his example with the exception of Coldiron who remained in the corner. By this time, Saucy had returned with the potions and transferred them to the inside.

"Drink this," said Hermione, handing the pain relieving potion to Vendredi. "It'll take care of your headache."

After a quick glance to confirm the contents, Vendredi downed the potion. Feeling better, he set the empty flask on the table and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, before we start on the more difficult questions," began Hermione, "let's get to know each other a bit. From your notebook, it seems you know both Harry, Ron and myself. What's your name?"

Vendredi paused for a moment before deciding that giving the information freely would give the impression of cooperation and might ward off harsher measures as the day progressed. "My name is Jules Vendredi." Tonks wrote this down and showed her parchment to Vendredi for comment.

"There is no 'e' at the end," he corrected. Tonks crossed out the extra letter.

"How long have you been working for Voldemort?" asked Hermione, using the Dark Lord's name to determine if Vendredi had been subjected to the loyalty spell.

"I don't work for Monsieur Voldemort," replied Vendredi, before thinking that going with their assumption might have been wiser.

"You don't?" asked Harry, surprised. "They why were you spying on us?"

Vendredi didn't answer, but adequately expressed his intentions to remain quiet on this and similar questions by crossing his arms and staring straight ahead.

"I suppose we should just proceed with the Veritaserum, then," said Hermione, getting the general idea. She looked towards Harry to indicate he should remove the bottle from his robes.

"He isn't concerned," said Luna, unexpectedly offering a comment. She had been observing the disdainful way Vendredi had reacted when he heard of the potion.

"He isn't?" asked Hermione. "Well, it doesn't really matter, I suppose. We'll go with the full five drops, then." She didn't like to use that much since it was flirting with the level that might cause permanent damage.

"Seven," corrected Harry, pulling the stopper.

"We can't use that much," said Remus. "It would be too dangerous for him."

Harry viewed Vendredi closely. "I'm getting the impression that he's had practice with this sort of thing," he said. "I'd wager that the normal maximum of five drops wouldn't be effective." Vendredi remained silent.

"If it isn't," countered Hermione, "then we can increase the dosage in a few days."

"Any comments?" asked Harry of Vendredi. "You could avoid the danger entirely by just cooperating. As you've noticed, Luna," he indicated the witch on the outside of the cell, "can tell if you're lying or concealing something, anyway. You might as well just answer the questions."

Vendredi wasn't sure of what to do. He knew that freely given answers were of more use than the simple replies possible through Veritaserum, but he had never practiced with as much as seven drops. The young girl was correct that five would have been of no use, but dare he attempt forty percent more than that? In the end, he decided to remain silent and trust to luck and skill.

When it became apparent that they'd be doing things the hard way, Harry petrified the bulk of Vendredi before having Remus hold his head back while he applied the seven drops of Veritaserum.

Waiting a few seconds for the potion to take effect, Hermione asked, "You say you don't work for Voldemort. Are you spying for someone else?"

"Yes," replied Vendredi. He had been correct in his assumption that he couldn't resist the large dose.

"Who do you work for, then?" asked Hermione.

"Henri L'Argenterie," replied Vendredi.

"Count L'Argenterie?" asked Coldiron, suddenly more interested.

"You know him?" asked Harry.

"We know _of_ him," clarified Tonks. "He used to be a lot like Voldemort, but in Europe. I'd expect he's getting a bit older now, though."

"Some of the auror analysts think he's retired," said Coldiron. "It would seem that they're wrong."

"Has this Count L'Argentina set up shop here in England?" asked Harry.

"No," replied Vendredi.

"They why did he send you to spy on us?" asked Harry.

"He is concerned," replied Vendredi, "that if you defeat Lord Voldemort, you might one day become a problem for him."

"What does he know about my fight with Voldemort?" asked Harry.

"Much," said Vendredi. "He has been advising Lord Voldemort on ways to combat you."

"Really?" asked Hermione. Voldemort asked someone for help?

"Yes," replied Vendredi.

"What sort of help has he been giving?" asked Ron.

"He has secured the services of a pair of brothers to assist him" said Vendredi. "He has helped with improving the security around Lord Voldemort's strongholds. He has offered advice on a number of ongoing projects to diminish your available allies. He has disclosed the spells he determined were used during your last visit to the stronghold at Ninebanks."

"The memory spells?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," replied Vendredi.

"Is he staying with Voldemort?" asked Harry.

"Yes," answered Vendredi.

"At Ninebanks?" asked Hermione, to verify what she assumed.

"No," replied Vendredi. "Lord Voldemort decided to move to a place called Millbrex."

"Millbrex," repeated Harry. "That's not any safer than Ninebanks. Why did he choose Millbrex?"

"He split his forces," said Vendredi. "Some went to other locations while Lord Voldemort and his senior staff when to Millbrex."

"He wants to make it harder for you to find him," said Coldiron. It didn't escape him that virtually everyone else in the country was trying to make it harder for _Voldemort_ to find _them_.

"So the Count is currently staying with Voldemort?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," replied Vendredi.

"And he wanted some information of his own on Harry," continued Hermione.

"Yes," answered Vendredi.

"What sort of things does he want to know?" asked Harry.

"He wishes to learn how you could find a building protected with the Fidelius and Unplottable Charms," said Vendredi. "He hopes to learn the limits of your powers. He also wishes to determine if you have ambitions beyond Lord Voldemort."

"I see," said Hermione. "In general, then, he's afraid of what Harry might do after Voldemort is destroyed; especially if it might concern him."

"That is correct," confirmed Vendredi.

"So that brings us back to you and your visit," concluded Hermione. "How long were you expecting to be here?"

"I had assumed no more than a day or so," replied Vendredi.

"Have you sent any messages back to you boss?" asked Tonks, reading one of the questions on her list.

"No," answered Vendredi.

"How did you get in the castle in the first place?" continued Tonks.

"I used a spell to make myself undetectable," replied the prisoner.

"What spell is that?" asked Hermione. She had never come across one quite as effective as the one apparently used by this spy.

"Occulta Tractus," said Vendredi, thereby activating the curse behind the Unbreakable Vow to never reveal anything to do with the spell. Being petrified, only his head slumped over, but he was just as dead as if he had hit the floor.

Monty; sensing a change in the state of the prisoner, stepped closer and placed his hand on Vendredi's wrist to confirm his suspicions. Releasing it, he said, "I'm afraid Mr. Vendredi has died."

Most of the group was disturbed by this news, especially Luna, who promptly sat down on the floor. Hermione, however, merely looked at her former prisoner for a moment before saying, "We should remember to always ask our prisoners if they're bound by any curses or vows." She scribbled a note on her parchment before asking, "Well, what should we do with him?"

"We could bury or cremate him," suggested Remus. "When he doesn't return, they wouldn't know what had happened to him."

"You're forgetting a few hundred witnesses," reminded Coldiron. "Everyone knows that Harry and I captured him."

"That's right," agreed Hermione. "Sooner or later, someone important will ask what happened to him."

They all thought silently for a bit before Harry suddenly said, "Monty. Did the prisoner have a knife on him?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter," replied Monty.

"Bring it here," ordered Harry. Monty sent out the appropriate commands.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Hermione.

"This Count... whatever," he said. "You say he's dangerous, but sort of retired?"

"That's what we've heard," said Coldiron.

"Then perhaps it's time for him to go back to shuffleboard," said Harry. "Hermione; take a letter."

* * *

An hour later, at the Voldemort Stronghold at Millbrex

Dusk had passed into twilight as the winged giant glided towards the empty hillside. At least it looked empty. From the memories he had studied, Harry new that a massive compound was dug into the north face of the landscape. A large distinctive oak grew at either end of the property. From Dragon Harry's point of view, they were now nearly side by side. Directing his flight path between them, he crossed the protective barrier and felt the tingle of the petrification spell. Dragons are particularly resistant to most such jinxes, however, so he continued on in. Just before reaching the trees, he sensed the presence of the guards. Not wishing to allow them to get off a shot, he said, in dragon, of course, "Here's a little present for the Count." Pulling up at the last second, he dropped his passenger. Streaking out of the anti-apparation wards, he changed back into a man before apparating back to Hogwarts.

Whomp! The body of Jules Vendredi crashed into the acacia bush just to the right of the main entrance.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Horton Knowles, as he leapt back in panic. Both he and his fellow guard, Vince Powers, were already quite frightened by the passage of the enraged dragon that had just flown over. Having a body fall from the sky had been sufficient to put them over the edge.

"Master!" shouted Knowles as he burst through the door. The klaxon sounded as he set off the intruder alarm.

"Calm yourself, man," ordered Roland DeGruff; head of the current security detail. "What's happened?"

"A man..." gasped out Knowles, pointing towards the open door. Powers had also stepped inside, but had enough wits left to at least stand in the doorway.

"You two," ordered DeGruff, pointing at the inside guards. "Go and see who's out there." The two men headed off, but hadn't got three steps past Powers before one of them shouted, "There's a body out here!"

By now, several off duty Death Eaters had arrived at the main entrance. "Pull your wands," ordered DeGruff. Slapping Knowles to bring him to his senses, he said, "Come along. Let's have a look."

Leading the way, DeGruff stepped outside. Glancing first at the body, he turned his attention to the chill, nearly impenetrable darkness of the grounds. Calling inside, he shouted, "Leave ten men to block the hallway. The rest of you..." He stopped as Snape, followed closely by Rookwood and Lord Voldemort, himself, joined the gathering.

"Report," ordered Voldemort.

"The outer guards had entered the compound to report an incident, Lord," began DeGruff. "I sent two other men to check on the details while I secured the inside. This man ended up in the bush, as you can see, but I have not yet determined..."

"You," said Voldemort, pointing at Powers, impatiently. By his level of fear, he assumed he had witnessed everything. "Report."

"We... we were on guard duty, Master," began Powers. "Horton and I. The barrier defenses were activated. Almost immediately after that, a large dragon flew over. It seemed to be enraged. Before it attacked, it pulled up. A moment later, this man hit the bushes." He looked at the dead man for a moment before realizing he hadn't finished his report. "Horton went inside to tell someone. I stayed outside. Well, in the doorway, I should say."

"Who is he?" asked Snape, turning to the men gathered around the body.

"I think he's one of the Count's men," replied one of the examiners. He, along with another man, had pulled Vendredi from his resting spot. When they set him on the walkway, something unusual became visible.

"He's been stabbed," said Snape, bending low. The blade had passed through a parchment and was stuck deep throughVendredi's clothes and, more importantly, his heart. "There's a note."

"Bring it here," ordered Voldemort.

Snape pulled the knife out of both Vendredi and the note before turning to his master. In the better light, he read the address. "It's for the Count, Master," said Snape. Handing it to the Dark Lord, it clearly read 'To Count L'Argenterie'.

As luck would have it, the Count had just arrived in time to hear this discussion. Stepping closer, he glanced at the note before seeing his most trusted aide. Dropping down, he propped the dead man's head on his knee. "Jules," he cried, "qu'est-ce qui vous est arrivé?"

Vendredi didn't answer, of course. L'Argenterie spent a few moments in shock and quiet grief before regaining control of himself. During this time,Voldemort was tempted to open the note when he hesitated. Opening his mail; in front of him, no less, might cause more trouble than it was worth with his new and powerful friend. Deciding that staying on friendly terms with the Count was more important than the contents of the letter, he merely handed it to him when the Count regained his feet and composure.

"This parchment was found on him?" asked the Count, hesitantly. He examined the slit with the blood stains around it.

"Yes, my friend," replied Voldemort. "It was attached with that." He gestured towards the knife still being held in the hands of Snape.

L'Argenterie examined the knife, briefly. Handing it back to Snape, he said, "It was probably Jules' own blade. I find it familiar, but it is of common appearance." He returned his attention to the parchment. Stepping nearer to the light streaming from the open doorway, he silently read:

To Count L'Argenterie

Opening the parchment, his face went pale when he read the message.

You're next!

HP

* * *

Author's Note: It's sort of a short chapter but it was an important one. It you're wondering about the delay, I had something happen in the last month that I didn't thing was possible; especially since both of my parents are dead. I gained a sister! She's fifty-eight years old and didn't find out she was adopted until she was forty-six. Apparently, Dad met her mom when he was recuperating from wounds during the Korean War. He was shipped back over there before she knew she was expecting; met and married another man and adopted my sister off. Dad came back; met and married Mom and never knew he had another daughter. Life can be strange, sometimes.

Dad


	128. Chapter 128

Chapter 128 - Count Me Out

November 30th, 1997

"Pierre," shouted Count L'Argenterie through the doorway. He turned as if to walk out onto the grounds, reversed course back to the door and then stopped altogether in his aggitation.

"What is it?" asked Voldemort in sincere concern. He tried to peek at the parchment without being too obvious about it.

"What was that?" asked the distracted count. He resumed his pacing, once more.

"The note," clarified Voldemort. "What did it say that has put you in such a state?"

"Oh, the note," repeated the Count, looking at the crumpled parchment. "Ah, nothing. It said nothing of importance." He quickly stuffed the letter inside his robes. Looking all about, he grabbed Voldemort's lapel and gently pulled him over to the side; away from any of their men.

"I am leaving, my friend," whispered the Count, urgently. "Tonight. Now. I will _not_ be returning."

"But why?" begged Voldemort. He followed the Count as he resumed his pacing around in circles for a few seconds. Regaining control, again, the half-crazed Frenchman (sorry for the redundancy) turned and looked at his host; eyes wide in fright.

"Because you are not fighting a man, but a demon," answered L'Argenterie, in a whisper. "This Harry Potter can do things that are... are just not possible. He has found and entered your strongholds, despite their protections. He has swept away dozens of competent wizards without significant aid or warning. He has..." He stopped, wondering if he should mention anything about Vendredi's role in his sudden decision. "He has detected and killed a good friend; a friend that I taught my most secret enchantments. Jules was a master at occlumency. He could resist Veritaserum. There is no way that this Monsier Potter should have been able to learm my name or that I was here with you. Beyond that..." He paused. "Beyond that I shall only say that poor Jules should not have been noticed by any means; magical or otherwise. It was that same spell that allowed me to annoy you so very much during our first meeting."

Voldemort had wondered about that since their first encounter. Count L'Argenterie had thoroughly infiltrated his Italian manor without the slightest glimmer of notice by any of his men or protective charms. If the dead man had been under similar protections, then how did Potter find him out? He thought back to the last time he had seen the Count's assistant. As far as his memory served, it was last night. That made it even worse. Potter must have discovered and captured the spy immediately; interrogated him during the course of the day to get what information he could, and then killed him as an example or warning. He had to admit that it had shaken up the Count. For a brief second, Count L'Argenterie's near panic, along with his own analysis, had made him consider going with him.

"You believe that we can't defend ourselves against him?" asked Voldemort, quietly. The question lacked the incredulity that it would have possessed in the past. Now it was a legitimate concern.

"I do not know," replied the Count. "I do not wish to find out." Stepping closer and whispering even quieter, he said, "One last piece of advice, my friend, before I depart; something it took me years to realize and even longer to accept. Sometimes, no matter our goals or desires, we just have to make the best deal available and live with it. I feel that such a time may be approaching for you."

"You're suggesting I negotiate with Potter?" asked Voldemort, this time using the proper tone of shock and surprise.

"You may negotiate now," replied the Count, "or have terms dictated to you later; or worse. Think on it." Turning away, he hustled on over to talk to his new number two man; Pierre.

"Pierre," said the Count. "Gather the men and our belongings and meet me back at..." He paused a moment to make his decision. "...the Paris headquarters."

"What about us?" asked Camille, in confusion. He had never heard of Count L'Argenterie pulling up stakes and heading home so suddenly and it had him worried.

"You and Michel have a contract," replied the Count. "Fulfill it. Farewell." Without so much as a wave, he pulled what turned out to be a portkey from his pocket and immediately activated it.

* * *

"Well," said Snape, after a few shocked seconds had passed. He searched for a few more seconds for a followup comment, but was unable to generate one. He, along with Rookwood and the Dark Lord, stood out of whispered earshot of those more actively involved in the investigations and preparations. Watching in thoughtful silence as Pierre directed a couple of the Count's men to place Vendredi in stasis for his return home, they initially kept their musings to themselves.

Finally, Voldemort said; softly, so only his two highest level lieutenants could hear, "Don't speak openly about this to the men. If anyone asks questions, brush it off as unimportant. Everything is under control. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lord," said Rookwood, immediately.

Snape wasn't quite so sycophantic. "I'm not sure if it will be possible to simply ignore the events of this night," he said. "A body comes crashing from the sky. The Count receives a note pinned to the dead man's chest with a knife through his heart. The Count leaves within a couple of minutes. Simply saying 'Don't worry about it.' won't stop anyone from, well, worrying about it."

"I'd be happy to hear any bright ideas about what we _could_ tell the men," snapped back Voldemort, irritably. After a slight facial adjustment, he added, "In fact, I'll be requiring them. Meet me in my rooms in one hour." Without another word, and with only a slight glance at Vendredi's body as he passed, he reentered his headquarters.

Rookwood and Snape stood silently for another two minutes. Vendredi had left with a personal guide. L'Argenterie's remaining men had gone inside to pack. The Dark Lord's forces had, for the most part, returned to what they had been doing with the exception of four men conscripted into searching the grounds for any other anomalies. There was a slight chill in the air, so it wasn't suspicious when Rookwood put his hands in his pockets. At least it wouldn't have been had a less observant person than Snape been standing next to him.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, not shifting his gaze.

"No," replied Rookwood, jerking his hands out of his pockets.

Snape laughed, humorlessly. "I thought so," he said, cooly. "I can't really say anything, myself." He held up the portkey in his own hand. Rookwood smiled.

"Just a passing thought, Sev," said Augie. "He'd find us soon enough, anyway."

"I know," replied Snape. "Still..." He sighed. Signaling for his comrade to follow, he headed towards the door.

* * *

December 1st, 1997

Just after 3 A.M., In the Office of the Headmistress.

"I must admit," said McGonagall, "that you have me quite perplexed as to what I should do, Miss Lovegood." She sat behind her desk, fingering her wand while a quite humbled and contrite Luna stood opposite her; visible only by the illumination of the single candle lit on the desk. "While your actions would normally require at least one detention and, quite possibly, a report to the Auror Service, I understand the motivation behind them and feel that I can trust your account of what happened as a result."

"I'm not lying, Headmistress," restated Luna. "All Kurt did was hold me while we talked. I'd never been connected when someone died and it was very... And the way Hermione reacted was... Well, I guess there were just too many shocks on so many levels that I needed... Kurt." She flailed her arms; trying to summon the right words.

"I understand," said Minerva, "I really do. I'm just uncomfortable with having one of my underage students spending half the night with a man; however innocently or inadvertently." Luna had already explained that after crying and talking out her bundles of emotions, she and Kurt had sat quietly on his couch until they both fell asleep; his arms wrapped protectively around her. It had been one of her Ravenclaw roommates that, quite understandably, was concerned enough by her unprecedented absence; well past two o'clock, in fact, to contact Professor Spout. It wasn't long after before the Headmistress had become involved and the young couple was discovered.

"I can't promise that it won't happen, again," volunteered Luna, honestly, "considering the sorts of activities I'm involved with, but I _can_ promise not to do so without first notifying you."

McGonagall smiled at this. Over the years, she had had a great many students in similar circumstances tell her a great many things, but never had any offered to notify her if a recurrence were anticipated. "Alright," she decided, finally. "I trust your honesty on the subject. I don't expect you to lie to anyone else about this, either, so here's what I want you to do. You will spend the rest of the night in the Hospital Wing. If anyone asks about your night, you could say that you were very upset about something private; had needed some help to calm down and then stayed with Madame Pomphrey until morning."

Luna considered the story and gave McGonagall a conspiratorial look. "I suppose that it would all be true, if I left it at just that."

"See that you do, then," replied the Headmistress, sitting back in her chair. With a flick of her wrist, she shooed Luna out of the office and to the Hospital Wing.

After Luna had left, a familiar voice came out of the near darkness of the room. "You're getting soft, Minerva."

McGonagall looked up without turning around. Although unable to actually see the painting, she replied, "I'll admit that I might have gone easier on Miss Lovegood than I might have with other students."

"I think that providing an alibi is more than just 'going easy', Minerva," commented another, equally familiar voice from just inside the door to her quarters.

"Do either of you actually think that anything happened beyond what Miss Lovegood volunteered?" asked McGonagall, tersely. The peanut gallery remained silent. "Very well. I'll consider the incident closed." She thought a moment before amending, "At least Luna's part in it. I am concerned with her description of Hermione's reaction to the sudden death of the man."

"You should be more concerned with who the man was working for," countered Rufus. "A collaboration between Lord Voldemort and Count L'Argenterie would be very serious, indeed."

"I agree," added Dumbledore. "Although he's only a couple of decades younger than I am; or was, that is, I believe that his abilities haven't suffered much since his peak. If Harry's rather outrageous bluff doesn't work, he might have his hands full."

Rufus laughed. "Tonks' note had quite a shake to her lettering just from describing what he'd done," he said. "Personally, I'd give even money that L'Argenterie is already back in France."

"Who said it was a bluff, anyway?" asked Minerva. "Professor Coldiron's account contained less surprise than exasperation. From what I could gather between his laughs, Harry's tactical essays for dealing with similar situations tend to lean heavily towards the same sort of inventive solutions."

"You mean he might actually intend to go after the Count?" asked Rufus in surprise.

"You never know with Harry," said McGonagall.

"You can say _that_ again," said Rufus and Grampa, simultaneously. There was a slight pause before both men laughed.

Minerva sighed. "I suppose he'll do what he'll do," she said. Getting up, she walked over towards her current lover while giving a quiet "good night" to her former.

* * *

Later that morning, but still early.

"What did that crazy Frenchman do; tap him on the shoulder?" Lord Voldemort was reading the third of four letters that had arrived with the morning owls. Each had given a description of the pursuit and capture of Vendredi in the Great Hall; each with a slightly different perspective and emphasis. On one point, however, they were all in agreement; the beginning of the confrontation happened in an instant.

"He must have done _something_," commented Snape. "This letter is from Klein's son, Michael. He happened to be watching the younger students practice just when Potter stood up. He says that he turned and cast his first spell nearly immediately."

"I wonder what enchantment he'd used," pondered Airins. "Vendredi, that is. It didn't sound like it was very easy to dispell."

"Or painless," added Rookwood. "Two of the letters mentioned numerous cuts all over his body."

"The Count told me that it was the same spell he used when he infiltrated the compound in Tuscany," volunteered Voldemort. "If you'll recall, he, along with a dozen of his men, were standing right next to me when he revealed himself."

"He was expected, as well," said Airins, not yet quick-witted enough to hesitate before rubbing salt in the Dark Lord's wounds. "Even if Potter has sources within the Death Eaters, there's no way that he could have been..."

"What do you mean?" asked Voldemort as the other lieutenants held their breaths. "Who said anything about_ sources_? Spies, in other words." His temper had flared up at the mere suggestion.

Airins, deciding it was too late to back out of the comment, said, "I think it is likely, my Lord. When he visited last Thursday, not only was he able to enter; he knew where both the cells and the interrogation rooms were located. He must have had some source of inside information."

Voldemort was still mad, but he decided he couldn't damn Airins for being right. "Go on with what you were saying about the dead man," he ordered. He sat back in his chair to listen while also pondering the new wrinkle.

"Well," said Airins, collecting his thoughts, "I just thought that even if he did have a spy, Vendredi wouldn't have been noticed missing and a message sent in time for the dinner meal, last night. I don't believe the Count told anyone else about his man's last mission, did he?"

They all looked around their group before collectively shaking their heads.

"So Potter discovered him without any notice" finished Airins, "but it took him a good part of the day to do so; assuming Vendredi arrived in the morning."

"How do you explain the suddenness of the attack, then?" asked Rookwood.

"I don't know," answered Airins. "Maybe Vendredi made some sort of a mistake. Perhaps Potter wanted to have witnesses and just waited until then. Who knows?"

"I also think that a combination of events must have taken place," said Snape. "Even Potter, despite his other shortcomings, wouldn't just wildly cast spells as the result of an odd sound; certainly not in a hall full of students. He must have had some other clues that Vendredi was near and finally pinned him down during dinner."

"It's as good a theory as any," said Voldemort. "I'd expect other reports to arrive either today or with tomorrow's owls. I'll wait until more information is known before deciding on the next step in the investigation."

Snape and Rookwood glanced meaningfully at each other. Such patience, reason and calm wouldn't have been expected even six months earlier if a body had been thrown at the Dark Lord's headquarters and an important guest and ally frightened away. Not that they were complaining, of course.

* * *

Meanwhile, a hundred miles or so to the west.

"I'm not sure I understand your point," said Hermione after a moment's thought. "I was pretty shaken up by it, in my opinion."

"Of course you'd be the best judge of how you felt," agreed Luna, "but from where I sat, you seemed more upset that he didn't finish the interview than that he died during it."

Hermione thought about this for a moment. During this time, Harry put in his two knuts worth. "I think that Luna's more right than we'd like to admit," he said, scratching his chin. "The first thing that crossed my mind when that bloke bought it was 'Great. Another body to get rid of.' It wasn't that we didn't care, though, Luna. I think it was more of not wanting it to become a regular event."

"I think you're on to something," agreed Hermione. "Believe me; I don't want to have any more prisoners drop dead on me. I think that might be why my first thought was how to prevent it in the future."

"And the dagger through the heart?" asked Luna.

"That was an inspired use of an unfortunate incident," chimed in Ron. "Considering how hard the bloke was to detect, we don't want them to try again. The bugger was dead, anyway. Using him to frighten off that Count fellow was definitely worth a shot.

Luna sighed, but had to nod in agreement. She wasn't entirely convinced that they were all as shaken up by the event as she was, but they did express some form of remorse. Before she could come up with a closing reply, however, they were interrupted by the morning owls.

As usual, the regular owl post deliveries of letters from home, magazines and Daily Prophets forced the students in the hall to drop their other activities and concentrate on incoming correspondence. It seemed to be a greater than average day as far as volume went, but nothing out of the ordinary happened until...

Thump! A larger than average barn owl swooped in with a small, but apparently hefty package. It landed between Harry and Hermione.

"Is that for you or me?" asked Hermione, peeking around her already opened newspaper.

"Ah... yes," replied Harry, after reading the label. "Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter. Hogwarts. Great Hall."

Hermione waved her wand over the package, resulting in a pleasing 'Ting!' as the revealing charm had found no hidden jinxes or curses. "Go ahead and see what it is," she ordered, going back to her paper.

Harry had already pulled a small knife to do just that. Cutting the bindings, he unwrapped the package to reveal, much to his pleasure, a collection of chocolate frog boxes and an official looking letter.

"Can I have one?" asked Ron, taking all of two seconds to notice the contents of the package.

"Sure," said Harry, tossing him one. He unrolled the letter and began to read it.

"These are lively little buggers," said Ron, trying to catch his chocolate frog before it got out of reach. Unlike the usual half-hearted hop from a semi-stale frog, this particular confectionary amphibian made it all the way down to Seamus before running out of steam.

"Better luck next time, mate," said the unrepentant Irishman. He made a show of biting the frog's head cleanly off its shoulders.

"Harry," whined Ron, looking pleadingly back at his best mate.

"Here you go," said Harry tossing Ron another one. "Try to be a bit more careful." He restarted on the letter, but was interrupted shortly later as Ron had glanced at the card from the first box before moving on to open the second.

"Bloody hell, Harry," said Ron, holding up the card while turning the face towards Harry. "_It's you._"

Sure enough. The image on the front of the card was of a younger Harry fighting a basilisk in what must have been an artist's vision of the Chamber of Secrets. Neither Harry, nor the basilisk, showed any signs of moving, though, and Ron seemed quite vexed about that.

"Bloody thing's defective," he said, poking at it with his wand.

Despite the apparent deficiency of this edition of chocolate frog, the air was soon filled with requests for the remainder of the rapidly dwindling supply.

"I don't mind sharing," said Harry, picking up a box to hand to Luna, although she was the only one nearby who hadn't asked, "but I'd like one for..." Harry's hopes of having one for himself evaporated as quickly as the stack of candy.

"Congratulations, Harry," said Hermione. She had picked up the letter that Harry had been attempting to read and succeeded where he had failed. "Now that you're of age, Honeydukes has decided to include you with their line of... Hold on." She read a section, again, and had leaned over to discretely tell Harry something that seemed to embarrass her. The attempt was futile, of course, as Dean held up his card in, well, it would be hard to classify it as anything but slight disappointment.

"Bloody hell," said Dean. "Mine's of Hermione." He looked at it for a few seconds more before passing it down to Harry, who had held out his hand to borrow it.

"Hermione Jane Granger Potter," read Harry, aloud. "Born 19 September, 1979 to Daniel and Emma Granger, Mrs. Potter was, at the time of this printing, Head Girl at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although she has excelled as a student, perhaps her greatest claim to fame has been her marriage to Harry Potter. In one instance, however, she single-handedly attacked He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named along with several of his Death Eater guards and a Dementor in order to save an unidentified young girl. It is this scene that is represented on the reverse of this card." Harry turned over the card and saw the depiction of Hermione running down the steps of Gringotts, although she, like Harry in his other cards, didn't move.

"It's a good likeness, Hermione," said Harry. He held it out to her. She didn't take it, though, being busy covering her face in embarrassment.

"I think it's brilliant," said Honey, taking the card from Harry. "There are far too few women represented on those cards. Having one as brave and accomplished as Hermione will go a long way to level the field."

The spattering of applause and approving remarks did not help Hermione's self-consciousness, but she did manage to smile appreciatively.

"So why don't they move?" asked Neville, holding up one of Dragon Harry saving the Hogwarts Express.

"The contract isn't signed," answered Hermione. "These are part of the new set of cards for 1998 and Harry needs to approve of them and sign the contract. Then they'll move like normal cards."

"Won't you have to sign, too?" asked Harry.

"I suppose so," said Hermione, blushing again.

"Let's see," said Harry, holding up the contract. "We get two knuts a card." Turning to Hermione, he softly exclaimed, "We're rich!" followed by laughter.

"You'd be surprised," said Hermione. "I'll bet you make a hundred galleons by the end of next year."

"That would be a lot of chocolate frogs," said Harry, taking a quill and ink out of his backpack. "Of course, Ron will still be buying them, I suppose." He signed the contract and passed the quill over to Hermione.

Bloody hell, Harry!" exclaimed Neville. Upon writing the final 'r' in Potter, the train on his card began to move towards the damaged bridge. In silent action, four other students gathered around to watch as Dragon Harry blew apart the front of the train and flung himself between the passenger cars and certain death for those inside.

"Cool," said Dean. "What do the rest of them do?" By now, of course, most of the hall had heard of the latest distraction and crowded around the Gryffindor table to get a peek. This didn't include the Slytherins, of course, although three-quarters of them were dying to take a look. A few of them managed to use the unanticipated distraction to hastily add to their outgoing letters before giving them to the owls.

"Way to go, Hermione," said Ginny, giving her a high five. Hermione's image rushed down the steps and blasted Voldemort and his entire entourage across the street. Not very accurate, but it was a trading card; not a documentary.

All in all, the eight cards for Harry and one for Hermione were so popular that McGonagall had to intervene before the start of classes.

"I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate those trading cards," she said, coming down to the cluster of students. At the general expressions of dismay and disappointment, she added, "I can't imagine a greater distraction during classes than having one or more of them being passed around the room. I'll post them, with Mr. Potter's permission, on the main bulletin board. Students may view them during their off hours." She held out her hand.

Within a few seconds, four cards had been passed up to her. "I believe that I saw more than this," said McGonagall, sharply. Two more cards appeared.

"Accio Harry Potter Trading Cards," intoned McGonagall, her temper rising with her wand. The final three zoomed to her hand.

"Make sure you don't damage them," warned Ron. "First edition Harry Potters will be worth some gold, someday."

"I'll be careful," said McGonagall. "Just a word of warning, however. I'll be applying a protective charm to these, so don't touch them unless you enjoy pain." She turned to leave, but was stopped in her tracks by the sight of the card that happened to be on top. "My goodness," she exclaimed in disbelief. "Is that supposed to be me?"

Harry peered over McGonagall's shoulder. This card depicted her rescue from Voldemort. It was arguably the least accurate of the lot, given that Harry was fighting Voldemort; Dobby and Bellatrix Lestrange were nowhere to be found and McGonagall was missing about forty years of her age and sixty percent of her clothing. "I think Rufus'll want _that_ one," he noted, prophetically.

* * *

Later that morning

Jerry Knight walked down the moderately busy raised walkway alongside Diagon Alley. He was approaching the offices of the Daily Prophet. Although unusually warm for the beginning of December, he wore full robes and gloves. Beyond that, though, he looked pretty much like any other shopper. His purpose this day wasn't to procure any material goods, however. He was sent to determine exactly what terms would be in place should Lord Voldemort accept the invitation to have a Death Eater give the interview requested by Linus Lovegood. A fairly well-tempered and intelligent man, as Death Eaters go, he was chosen to make the first inquiries. He was ordered to make arrangements if circumstances dictated, but not to give the actual interview at this time.

Unknown to Mr. Knight, a pair of the Hogwarts Free Elves had noticed him coming down the alley. He had been identified as a Death Eater due to his absence from their map. His identity had been narrowed down to three possibilities, based on his description. Since he didn't appear to be causing trouble, he was not detained. That could change at a moment's notice, if necessary. Word was sent back and all three names would be inserted into the perpetual queue being cycled through the machine in the Fortress of Solitude. This wizard wouldn't be a stranger much longer.

Almost having an appointment, Knight walked right up the front steps of the building and entered. He wasn't dressed as a Death Eater, so the thirty-something witch at the front desk didn't become alarmed.

"Good morning," she said, looking up from her paperwork. "May I help you.?"

"I certainly hope so," replied Knight, honestly. "I, ah, would like to speak with Mr. Lovegood, if that could be arranged."

"It might be," replied the witch, who's name happened to be Julie Joplin. "Just give me a moment to check. What would be the subject of this meeting?"

"Well," said Knight, wondering just how open he could be with both his status as a Death Eater and the actual subject of the meeting, "it concerns an interview that we've come to understand Mr. Lovegood would like with... well, one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters."

"Oh, that," replied Miss Joplin. "Are you here to give the interview?" She had apparently heard about it.

"Not yet," replied Knight. "I'm just here to discuss the arrangements."

"I'll let Mr. Lovegood know you're here," said Joplin. "Please have a seat." She left to speak to the Editor.

'You'd think they had Death Eaters stopping by every day,' thought Knight, taking a chair by the window.

It turned out that not everyone thought that having a Death Eater stopping by the Daily Prophet was such a normal occurrence. Windy and Tripper were on duty and finally decided that, troublemaker or no, this was worth reporting.

* * *

Out on the Quidditch pitch

"Stupify!" Ping. "Stupify!" Ping. "Expelliarmus!" Doying. "Petrificus Totalus!" Thunk. The spells flew in from all sides as Harry and Ron fended them off. It was mostly Harry doing the fending, of course, but Ron kept a sharp eye out for any shots taken from out of Harry's field of view. The venom behind the incoming spells had increased over time; a result of not only their lack of effectiveness, but the nonchalant manner in which Harry was deflecting them.

"Come on, Harry," shouted Ernie MacMillian in exasperation. "At least let us wing Ron." The warm-up exercises for Double Defense had included a five minute assault/defense section for about a month, now, where the four teams broke up into two groups; each having one team on defense in the middle of the other team that spread out to fire disabling spells from all directions. Harry's group had always been a man short for this, due to the fact that Draco had been killed in combat. Despite having the Ravenclaw/Slytherin team with five members, Coldiron had decided that Harry's team had enough of an edge and left them at just the three. He had been surprised when, up until now, it had been Hermione generating most of the shields during their team's turn in the middle. She was good at it. However, she had been sidelined due to her injury, so only Ron and Harry participated today. Smelling blood, the Hufflepuffs produced an impressive barrage.

Harry looked at his watch. Just two more minutes. Flicking his wand this way and that, he stiffled a yawn before he was distracted by a visitor.

"Mr. Potter," said Monty, appearing before him with a pop.

"That's not fair," shouted Susan Bones. "You can't add members halfway through."

"He's not helping me," retorted Harry. If anything, Monty was another distraction. Turning to the elf, he asked, "What's up?" He continued to defend his slightly larger group, but mostly on automatic pilot.

"It has been reported that a Death Eater has entered the main office of the Daily Prophet, Mr. Potter," replied Monty.

"How many?" asked Harry, not quite able to concentrate on all of the details.

"Just the one," replied Monty. "His name is Mr. Jerry Knight. Tripper reports that he was not in the usual robes for Death Eaters and didn't appear to be there to cause any sort of trouble."

"Hmm," said Harry, followed by "Ouch!" He had been hit by a stunner while distracted. A cheer rose up from the Hufflepuffs until they saw that it didn't bring Harry down.

"_Ron,_" said Harry, in an annoyed voice. Ron had been thinking of a followup question for Monty instead of defending Harry. Fortunately Harry had more than a little natural resistance to weak spells and it merely stung for a second.

"Sorry," said Ron. He took up scanning, again, but asked, "Did it seem to Tripper like we should go check him out or capture him or anything?"

"That would be up to you and Mr. Potter," replied Monty, taking a moment to stop a low bouncer in its tracks before it nailed him.

"I suppose we'd better check on him," said Harry. He wasn't pleased with the prospect. Defense was perhaps his best, and therefore most enjoyable class. He didn't like to miss it. "Hold up there, Ernie," shouted Harry, waving his arms to get the attention of the Hufflepuff captain.

"We've got thirty seconds to go," replied Ernie. "We hit you once and we'll do it again." He encouraged his team to give it all they had for their final assault.

"Have it your way," mumbled Harry. He flipped his wand tip in a circular fashion for a second before quickly stuffing it in his outer robe pocket. Rapidly raising both empty hands, he used is seeker's reflexes to catch the four incoming wands.

Tweet! Coldiron blew his whistle. "Foul, Potter," he shouted. "You're not to disarm the attacking team." Noticing the elf, he rushed on over from where he had been observing the other paired teams so that he could have a more discreet conversation. "What's up?" he asked, retrieving the Hufflepuff wands.

"We're not sure," replied Harry. "A Death Eater went into the Daily Prophet. According to Tripper, it didn't seem like he was causing trouble, but we thought it might be a good idea to check him out, anyway."

"A Death Eater _not _causing trouble is unusual, I suppose," said Coldiron. He looked at his watch. I'll tell you what; I'll excuse the absence to check him out, but give me a foot each on the tactics used and their effectiveness and possible improvements by the next class." He jogged off to return the errant wands.

"Homework," gruffed Ron. "Homework on a mission. That seems hardly fair." Looking at Harry with a hopeful glint in his eye, he asked, "Was that a foot each on tactics and effectiveness or a foot from each of us?" Imprecise instructions could be your friend.

"I'm pretty sure that you and I both know what he meant," said Harry, "but it _is_ an arguable point. I plan on going in undetected, though. I know you have your own invisibility cloak, but a lot of carpet fringe came into view at that bogus attack on Diagon Alley. Why not let me check it out? I'll call for backup if I need it."

Ron didn't have to be asked twice. "No mission; no homework." He smirked at Harry before adding, "I'll be sure to bring you some bread and water to sustain you while you're doing the extra work."

"Thanks," said Harry. "If I don't make it back in time for Charms, tell Hermione I'll see her at lunch."

"If you don't make it back in time for Charms," corrected Ron, "You'll see Hermione at the Daily Prophet." Weak or not, and recovering from a major injury or not, they both knew that she'd come after him.

With a nod, Harry stepped away as Ron flew over to rejoin the class. Flinging his invisibility cloak over himself, he apparated to just down the street of the Daily Prophet. Part of the security for Linus had been to place a limited diameter goblin ward around the building so no unexpected guests would be arriving, today. He had this Death Eater all to himself.

* * *

Jerry Knight glanced through the dusty magazines laying on the table next to him. Perusing the cover of _Witch Broomstick_, he saw a couple of interesting articles listed about a new model broom due out early next year. Flipping to the first one, he laughed to himself when he realized it described a sneak peak at the Nimbus 2000. Preparing to toss it back onto the table, his eyes momentarily played a trick on him. The receptionist, who he would have sworn had been filing away some papers just a moment earlier, was now sipping from a cup at the water cooler. The ambient light in the room had also seemed to change in a blink. Glancing around for any other anomalies, he immediately noticed that a young man was sitting directly to his left. It wasn't just any young man, either.

"Hello, Jerry," said Harry in a friendly tone. "Come to place an ad?" He just sat there, politely waiting for an answer.

Knight, who had nearly been unable to suppress the scream that had wanted to escape his lips, instinctively reached for his wand. It wasn't in his pocket.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," said Harry, holding up Jerry's wand while pointing his own at the confused Death Eater, "but I think it'd be best all the way around if I held onto this for a bit." He put Jerry's wand in his own pocket.

"What do you want from me?" asked Jerry in a confused and frightened voice.

"Nothing much," said Harry. "_Just your soul_." He laughed, menacingly.

"Get away from me!" shouted Jerry, jumping backwards, pinning his chair to the wall.

"Just kidding," said Harry, giving his usual chuckle. "I thought you Death Eaters had a sense of humor."

"I, ah..." babbled Jerry, "don't know..."

"Calm down," said Harry. "Have a seat. I didn't come here to kill you."

"You didn't?" asked Knight. He wiped his brow with his gloved hand before sliding back into his chair.

"Of course not," said Harry, smiling. "Why would I waste my time talking to you if that was my intention. I'd just..." he waved his wand in a short circle around Knight's nose, "do it."

"That's... that's good," said Knight, somewhat relieved. He took a deep breath before asking, "Then what brings you around here?"

"Oh, the usual," said Harry. "Some shopping; visiting with friends; that sort of thing. Then I heard you were in the neighborhood and I thought I'd stop by to ask you a question that's been on my mind for awhile."

"A question?" asked Jerry. "Me? What sort of a question?" He loosened his cloak a bit.

"Well," began Harry. "If you'll recall, I visited Tom's place a while back. I was in a bit of a hurry and didn't get to see the finish of the tournament."

"Tournament?" asked Jerry.

"Darts," reminded Harry. "You and that big fellow with the mustache; what was his name?"

"Harcort?" suggested Jerry.

"Harcort," agreed Harry. "I think you two were doing pretty well. Did you win?"

"Win?" asked Jerry, not having any idea how a week old dart game had become the subject of this conversation. Thinking, he said, "Uh, yes. We won ten galleons."

"Congratulations," said Harry, shaking Jerry's arm congenially. Quickly pulling back his hand, he asked, "That doesn't feel right, does it?" He indicated the arm. "Not normal."

"Feel right?" asked Jerry. In his confusion, he answered honestly. "Well, it's a bit stiffer than the original, I suppose."

"May I see it?" asked Harry. He waited, expectantly.

"You want to see my arm?" asked Jerry. "Why?"

"Well," said Harry, "I've made something of a hobby fixing these things and maybe I can help." He encouraged Jerry to shed his outer robes.

Not really knowing what else to do, Knight removed his robes and gloves. Rolling up his sleeve, he let Harry take a look.

"Hmm," said Harry. "Tom didn't put a lot of effort into this, did he?" He waved his wand over the arm, attempting to detect any traps or curses.

"It works well enough," said Jerry.

"Maybe," said Harry, unconvinced. "I'll tell you what; just hold still for a minute and let me put on one of mine and see what you think. If you don't like it, you can have this one back."

"I don't know..." mumbled Jerry.

"It'll only take a second," said Harry. He pointed his wand to begin.

Not really being in a position to refuse, Jerry stood still as instructed. He watched in amazement as the silver arm came loose and floated over to an unused chair. A new arm, still silver but much closer to the real thing, formed in the air. When fully detailed, it slipped up his sleeve and attached near his shoulder. Harry then cast the symmetry spells and Jerry once again had a matched set.

Flexing the fingers and then feeling the new arm with the old, Jerry smiled and said, "Why thank you. That's much better."

"No problem at all," said Harry. They both sat back down.

Linus Lovegood had seen his cue; Harry putting a new arm on the Death Eater, and entered the lobby. "I can see you, now, Mr. Knight," he said. "Why, good morning, Harry. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Good morning, Linus," replied Harry. "I just stopped by to say hello to Jerry, here. Wanted to find out how a sporting event turned out."

"I see," said Lovegood. "Can you stick around for a bit? Maybe give an interview?"

"No," said Harry. "I should probably get back. I have Charms coming up in a few minutes."

"That's too bad," said Linus. "Well, say hello to Luna for me."

"Will do," said Harry with a fake salute. Taking a step towards the door, he suddenly stopped and twirled back around. "I almost forgot," he said, pulling out Knight's wand and returning it to him. "Well, goodbye, again." This time he made it out the door and down past the wards. With a laugh at how confused Voldemort will be when he views this bloke's memory, he popped back to Hogwarts.


	129. Chapter 129

Chapter 129 - Harry's Secret

December 1st, 1997

Just after supper in Minerva's walk-in meeting room.

"I'd like these to be especially good notes," whispered Harry to Hermione. "As we go through everything, be sure to include any thoughts you might have on the tactics I used. You know; their effectiveness and, uh, what else... Oh, any possible improvements."

"Sure," replied a slightly confused Hermione. "I usually do that anyway, you know." Her notes on any particular subject were generally better planned and more detailed than most people's finished work.

"I know," agreed Harry, hopeful that history would repeat itself. "Just thought I'd mention it." He picked up the collated stack of parchments he had brought with him and began to place one set in front of each chair while the other members of the meeting finished the obligatory milling around and chatting. By the time he returned to his own chair, everyone had found a place to sit and Harry was ready to start.

"Good evening," he began. "For any of you who haven't heard the details, this will be the first of two meetings, tonight. The first is for everyone, but more informative than anything else and shouldn't take too long. The second will be just for the Inner Circle." He looked around and noted that only Professor Coldiron and Madam Pomfrey would be leaving early.

"Well," he continued, "the fact is that we got lucky this morning. An unenchanted, fairly intelligent and well informed Death Eater was seen entering the Daily Prophet shortly after nine o'clock. It turns out that this was due to an initiative that Mr. Lovegood himself had planned. I'm not sure that it was a very good idea, but he intends to interview an average Death Eater or two. He sent out some feelers and got a nibble from Voldemort. This man was sent to gather further information and perhaps set up an appointment for a complete interview."

"Why in the world would Voldemort consider agreeing to such a thing?" asked Rufus.

"I asked Jerry that same question," replied Harry. Seeing the confused faces, he added, "Jerry Knight is the name of the Death Eater that was sent. He didn't know, either." He waited a moment to see if anyone might have an idea. Hearing none, he continued.

"Anyway," said Harry, "shortly after that, Monty reported this to Ron and I."

"Ron and me," corrected Hermione.

"What?" asked Harry, confused.

"You should have said, 'Ron and me'," she explained.

"But you weren't even there," countered an equally confused Ron.

"Get on with it, Potter," ordered an exasperated McGonagall. Only about a quarter of those present understood the misunderstanding and they had two meetings to get through, tonight.

"Alright, alright," said Harry. "Anyway, Monty told us about the Death Eater, so Ron and me...?" He looked questioningly at Hermione who just rolled her eyes. "...well, we decided that it was worth checking him out. It seemed best to be as secretive as possible, so I used my invisibility cloak and popped to just past the anti-apparation ward we hired the goblins to place around the Daily Prophet building. I didn't really know what was going to happen, so I decided to use the Obliviate Tractus spell the moment I saw him. That way, if everything went off the rails, I could just finish the spell and he wouldn't even know I was there."

"That sounds like a good strategy for most controlled encounters," replied Coldiron. "How did you get in and find him without being detected?"

"There were a couple of rather portly people who happened to be going towards the front door," explained Harry, "so I just waited for the slowest and fattest one and followed her in."

"How did you identify the Death Eater from the other visitors?" asked McGonagall.

"They're pretty easy to pick out in a crowd," said Harry, "at least when they're inside. Their new arms are silver. Most of them wear gloves in public; inside or out, and those that don't, stick out like you'd expect. This bloke wore gloves."

"I see," said Minerva, satisfied.

"After I got inside," continued Harry, "I picked an out of the way corner and waited for the room to clear a bit and for Jerry to get into a reproducible position. Then I hit him with the Obliviate Tractus and petrified him."

"Didn't he react when the first spell was cast?" asked Coldiron. He had only a passing familiarity with that particular memory charm.

"No," replied Harry, succinctly.

"It doesn't emit a beam and you can't feel it when it hits," explained Hermione.

"Just so you know, we're keeping that spell under wraps, as much as possible," said Harry, noting Hammer's interest. "It prevents you from remembering anything from the moment it's cast until the Obliviate Expleo ends it. By using it, I was able to question him for over an hour and he won't remember any of it, even if they use legilimency on him."

"I assume you brought him back to the Fortress for this questioning?" asked McGonagall.

"No," said Harry. "He might have been monitored, remotely. After I petrified him, I spoke with Linus and he agreed to let me use an empty office at the Prophet. In fact, he also helped at the end with the deception that only a few minutes had passed since Jerry had arrived."

"That was nice of him," said Honey.

"I thought so," agreed Harry. "Rita took notes for me during the interview, as well." This information caused a bit of an uproar.

"You let a reporter," sputtered Rufus in amazement, "especially _that _reporter, take notes during something as secret as a Death Eater interrogation? Have you lost your mind?"

Harry laughed. "Rita doesn't remember any more of that meeting than Jerry," he explained. "Of course I didn't tell her about that part. She thought she'd get the story of the year and took very good and detailed notes. Then I just petrified her, took her parchments and levitated her back to her office. As far as she knows, I just stopped by to say hello. I've had copies made for each of you." He indicated the stack of parchments that he had distributed earlier. "There's a lot of information there, but nothing too urgent, as far as I could tell. There might be a few pieces of puzzles that some of you might recognize, though." Everyone took a moment to leaf through their stacks.

"So what were the highlights?" asked Hermione. She had already been told the majority of this story in general, but wanted to hear the full version of any important bits. She also knew that a more important meeting was coming up and wanted to keep the ball rolling.

"Well," said Harry, "the best news by far was the fact that my message to that Count fellow seemed to work. According to Jerry, he was on his way back to France in less than five minutes."

"Really," commented Rufus, thoughtfully. "Did he have any details about that?"

"He didn't witness it, himself," replied Harry, "but word spread pretty quickly through the ranks. He shouted for one of his men; gave a couple of instructions about packing, and was gone."

"I guess I'll have to give you full points for that tactic, Potter," commented Coldiron, "although I wouldn't count on being able to do anything similar to Lord Voldemort."

"I don't intend to," replied Harry. "We've had limited success shaking up his men, though. Jerry isn't directly involved in the high profile raids, but he's noticed a difference in the attitude among those who are."

"What sort of a difference?" asked Ron.

"They don't seem so eager to participate," replied Harry. "That used to be the way to get ahead in the Death Eaters. Now he says they'd like to hear some of the details of an assignment before joining in. I gathered that those in charge didn't so much ask for volunteers as pick them, so the general tactic has been to be out of sight as much as possible."

Did he have any specifics about these upcoming assignments?" asked Rufus. He, too, was perusing his handouts.

"A little," replied Harry. "His job is more involved with doing research than participating in actual missions. It turns out that he was the one who discovered the meaning behind the name 'Fortress of Solitude' for instance."

"It looks like you took away his best collaborator," noted Ron, who had been flipping through Rita's notes. "I don't know what they'll do without Mr. Fortescue."

"He was definitely their Hermione," agreed Harry. "Anyway, it was all a spur of the moment operation so I just asked what I thought were good questions; followed up any interesting bits and finally put him back in his chair."

"Why'd you release him?" asked Remus. Everyone became a little more attentive as they waited for the answer.

"Well," began Harry, putting his thoughts together, "he isn't a typical Death Eater. As far as I know, he doesn't actively engage in any of the attacks or other harmful activities. If I was going to let one go, he'd be the type. I also wanted to send a message to his friends."

"What message?" asked Honey.

"Several, actually," said Harry. "I wanted them to think that we know all about them; where they are; what they're doing; maybe even that we visit their strongholds on a regular basis; that sort of thing. And that we can come get them anytime we want. They'll know that we erased his memory of what information we actually got from him so they'll be racking their brains to try to remember any lapses in their own memories. Voldemort will probably be thinking along the same lines, as well. It may not be true, but it should shake them up a bit; wondering, and all."

"Maybe," said Rufus, thoughtfully, "maybe not. It will add to their confusion, at any rate." There were murmurs of agreement at this.

"There will be more than confusion," said Harry, sporting a mischievous grin.

"What do you mean?" asked Coldiron.

"What did you do?" asked the more experienced Hermione, with a certain amount of dread in her voice.

"Well," said Harry, "like I said, I wanted to make a statement."

Hermione dropped her head in her hands. Looking up, she signaled for him to continue.

"I decided to replace his arm," answered Harry. "When the other blokes see it, they'll all want one."

"Oh," said Hermione, sitting back up. "That's not so bad."

Ron further explained to those less in the know, "Voldemort's arms aren't very good. He doesn't take any time with them and you can spot them a mile away. Harry's look just like the real thing."

"Sowing the seeds of envy, eh, Harry?" asked Rufus.

"Just a few rows," replied Harry. "I also didn't have to use an axe to remove the old one. There might be some resentment thrown in, as well."

"I think," said Coldiron, "that there's a tale that I haven't heard."

"Please don't tell it now," requested Luna. "I _really_ don't want to have to relive that experience."

"I won't," agreed Harry. He paused while thinking before stating, "I suppose that, besides what's on the parchments, that's all I had for the first meeting. If there aren't any further questions or concerns, I'd like to give everyone a few minutes to look through Rita's notes to see if anything needs clarification. We'll start the next meeting at seven-thirty."

A few of the attendees flipped through their stack of parchments while others stood up and compared notes. One person, however, had a question; but not for Harry.

"What's up, Hammer?" asked Rufus as Professor Coldiron got his attention and led him a bit away from the rest of the group.

"I've noticed a few things," said Coldiron, quietly, "and had a question that I didn't think should be brought up with too large a group."

"Everyone in here has been cleared," said Rufus. "What's on your mind?"

"Well," explained the professor, "I was just wondering why Miss Lovegood is involved. What her purpose is."

"I thought you already knew that," said Rufus. "I know you were involved when she questioned that initial group of Death Eaters to determine their loyalties."

"I know she can tell if she's lied to," affirmed Coldiron. "It just seems that there must be more than that. When we questioned that Frenchman, he was petrified and there were a half dozen of us in there with him. Despite this, she was asked to remain outside of the cell, and even then, had a pair of guards. I noticed that she seemed to gain information from him without him having to say anything. Also..."

"Luna is very important, Hammer," said Rufus, quickly. "I'd feel better if we just left it at that." He gave Coldiron the 'Drop it' look and waited for the anticipated acknowledgment.

"I understand," said Coldiron, backing off. While expressing his concerns, he had also begun to come to the conclusion that this topic shouldn't be pursued with anyone else. Satisfied that his gut feeling that there was more to Luna than met the eye was accurate, he decided to let the details go.

"Hermione," said Poppy, after the younger witch had finished a brief conversation with Tonks concerning an interesting side comment from Knight which had been noticed.

"Yes?" replied Hermione, looking up from her chair. Although only needing her walker for journeys of greater than one hundred yards, now, she nevertheless tended to stay seated until compelled to move.

"Are you up to coming with Harry to tonight's werewolf curing?" asked the nurse. Hermione had not participated in that activity since the attack.

"Well," pondered Hermione, giving some thought to the subject and its implications. To aid in the blood transfer, she'd have to stand for up to five minutes. That was about her maximum without having Harry to lean on. There would also be a certain amount of shaking going on from Harry and the werewolf. "I suppose I wasn't planning on helping with that for another few days."

"You don't need to help," said Poppy. "I'd just like to give you a quick check and, uh, talk..." She trailed off while simultaneously looking around to see who might have been listening.

Deducing that either nurse / patient confidentiality or some other reason for discretion was involved, Hermione didn't pursue the subject. "I suppose that I could come along, then. Should we come early?" The normal time for performing the cure was nine o'clock on school nights.

"No," replied Poppy. "In fact, it would be better to have our discussion afterwards, anyway."

"Why is that?" asked Hermione, curiously.

"We'll talk about that tonight," replied Poppy, ominously. She said no more and, as one of those who had to leave anyway, left.

* * *

At Lord Voldemort's newest current main headquarters

"Is there anything you _haven't_ been working on?" asked Voldemort, scanning the list Jerry Knight had prepared. Although only listing the subjects, it went on for fourteen inches.

"Some of those were hardly worth mentioning, Lord," replied Knight. "I had only identified some possible sources for the toxins in the Brighton initiative, for example." Jerry Knight was nervous about this interview, especially considering his considerable involvement in the underlying investigation. He had worked with the upper level lieutenants in the organization and had even had a briefing or two with Lord Voldemort, himself, so he was not as terrified to the point of soiling himself, as would be the case with many of the other Death Eaters, if in his position. He was aware, however, that the most recent bug-out was due to the lost hour and twenty minutes he had experienced this morning. Upon his return and report of meeting Harry Potter, he was immediately subjected to every test imaginable this side of a body cavity search and it had been determined that something had happened that took quite a long time. With no way of determining what was discussed at the presumed interrogation, they had pulled up stakes and moved the Dark Lord's upper level staff back to one of the other occupied locations; in this case Seaton Ross. Once they were 'safe', the difficult task of determining the potential damages had begun. His short conversation with Potter had been watched at least a half-dozen times with a constant barrage of questions about the significance of the dart tournament; the particular variant played; the terms of the wagers; the strengths and weaknesses of the other players and finally, what possible interest the match could have had for Harry Potter. After that area had been exhausted, the reverse engineering approach of determining what _might_ have been revealed had begun; hence the list of current and recent operations that he had any knowledge of.

"Snape," said Voldemort.

"Yes, Master," responded Snape, subserviently.

"The scope of this list disturbs me," stated the Dark Lord. "Knight probably has a greater access to sensitive information than the average Death Eater, but even with no details at all, this list would be useful to my enemies. Pick ten men at random and have them prepare a similar document. I'd like to see what the average man could reveal and whether or not it might be advisable to erase the memories of those who are no longer involved in certain projects."

"Yes, Master," replied Snape, making a note.

"You have a comment, Knight?" asked Voldemort, coldly. He had noticed the expression that had quickly spread across Knight's face before being suppressed.

"Oh, no, Lord," responded Knight automatically. Having had a moment to think, he quickly amended, "I mean yes. It might be a good idea to erase the memories of some of the men; but in my case, as well as others involved in multiple areas of research, serendipity plays such a large role that removing blocks of information probably wouldn't be advisable."

"I haven't implemented anything, yet," replied Voldemort. "As you are already aware, I prefer to have a full understanding of all variables before making such a decision." He didn't particularly care to have one of his ideas questioned so quickly, but that was part of Knight's job, so he let it go. "Now, let's move on to your discussion with Lovegood."

* * *

Back in the Closet

"A little over a week ago," began Hermione, "we had the misfortune of entering one of Greyback's memories. It was a particularly brutal tale of four murders: two men, an older woman minister and a young girl. By the time we got to the little girl, I... ah, wasn't quite up to full speed, anymore, and we left before her murder. I hadn't regained enough nerve to finish or analyze the memory before I was injured in the attack at the jewelry shop. To be honest, I'd forgotten all about it until last night when John said nearly the same thing as Voldemort had during that expedition."

"John?" asked Rufus.

"He's a second year that Draco was tutoring," supplied Luna, "along with Marcia. I've sort of adopted them. Last night, we were working on a variant of the Wingardium Leviosa charm."

"Oh," replied Rufus.

"Right," said Hermione. "Anyway, Luna had suggested that they stop for the time being, but John wanted to try for a bit longer. As I mentioned, he said so in a very similar manner to the way Voldemort had and it jarred my memory. If what I suspect is true, we're in a much better position than we'd previously thought."

"What is it that you suspect?" asked Harry. Hermione hadn't previously discussed any of this with him; not wishing to muddy the waters of her stream of thought.

"I believe," said Hermione, slowly, "that our suspicions, or I should say Luna's suspicions that Voldemort would have attempted to replace any horcruxes that he'd discovered were lost are now highly likely to be true. I believe that these murders were attempts to do just that. We had suspected as much already, in fact, after reviewing the account more closely once Martha brought it to our attention. It made sense since there were four murders; one for each lost horcrux. If what I now suspect is true, he just stopped after four by coincidence. He might have planned to replace more than just the one, that night, but from the effort involved, he probably wouldn't have normally attempted to do them all in one go, anyway."

"So why do you believe that he was unsuccessful?" asked Ron.

"For one thing," explained Hermione, "he kept ramping them up. The first man was killed with the Avada Kedavra. The next one had his throat slit. The minister was stabbed through the heart while she was praying."

"Good God!" exclaimed Minerva, covering her face. "And you witnessed all of this? No wonder you were upset." She shook involuntarily to loose the imagined images from her mind.

"We didn't see any of the murders," corrected Harry. "We heard them and saw the bodies afterward. It was still pretty horrific."

"I guess so," agreed Honey.

"Just before the last murder," continued Hermione, "the one of the girl... No, wait. It was just after he killed the minister. Anyway, Voldemort said something very strange. Greyback had suggested calling it a night, but Voldemort said, 'I'd like to try one more time. I think I was close, this time. Perhaps...' Then he thought a bit before saying, 'Yes, I think that's what's needed. Take her away and return with a child. A young girl.' I believe the comment indicates that he failed to that point. In the past, he just needed to murder someone and that's how he started out. The first two men didn't seem to have any special characteristics; they were just handy, but the second one definitely died harder than the first. The minister was specifically requested. He even said he wanted someone who was 'good'. After her murder, he made the 'getting close' comment and ramped it up to a little girl. He wanted to make the final two murders particularly evil since he was having trouble dividing his soul."

"I wonder why that would be," wondered Honey. "He's certainly had enough practice. Why would he have trouble, all of a sudden?"

"I think it's because he isn't working from his original soul," suggested Luna, thoughtfully. All eyes, but especially Harry's and Hermione's, turned her way to hear her explanation. "Don't you see? When he made his original horcruxes, he was breaking off pieces of his full soul. When he attacked Harry as a baby, that part of his soul was lost to him. The only pieces he has left are the fragments that he placed in the horcruxes. Perhaps they can't be divided any further."

Everyone thought on this for a few seconds. Finally, Hermione said, "We can try to figure out what went wrong if we need to, but the important information is that he wasn't able to make another horcrux."

"How do you know that he didn't succeed with the girl?" asked Minerva. "Did the original account give any further details?"

"No," replied Hermione. "He just made the final attempt and they left after that. Voldemort didn't make any other statements, either way."

"We'll have to finish that memory," said Harry. "The inflections and stray sounds; the timing and attitudes of both of them need to be reviewed."

"I know," replied Hermione, despondently. "I'm not looking forward to that little trip; not at all." She took a deep breath and paid the price with a short burst of coughs.

"Perhaps you shouldn't try to return to that memory, just yet," suggested Luna. "You're still recovering from a terrible wound, after all."

"It's important," responded Hermione. "If what I suspect is true, only one horcrux would remain hidden. I agree that we could move forward on that hunch without confirmation for awhile, but having it resolved might open up other courses of action to find it that might present themselves."

"I agree," said Ron. "Once the pendulum is secured, we'll have all of them accounted for except the one. If nothing turns up at any of the other sites we're checking, we could try to spook Voldemort out of his hole and get him to lead us to it."

"Wouldn't he just hide it somewhere else?" asked Honey. She looked around to see if anyone thought it was a stupid question. It didn't appear that way, but her hormonally augmented insecurities were fully engaged.

"He might," agreed Harry, "assuming he was successful at recovering it without us knowing about it or preventing us from taking it away from him if we did. Then again, he's also learned to hide them in easier locations. It might work in our favor to have him move it for us. In the end, Hermione's right. It is important to know if that would be the lot of them. The moment the location of the last horcrux is known, we would be able to attack. Even if it's in his pocket, if we killed the part of him that's walking around, the other horcruxes could be done at our convenience."

"So the next step," said Hermione, "is to view the rest of that memory. I've seen most of it before, so I'm sure I'll be fine."

"You weren't fine after the first time you witnessed those murders," commented Luna. "Perhaps... maybe I should go in your place. I, ah..." She faded off, trying to regain her nerve.

"I should probably be the one to view it," said Tonks. "I'm an auror and all, and should be able to handle that sort of thing objectively."

"Oh, _right_," said Remus, sarcastically. "Why you're known far and wide for your..."

"Knock it off," ordered Tonks. "I can handle it. In fact, I'll prove it to you if you'll... you'll come with me?" Her inflective change at the end suggested that she would really appreciate it if he came along for the ride."

"Of course I will," replied Remus, taking her hand. "That memory was bad enough just reading about it. From what's been said tonight, we'll both need each other's help to get through it."

"I've got a better idea," said Rufus, gruffly. "I'll do it. I've seen things that... well, let's say I'm used to it; at least as much as you can get used to that sort of thing. I should be able to get the information you want without losing too much sleep."

"Minister," protested Tonks, "You're..."

"I'm the only one here who's seen what a madman can do to a child," interrupted Rufus. "I don't mean like those killed with the wrecking of the Hogwarts Express. I mean... up close and personal. I can do this. I have a special place for such... memories. I can handle them."

No one spoke. After a moment, Harry walked around the table and put his hand on Rufus' shoulder. "Thanks, Rufus," he said. He knew what a difficult offer it had been to make. Harry had also seen some horrible things. Hell, he had _done_ some pretty horrible things, but it was different with a child; harder to accept. Both he and the Minister remained silent as Harry returned to his chair.

"Luna," said Harry, sitting back down as he changed the subject. "How many of the known sites do you have left to check for hidden... things." He smiled at the vagueness of his question.

"About eighteen, I think," replied Luna, looking up as she scanned her memory.

"You've been able to do three or four per weekend, I believe," stated Harry, implicitly asking for confirmation.

"At least four, so far," responded Luna. "Once we did five."

"Excellent," said Harry. "That should speed up the time it takes for the horcrux searches if we don't have to waste time checking for anything else. I think we'll have hit all the likely spots by Christmas."

"What do we do if nothing turns up?" asked Remus.

"We start checking the unlikely spots," answered Hermione.

* * *

Back at Seaton Ross

Jerry Knight stood in front of the hallway mirror just outside of his quarters. He was wearing just his undershirt and pajama bottoms; his normal attire for this time and place. At first glance, it might have seemed like he was practicing for a bodybuilding competition, despite his obvious lack of qualifications in such an endeavor. In truth, however, his repetitive bending of his elbow and flexing of his muscles, such as they are, were part of a new research project that he had initiated himself. The subject matter was apparently new and interesting enough to attract a small group of his friends who wished to observe his efforts.

"I can't even see the seam," commented Geordie, looking at the pale biceps. "Does it feel any different from one side to the other?"

Jerry finished writing down his original observations before answering, "You can tell the old from the new. The texture," at this point, he slid his finger along the upper arm down to the elbow, "is quite a bit different. You can also feel the muscles and bones up by the shoulder. The lower arm is more like a soft rubber than anything." He held out his arm for Geordie to touch.

"It's warm," commented Geordie in surprise. At this, Tom and Barry both gathered closer to verify this information.

"It _is_," agreed Barry.

"How about touch?" asked Tom. The silver arms worked well enough, but it always felt like you had gloves on, even when bare-handed.

"That's about the same," replied Jerry, running his fingers along the edge of a nearby chair. "Maybe a bit better than before."

His friends watched quietly as Jerry wrote down some of these new observations.

"You're lucky," said Barry, disgruntledly. "Lois won't let me touch her with this thing." He held aloft his silver arm as if anyone had any confusion about which _thing _he was talking about.

"Well, they're damn cold," said Tom. "I find that out, myself, if I'm not thinking when I have to take a pee." They all agreed.

"So why do you think he _really_ did it?" asked Geordie.

"No idea," responded Jerry. He walked over and sat on a two-seater by the bathroom. Geordie and Tom also found chairs while Barry contented himself with leaning against the wall. "It was _not _what I would have expected from a meeting with Harry Potter."

"That's for sure," agreed Tom. "I wonder..." He stopped, abruptly.

"What?" asked Geordie. Everyone looked for Tom to continue.

"Nothing," said Tom, nervously.

Jerry looked around carefully, before leaning in and asking, in a voice much quieter than before, "You're wondering if the Dark Lord could have made our arms this well, aren't you?"

"Ah, yes," agreed Tom, smiling. "That's it."

"I don't think that was _it _at all," countered Barry. "You were wondering if you could get Harry P..."

"Shh," shushed Jerry and Geordie, simultaneously. All of them checked around to see if they had been overheard. "We shouldn't talk about it out here," declared Jerry. "I don't think we should discuss it at all. Nothing to be gained. I was just lucky. Leave it at that."

Everyone looked around one last time before nodding their collective heads. If they had been overheard... With mutual acknowledgment of their collective carelessness, they all returned to their rooms.

* * *

In the Hospital Wing

"Finished," declared Harry, dispassionately. He waited, as usual, for Madam Pomfrey to confirm what he already knew; Prudence Guress, an affable fifty-something witch of sturdy build, was no longer a werewolf. She was also no longer conscious.

"Grab an arm, Mr. Delbruck," she commanded, taking the one closest to herself.

Hans Delbruck, the latest forced observer of _The Cure_, took a deep breath to calm himself before complying. Together, they half carried, half dragged the sixteen stone lass over to the prepared hospital bed and lifted her gently into place, albeit in a sitting position.

"Enervate," cast Poppy. The younger witch grunted awake.

"Oh, my head," she moaned, reaching for her cranium.

Poppy held back her arms and placed the first iron replenishing potion in her hands. "Drink this down." Turning to Delbruck, she said, "You'll probably have to help her. She has to finish it all plus two more as quickly as possible." She indicated the remaining flasks already in place on the night stand.

"Come along, my dear," encouraged the kindly man. "You'll have plenty of time to rest after you've finished."

Miss Guress obediently began to drink her medicine. Her continued weakness, however, was there for all to see. After she had finished the vial, Delbruck took it from her hands and placed the next to her lips. He had decided to help her with it until some of the weight had diminished.

In the meantime, Harry had walked over and sat next to his wife.

"What's the matter?" he asked, noticing her mood.

"Nothing," replied Hermione. "I just have a good guess as to why Poppy wanted to see me, tonight."

"I thought she wanted to give you a check-up," said Harry, giving the official reason for the visit.

"She does," replied Hermione, noting that that was also a viable, and quite probable concurrent purpose, as well.

"Then why..." began Harry, before realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere. Deciding to do something positive, he simply put his arm around his wife. His wife, deciding that this was a good thing, snuggled into him as they waited for their appointment.

"Step into my office, please," requested the nurse after about ten minutes had passed. She had attended to the needs of her latest patient and had finally been able to tuck her in before beginning her meeting with the Potters.

Harry helped Hermione to her feet. Her walker, although placed among the ever increasing list of items made summonable, was currently not necessary. Slowly, but not as slow as a day or so earlier, they made their way to their seats, just inside the door. Poppy closed that door behind them and took her position on a small stool to Hermione's left.

At first, she asked no questions, but simply waved her wand to gather the normal, routine readings. Noting each on her clipboard, she then said, "Breathe deeply," while casting a different series of spells. Hermione complied as best she could, but ended up coughing slightly after just a few seconds.

"That's enough," said Poppy, stopping for a moment. After Hermione calmed down, she asked, "How have you been feeling?"

"Well," began Hermione, thinking, "I'm starting to get used to the way things feel now. It still feels funny when I walk, but I'm not as unsteady as I was. I still don't get any feedback from the right side of my left foot, but that's becoming less of an issue."

"That's good," replied Poppy. "Have you tried the stairs, yet?"

"Not yet," replied Hermione, honestly. "I've given it some thought, though. I think the stairs just south of the library that lead down to the courtyard would be good for practice." Those steps were divided up into groups of four or five with a generous landing at each level.

"That would be a good choice," agreed Poppy. "Any other issues or concerns?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "I'm concerned about the same thing you are." At this point, she glanced harshly at Harry, who flinched.

"So you noticed, then," stated Poppy, nodding her head.

"It was hard to miss," confirmed Hermione. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since last Friday morning," answered Poppy. "I thought it would be best to talk it over with the both of you."

"I appreciate that," said Hermione. Turning to face a thoroughly confused Harry, she asked, "Would you care to explain yourself?"

"Could you give me a clue as to what you're talking about?" answered Harry. He had been left by the roadside several sentences ago.

"Your cures," replied Hermione. "I seem to remember them being a bit longer and more stressful."

"I'm sorry if I didn't suffer enough for you," replied Harry, almost immediately regretting his tone.

"I'm afraid that the amount of suffering has remained the same," interjected Poppy. At both Harry's and Hermione's looks, she explained, "The ease; well, let me say the_ relative_ ease of these past few cures for Harry has also seen a sharp increase in the debilitation and recovery time for the werewolves. For those who required a youth potion, the stay in my hospital has increased by over a full day."

"Will there be any lasting effects?" asked Harry, concerned.

Poppy thought for a few seconds before stating, "I don't believe so. It might take up to a week to fully recover, now, but they should be fine in the long run."

"I'm happy that your recklessness hasn't hurt anyone else," said Hermione, "but it's you that I'm most worried about."

"Me?" asked Harry. "I've felt a bit guilty since it's actually easier for me, this way."

"In the short run," agreed Hermione, "it_ is_ easier. The long term consequences are what I'm talking about. You do realize that you're trading part of your life to make things easier now, don't you?"

"Just a little bit," replied Harry.

"You don't know that," retorted Hermione.

"What are you talking about?" asked Poppy. She knew something had changed, but had no idea of the seriousness.

Hermione glanced at Harry to see if he wished to explain. At his gesture, she said, "Harry normally uses love to increase the power of his spells. I'm not sure if that's related to his tears or not, since emotions are involved with both. What we're talking about is another way to enhance magic that is much more powerful. I'm unsure if it is possible for others, but Harry can also use up part of his life force to increase the power and effectiveness of his magic. Unlike love, though, you only have so much life in you. When it's used up..."

"You die," finished Poppy, understanding. "Oh, Harry." She looked at him with worry filling her face.

"I don't think I'm using that much," argued Harry. "We have over seventy werewolves waiting to be cured. I hadn't wanted to bring it up, but that's been weighing on me a lot, lately. I don't want to be knackered for half of the day for the next couple of months. By using this technique, I'm back to normal in no time."

"And how my additional years of widowhood are you handing to me?" asked Hermione, hotly. "Seventy more werewolves, you say; if we're lucky. Will that use up five years? Ten? Fifty?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "If it makes you feel better, it's nothing compared to the amount I used to save... when you were injured. I can sort of tell the amount. I only use a tiny bit for these cures, I promise."

"But why?" asked Poppy. "I understand that it's hard the other way, but at least you aren't shortening your life, however much."

"I can't keep it up," declared Harry, forcefully. "That's what I've been trying to get across to you two. I thought I could cure everyone the same way, but it's so hard. I'd been dreading starting up, again, after Hermione got back here. After Hermione was safe, again, it was almost like a vacation for me. With months more cures to do, I just wanted to find another way."

"I can understand that," said Hermione, putting her hand on his arm. "I just wish you'd discussed it with me, first."

"Like you'd have gone along with it," grunted Harry with a laugh.

"I might have," replied Hermione, noncommitally. "Well, if you're sure you aren't using up much, and if doing it the other way is so much harder than it looks; I'm not sure I believe that part, then I suppose I'll have to accept your judgement."

"Thanks," said Harry, giving her a quick kiss on her cheek. "Now, since we're agreed, I'd like to increase the schedule. It only takes me a few minutes to recover, now. When's the next full moon?"

"The fourteenth," replied Hermione, instantly.

"The fourteenth," repeated Harry. "That means to do all seventy by the start of the change, we should do, uh..." He tried to do the math in his head.

"Six per day," finished Hermione. She didn't look happy with that number.

"Six per day," repeated Harry, again. "How about two before classes; two just after and two more before bed?"

"I'm going to need some help," said Poppy, thinking. "At least one healer's assistant plus a potions master to help me keep up. I don't think Rolly would have time for that many extra potions."

"Hire whoever you need," said Harry. "Winky."

"What can Winky be doing for Master?" asked Winky.

"Go to Gringotts sometime tomorrow and bring Madam Pomfrey a few thousand galleons," said Harry. He looked back towards the nurse and asked, "What do you think? Five thousand?"

"I'm sure that would be more than enough," replied Poppy; surprised at the amount and lack of concern on Harry's face at the offer.

"Five thousand, then, Winky," ordered Harry.

"Yes, Master," confirmed Winky. She popped off.

"Well," said Harry, "is there anything else?" He looked around.

"I don't think so," replied Poppy, checking her shelves. "I should have enough potions to last until arrangements for help are made."

"That's good," said Hermione. "Let us know if you need anything or anyone else." Now that she had signed off on the dangerous turn in treatments, she wanted it all to go as well as possible.

"I will," said Poppy. "Oh, wait. I have one last thing to check." Pulling her wand, she scanned Hermione's chest. "Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable or painful." She then proceeded with the exam.

"I can feel some pressure," replied Hermione after a few seconds.

"Does it hurt?" asked Poppy, pausing.

"No," replied Hermione. "It just feels funny."

Poppy continued with the pressure check. Checking for damage after she had finished, she said, "It seems that the stitches have done their job. There shouldn't be any more leaks from the internal wounds."

"That's good news," said Hermione.

"I'll say," said Harry.

"Better than you might think," said Poppy, a smile curling her lips. "It means that, with caution and gentleness, the two of you can resume... relations."

"Relations?" asked Harry, unfamiliar with the old-fashioned term.

"I'll explain in a minute," said Hermione, smiling. "Good night, Poppy. Pop us back to our bedroom, Harry."

"What's..." began Harry.

"Now!" ordered Hermione.

Harry obeyed, leaving a chuckling Poppy in his wake.

* * *

Author's Note:

There's two reasons for the delay. One, I'm getting older. In the past two years, I've only had one stretch of about four months where we haven't been on seven day weeks. It's starting to catch up to me.

On the good side, the other reason is that I wrote two chapters. I get the bug, sometimes, to write a pivital chapter. It's all I can think about. I wrote the first chapter of The Prophecy a year or so ago (it's coming up soon) and I just wrote the final chapter of the story (not counting the epilog). It was all I could think of now that we're getting close, so I had to write it in order to move on.

Dad


	130. Chapter 130

Chapter 130 - Working out the Details

December 2nd, 1997

"Vernon. There is being a muggle who is being wanting..."

"Dang it, Karl!" shouted Vernon, shutting down his lathe for the fourth time that morning. "How in the bloody hell do you expect me to ever finish with this bloody shaft if you keep bloody interrupting me every ten bloody minutes?"

"Is Vernon wanting Karl to be telling the muggle to be going away, Vernon?" asked Kreacher.

Vernon pulled a dirty red rag from his back pocket and wiped his brow. "No," he answered, resignedly. "I'd better come and talk with him." He had some thinking to do before he could continue, anyway. An unexpected problem had come up; namely, the rather large wobble of the shaft when spinning at the relatively low speed of 200 RPM. He had anticipated such a characteristic as being a non-issue with a swinging, rather than rotating shaft, but he was having second thoughts. He could balance the shaft easily enough, but the implied flexibility made its suitability for pendulum duty uncertain. With his problem evading an easy solution, he left to attend to simpler duties.

* * *

Later that morning

Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgoeur sat at his desk; thinking. It wasn't what he would prefer to be doing, just now; quite the opposite, in fact, but it was something that needed to be attended to. A little over an hour earlier, he had entered the Ministry pensieve that he had had brought to his office. The memory through which he had journeyed had been replaced in its vial and sat on the front edge of his desk. Rufus had spent some time contemplating what he had seen and was now trying to put those images behind his once formidable screen of professionalism. Wasn't that why he had volunteered for this assignment in the first place? Unfortunately, the walls separating his emotions from certain parts of the horrors of the world had been weakened. His age and lack of daily exposure had contributed to this lessening of his defenses, to be sure. Most of his problems right now, however, were due to his devotion to a little girl currently having her morning nap at Westminster Primary School No. 14. She and the other little girl in the memory weren't all that different. Greta was slightly younger, of course, but not so much as to help. He had seen the mother walk off after checking on her daughter that one last time. He could feel in his heart the way _her_ heart would break when she discovered her missing. There would have been a panicked search followed by a call to the muggle aurers. Hours, and then days, would go by. She'd never find out what had happened, of that he was sure. When the body of the little girl had been dragged out with the others, Greyback had been ordered to dispose of the lot of them. He accomplished this with the expected Evanesco spell, of course. No bodies. No clues. No closure for any of the families of the victims. Thankfully, a knock on the door allowed the chance for a distraction. With a wave of his wand, he unlocked and opened the door.

"Morning, Rufus," said Jack as he entered the room. "What's up?" Jack Dawlish had been summoned to the office of the Minister of Magic by means of a short message to his badge about five minutes ago. His normally jovial demeanor with his old friend vanished as he caught sight of the Minister's face.

"I've..." began Rufus before having to halt. He hadn't said anything since his return from the squalid house in the pensieve and the emotions seeking a release almost burst out. By remaining silent and still; clearing his mind of all thought; Rufus was able to calm himself. Jack had seen this before; most notably for the first few months after the deaths of his daughter and son-in-law. He waited.

"I want you to deliver something for me," began Rufus, again. "Take that bottle back to Minerva for me. Tell her..." He had to stop, again.

Jack picked up the vial while he waited. He had noticed the pensieve setting on the side table when he had entered and put two and two together. "Must've been a rough one," he commented, putting the vial into an inside pocket of his robes.

"You've got that right," replied Rufus, using one of Jack's favorite catch-phrases. "Tough watching it." He thought a moment more before asking, "Do me a favor, Jack. When this is all over; if I'm not around, that is, I'd like for you to take a look at that memory and see if you can identify any of the victims. I'd like for their families to... to be notified that they're dead and not just missing. The uncertainty, you know."

"From your mood," said Jack, lightly, yet consolingly, "I think I'd better make sure you _are_ around when this is all over."

Rufus grunted his agreement with a half of a grin. Jack always did know how to pull him out of a funk. "Anyway," he said, "tell Minerva to tell Harry that they're right. He wasn't successful."

Jack nodded. Turning towards the door, he paused as Rufus got up from his chair and followed him. "Any particular reason you're not making this trip yourself?"

"I'm busy," said Rufus, opening the door to his outer office. "Percy!"

"Yes, Minister," replied Percy Weasley, rising at once from his desk.

"Reschedule my eleven o'clock appointment with Smythe," ordered the Minister of Magic.

"Yes, sir," replied Percy, checking the Minister's appointment calendar. "Would Wednesday at two be satisfactory?"

Rufus thought a moment before saying, "That'll be soon enough. Bloody wick maker's union won't be happy until we outlaw oil lamps entirely." He made his way into the hallway outside of his outer office.

"So what came up?" asked Jack as he followed. It wasn't like Rufus to cancel a scheduled meeting unless it was pretty important.

"Uh, nothing much," said Rufus. "I just wanted to go to Greta's school and, you know, watch her for awhile. Make sure she's okay and all that." He never really looked directly at Jack while saying all this.

Jack walked silently beside his friend for a few more steps before asking, "I really don't want to watch this memory, do I?" He was giving Rufus one more chance to get it off his chest.

"No," replied Rufus, "you don't." Without elaborating further, he took the lift to the lobby while Jack found a floo to deliver his message.

* * *

Lunch with the Dark Lord

"Ve 'air ready to begin the, how you say, _alteration_ of ze sheep," stated Michel as he thickened the coating of butter on his roll. Taking a bite, he added, "Buff 'erith a pwobel."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," snapped Snape, a moment before the Dark Lord could react for himself.

Michel didn't accelerate his chewing, but motioned for his brother to continue in his place.

"We 'ave run into a problem," said Camille, thinking. "More than one, I think. Virst, we 'ave so far vound nine fairms that supply ze sheep. Zere may be others; we do not yet know."

"That could make it difficult to have the correct sheep prepared," concluded Airins, "especially on a daily basis." He took only a second, however, to offer some hope. "Unless," he added, coming out of one of his quick, yet deep moments in thought, "unless, they use some sort of a clearinghouse. It's unlikely that they'd have nine different schedules for the daily delivery of a couple of dozen sheep. There must be some centralized coordination."

"It would seem to make zense," agreed Michel, "but ve 'ave yet to prove zuch a ding exhists. Only at ze boat do ze sheep from the many fairms take ze same path."

"The boat?" asked Lord Voldemort.

"Ze animal boat," explained Camille. "They put ze sheep on a larsh boat each morning and take zem to Muck."

"How long does the trip take?" asked Rookwood.

"I 'ave no idea," replied Camille.

"Find out," ordered Voldemort, gruffly. "It would seem that that would be the most dependably available location to administer the potions."

"Quite correct, my Lord," agreed Snape. "It would also eliminate the chance of error."

"I'm sure they'll find a way," muttered Voldemort, under his breath. Louder, he asked, "I believe you mentioned other problems?"

"Oh, qui," replied Michel. "Ze ingredients for zese potions; we air having a difficult time finding zem in larsh amounts. Ve 'ave bought all of ze boral weed from three stores, for example, and it is only enough for zeven days."

"Borgin is usually our source for unusual items," noted Rookwood. "He has more than his share of sources and could probably help you out."

"Who is these Borgin?" asked Camille.

"He's a merchant on Knockturn Alley," answered Snape. "I'll introduce you. It might take him a week or so, but he should be able to secure almost anything you need, in any quantity."

"There's always the option," added Voldemort, "of gathering just enough ingredients for a couple of weeks. In most cases, we'd have enough forewarning to carry out the plan before initiating any major attack."

"Quite true, my Lord," replied Snape. "Do you wish to proceed with that assumption?"

"Not just yet," replied Voldemort. "See what Borgin can arrange. Also," at this point, he addressed the brothers, "try a few test runs using substitute potions that won't be detected as having been used on the dragons. I want all of the kinks worked out before we do it for real."

"Of course," replied Michel. Remembering something, he said, "Zat reminds me, ah, Lord. Zere aire two groups of zese dragons on Muck. It zeems as if only one of zem aire friends of Pottaire. It vood be difficult to only have ze one group poisoned."

"It doesn't matter if they're all killed," responded Voldemort, nonchalantly. "It might be better that way. If Potter should somehow survive the attack after they are killed, he wouldn't have replacements at hand."

"I understand," replied Michel, tentatively. "I vas only conzerned about the additional potions needed. Perhaps zis; who did you say, Borgin, will provide us vith enough for both herds."

"Until proved otherwise," replied Voldemort, "we shall have to work on that assumption. If not, I believe an alternative has already been suggested."

"Of course," replied Michel. He continued with his lunch, having finished with his part in the discussion.

"How is _your_ plan proceeding?" asked Voldemort, glancing at Airins.

"Fairly well, Master," answered Airins, calmly. "We're gathering quite a bit of data on the officials you specified. So far, only some _tendencies _have been observed, rather than predictably scheduled activities. Ogle, for example, rests at almost every available bench while traveling on foot, but he doesn't have any favorite destinations, with the possible exception of the Leaky Cauldron. That's a bit too public, though. Scrimgeour, of course, travels every other night to visit his mistress at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, he does so by floo. Not much help there. He also eats with his granddaughter on school days. There's a minimum of four guards while they're together, but simply using a large force should take care of that problem, when the time comes."

"Very good," replied Voldemort. "It's probably a bit early to make any specific plans, but remember that I'll want all of them to be compromised, one way or the other, within an hour of each other."

"I'll remember, Lord," replied Airins. "If I may ask a question?" He waited for the response, unsure as to how the request would go down. On any given day, the tolerance level for questions could change dramatically.

"Yes?" asked Voldemort. Today was apparently a good day.

"Do you have any sort of a date in mind?" asked Airins. "I mean we could gather more information for weeks if we wished to. I'm just wondering what sort of a schedule you've got in mind."

"Gather your information, Airins," replied Voldemort. "I don't anticipate moving on any sort of a major offensive until at least early spring. I can see no reason for Potter to leave the protection of Hogwarts during a battle. The winter weather in northern Scotland would work to his advantage. I also have another project to pursue before returning to business as usual."

"Another project?" asked Airins, conversationally.

"Yes," replied the Dark Lord. "It might involve you, as well. These interviews that Lovegood has suggested might work out well for my recruitment goals. Despite the apparent knowledge that Potter has of when and where they would take place, having a young and bright man or two present a positive image of life as a Death Eater could only help us persuade some other young and bright individuals to consider joining. You might work out well for that duty."

"I appreciate your confidence, my Lord," responded Airins, "but it might be too dangerous for me to participate." At Voldemort's look of annoyance, he explained, "What I mean, Lord, is that I'm heavily involved in the plot against one of his most effective allies. We still have no idea what information he got out of Knight, but at least using Knight for the next phase wouldn't provide another source with, perhaps, different information. I'd recommend that you limit the interviews to just him, for the time being."

Voldemort considered this. Airins was the poster boy for rising through the ranks at a relatively young age, but he was also correct that he now knew perhaps too much to be allowed to be caught. "I believe you might be right, Airins; on both counts. For this first interview, Knight shall represent my men to the press."

Snape studied Airins surreptitiously for a few moments. He was the least senior of the upper level lieutenants and had only been given his first moderately difficult task, but he was quite eager to please and had proceeded with both intelligence, competence and subtlety. He also provided good counsel when asked. Even when _not _asked, if it came to it. He'd have to keep an eye on this young; make that younger, rival.

* * *

Back at Gunderson's Machining and Small Engine Repair.

"Here we go," muttered Vernon Dursley to himself. "Let's see; the span is... nine and one-quarter inches, center to center." He wrote that number on a piece of scratch paper. "The inside breadth is an even three inches..." That was also recorded. "...and the bore for each hole takes a three-quarter inch bolt with a, let's see... Probably..." He checked the parts list. "Yes; fine threads, so that would be sixteen count." All of the data was recorded on the scrap paper. Under normal circumstances, he's write any relevant information right on the prints, but since these were some of the original copies that were used to build the clock, itself, he treated them like historical documents.

"What is Vernon being making?" asked Karl, after returning from the Hogwarts kitchens with his and Vernon's lunches. He had been looking at the sketches lying on the bench. He had learned enough as Vernon's assistant to know that it didn't look anything like a pendulum.

"It's going to be a machine," explained Vernon, "that will make the clock work without the pendulum. "This thingy here," he pointed at a spot on the blueprints, "moves back and forth one cycle every two seconds. Normally, the pendulum is what moves it and keeps the clockworks spinning at the right speed. I'm going to take that motor over there," at this point, he indicated a three horsepower blower motor setting in the corner, "and run it through a reducer gearbox so that the shaft turns once every two seconds. This thingy I'm working on now will attach to a wheel that will move it back and forth at the right speed. Bloody hell; I need to know the stroke, as well." He went back to the prints to look up the required information.

"Why is Vernon being making a machine to do what the pendulum is already being doing, Vernon?" asked Karl.

"I need to bring the original back here and run some tests on it," explained Vernon. "As far as I know, it wobbles just as bad as the one on the lathe. I doubt it, though. It doesn't really matter. Once I get it here, I can make the other one just like it... I hope."

* * *

Later that afternoon, during the last class period of the day.

"This way, Poppy," said McGonagall as she turned left at the top of the steps, walking with her nurse around the corner towards the Charms classroom. "They'd normally have another thirty minutes in class, but I wouldn't want to delay Healer Sojourn that long in returning to his hospital. Besides, Hermione most likely already understands the lesson and Harry; well, Harry probably wouldn't, anyway." Both she and Poppy laughed at the truth in the statement. Minerva knocked once on the door before letting herself in.

"Prof...," she began, before stopping. The room was empty. Well, empty of students. Their bags and books remained, but the people they belonged to were missing.

"Now where is everybody?" asked McGonagall, at a loss. She checked the door to make sure she had the right room. She had.

"Just a minute, Minerva," said Poppy, hearing something. She entered the room and looked out the east window. "I've found them." She signaled for Minerva to join her.

Looking down, for the most part, and just out in the case of Harry, they saw a small class of older students standing around a large red and gold dragon wearing goggles and a huge scarf. The scarf blew majestically in the stiff breeze while it could be observed that the goggles had been propped up on the dragon's forehead. Through the panes of glass, the thrilling strains of the Sea Hawk could be heard. The dragon was attempting, with limited success, to direct the phantom orchestra. Professor Flitwick was standing off to the side while Hermione tapped the large medallion hanging around Dragon Harry's neck, stopping the music. She then used her wand as a pointer as she apparently began to explain something. Dragon Harry, having not had time to get to his favorite part, tapped the medallion three times, restarting the overture. Hermione, with a disgruntled look on her face, poked the dragon with her wand, hard. Instantly, Harry Potter reappeared and fell over backwards. Taking a second to tell him something, Hermione then returned to her lecture as Harry crossed his arms in irritation.

"It seems that both Harry and Hermione are needed for this lesson, Poppy," deduced McGonagall. "Do you think Healer Sojourn would be able to spare enough time for them to finish?"

"I'd guess he could," said Poppy. "From the reaction I got when I asked for some recommendations for healer's assistants this morning, he's more than eager to help. He and the others might take a while to check out Cindy, Sophia and Adrian, anyway."

"Very well," said Minerva, nodding in agreement. "Monty."

"You require something, Headmistress?" asked Monty.

"Yes," replied McGonagall. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter are just outside with the Charms class. Hermione is giving some sort of a talk. When she and Harry are available, notify them to meet us in the Hospital Wing."

"Very good, Mistress," said Monty and popped off.

* * *

Knockturn Alley - Borgin and Burkes Curiosity Shoppe

Snape led his group through the grime-covered door and into the premier depository of enchanted, cursed and otherwise questionable items in England. They made up quite the crowd, composed as they were of Severus Snape, himself; his regular two guards; the brothers Vicieux-Salauds; and, of course, the member of the elite squad of marble bearers that accompanied any group that went out into public. Looking around, Snape determined that they were currently the only customers in the store. Flipping over the OPEN / CLOSED sign hanging in the window, he pulled out his wand and locked the door.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Snape," said Borgin, coming out from the back room. "I see you've brought some new faces with you." He glanced about at them all, but lingered the longest on Michel and Camille.

"Borgin," replied Snape, tiredly, in his version of a greeting. "Yes. This is Michel and Camille Vicieux-Salauds. They have recently joined with the Dark Lord's forces and could use your services."

"I see," replied Borgin, surprisingly upping his level of apparent eagerness to help. "How may I be of assistance?" He had made a great deal of money with his dealings with the Dark Lord and his minions, but he knew that fulfilling their needs wasn't so much of a goal as a requirement.

"They have need of some fairly common items," answered Snape, as he glanced around the shop, "but in uncommon quantities." He motioned for Camille to continue with the details.

"'ere is ze leest," said Camille, handing a small, neatly printed parchment to the merchant.

Borgin looked over the items for just a second before commenting, "You don't have any amounts on this."

"Ve vill 'ave to be vaiting to see 'ow much you vill be able to, how you say, supply, before ve vill be making that decishiown," explained Michel. " Vor now, assume ve vill want as much as you aire able to acquire."

"I see," muttered Borgin, scratching his chin as he ran through his list of suppliers in his mind. "Could you give me the relative amounts needed?" At the confused looks coming from the Frenchmen, he added, "Just so I don't waste time finding a source for a ton of Wink Down per week if it would take a month to come up with a pint of Moon Shower."

Michel glanced at Snape for an opinion. Given the ingredients and their proportions, it would be possible to eventually determine their intended use. Borgin had long proven his discretion, however, so Snape gave a quick nod of consent before turning to examine the sales floor for anything new or interesting.

"This way, gentlemen," said Borgin before leading the brothers to a small table in back where they could discuss the list in detail.

As Snape meandered through the aisles, he pondered the wisdom of the particular aspect of the plan of which he was now facilitating. While previously average, leaning towards mediocre, Potter had of late demonstrated two characteristics. Grudgingly, Snape had to admit that the first; a nearly infinite loyalty to his friends and loved ones, had existed all along. He assumed that was probably due to the nearly legendary mistreatment he received from his blood relatives. Having had virtually no acceptance or love for the majority of the first eleven years of his life, he would have naturally been extraordinarily appreciative to anyone who befriended him. That wasn't a problem in particular, though. It was, however, the catalyst through which the second emerging trait became the most pronounced. While still doubting that the subtlety of magic had finally revealed itself to his former student, he had apparently found a way to harness its power. This was proven with several incidents that involved the injury, or threat of such, to his wife and friends. In almost all cases, those initiating the attacks paid for it with their lives. These dragons that his master wished to eliminate, despite being highly effective against the Death Eaters in their own right, might just unleash a whirlwind of reprisals with their deaths. The Dark Lord, however, believed that the elimination of Potter's most powerful allies could only serve to help his side. To Snape, it was a coin flip.

Finding that his wandering mind had led him to the back of the store, he was about to return to the more populated area when a box of dinnerware caught his eye. It was one of several items in this corner of the building that was apparently waiting to be sorted and displayed, but Snape had a sense of recognition. Reaching down, he pulled out an older goblet wrought of silver with onyx ornamentation. Verifying his identification, he quickly sought out Borgin. He had an entirely new set of questions for him.

* * *

In the hall just outside of the Men's werewolf dormitory

"Could I have your attention," said Hermione, waving her arms to get their attention. An impromptu meeting of the eighty-seven remaining werewolves had been called and everyone was excitedly trying to determine what it could all mean. Unfortunately, the person who was trying to tell them the details had limited volume control, at the moment, and couldn't seem to be noticed. That was about to change.

Bang! Sparks flew off of the ceiling as Hermione put her wand away. "Gather around," she said, "and I'll tell you what's going on." This had the effect, of course, to reinvigorate the discussions, but at least they were directing their eyes at Hermione while they formed a circle around her.

"Alright," she began. "We're going to try an experiment. Harry's discovered a way to cure more than two of you per day; perhaps a lot more. This would mean that those of you near the bottom of the list," at this point, she held up the clipboard with everyone's names and the date and time of arrival, "might be able to be cured much sooner than the two months you're currently expecting. It's possible that we might even be done before the next full moon."

There was an explosion of cheers and shouts as those who had resigned themselves to two more cycles as a werewolf were filled with the hope that it was already over and they'd never have to experience that torment ever again. Hermione raised her wand to restore order and was quickly surrounded by silence. She had their attention.

"Now," she continued, "that's the good news. The bad news is that it will be quite a bit harder on you than the old way. The reason Harry wants to make the change is that the old way was just as hard on him as you and, well, you can see how many of you are left. He didn't feel that he could take the strain so many more times. He's paying a different sort of price, but the immediate pain and stresses are much less."

"Excuse me," interrupted a forty-something witch with a meek voice. "I've witnessed 'the old way', as you put it and am having a hard time imagining how it could be _quite a bit harder_."

"The pain is increased," explained Hermione, "as well as the stresses on your body. Recovery takes an additional day or so. The good news is that it's over quicker, but it's more like all of the discomfort is compressed into the shorter time period."

The murmuring had a more suppressed and fearful tone after this pronouncement. Noticing this, Hermione said, "Believe me; I don't like this any more than you do. The toll this change in procedure will take on Harry won't be known for a long time; perhaps years, but I won't argue with him about his decision." She looked around and found a werewolf who was cured the old way and just finishing up his recovery.

"Jesse," she said in a slightly elevated voice. When she had his attention, she continued, "you remember the pain of your cure, right?"

"I'll never forget it," replied Jesse. "It was nearly unbearable."

"Well, it's just as bad for Harry," stated Hermione everyone, again. "That's why he wants to change. He just doesn't feel that he can continue to do that twice a day for the next couple of months."

Again, there was subdued muttering from the crowd, but most had come to understand. An elderly wizard stepped forward and asked, "So what is involved in this, ah, _experiment_ you mentioned?"

"We're going to try to find out just how much we can speed up the process," explained Hermione. "Healer Sojourn; he's the director of St. Mungo's, has generously volunteered his hospital and staff so that we won't have the limitation of having only one nurse to attend to you as you recover. Up to twenty beds are available so up to ten of you could be cured per day. After the two days of treatment, you would come back here to rest and recuperate before moving on. What we're going to do tonight is see just how fast Harry can get through the ten. He might not be able to do that many in one day. We ran into that when he had to replace a bunch of arms. He never had a problem with them, one at a time, but he became tired when doing them in bunches."

"I see," said the wizard, nodding. "Would I be correct in assuming that this change he is contemplating; the one that lessens his pain but which has long term consequences that don't please you at all; does it involve him sacrificing some of the back end of his life to achieve his purposes?"

"I, ah..." began Hermione. She wasn't sure what to say. She hadn't wished for this information to be presented to the general population. Besides giving an important clue as to where Harry summons some of his power, it would also cause more than a little guilt for those receiving the benefits of his sacrifice. She had not taken into account the possibility that she'd run into a former Unspeakable who had studied the topic in depth and could recognize its description.

"In that case," continued the old wizard, who had been fairly certain of the answer in the first place, "I must decline treatment. I am well over one hundred years old and it is unreasonable for me to allow a young man such as Mr. Potter to trade part of his life to make the few years I might have left more comfortable."

Now the cat was completely out of the bag. They all knew what Harry had planned, and its cost. Hermione could tell at a glance that many of the older werewolves, although some were only in their sixties or seventies, were feeling a pressure of conscience to follow in the older man's footsteps. She also knew that Harry wouldn't be happy having others sacrifice their cure for his sake. He had seen the reactions of a dozen or so to being uncursed and knew what it meant to them. Deciding it would be easier to convince this group to accept the new terms than to convince Harry to let some of them suffer for years, she put the topic in its best possible light.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Mr. ah, Trindel?", she said, trying to remember his name.

"Mr. Trinkler," corrected the wizard. "Johannes Trinkler."

"That's right," confirmed Hermione. "Anyway, Harry says he's only using a tiny part of his life force; just enough to get the transformation over with quicker. He has a lot of power, naturally, and the amount he's adding is very slight."

"But...", retorted Trinkler.

"No 'buts'," replied Hermione, forcefully. "I know how you feel; I really do. I'm sure by now that you've all read in the paper about how serious my injuries were last weekend. I don't want to guess at how much of his life my husband used up to save mine, but it was a lot. It wasn't the first time he's used that source of power, either. If he says that curing you is only a small amount in comparison, I have to believe him, and so should you. One last thing; we really didn't want this whole subject to come up; Harry's using his life force, that is. Please don't tell anyone else about it; at least not before Harry finishes with Voldemort."

There was a surge of murmurs as the somewhat convinced crowd was reminded of another reason that Harry Potter's continued good health might be more important than their cures, but there were no more vocalized objections.

"Alright, then," said Hermione, verifying one last time that they would all behave. "As I said, we're going to try to do up to ten of you, tonight. If Harry does get tired, he'll be able to get a good night's sleep." Holding up her clipboard, she said, "Please step forward when I call your name. Alyssa Masino..."

* * *

In the quarters of the Dark Lord

"It was just the once?" Voldemort waited for his answer.

"Yes, my Lord," replied Snape. "I questioned him; Borgin, that is, about the possibility of a return visit, but he didn't feel that any such event was planned. However, the amount paid for the stolen silver would only be enough to provide for a man on the run for perhaps a week or so; if he were prudent. He might repeat the exchange if he is able to obtain more items of value."

The Dark Lord wasn't sure if the news that Snape brought back from Knockturn Alley was important or not. While being the first true lead in their search for Mundungus Fletcher, it wasn't necessarily going to help them in the actual capture of the man. After all, just because something happened once, it didn't mean it would happen on a regular basis; or at the same location. Still...

"What arrangements did you make with Borgin?" asked Voldemort. He knew that Snape would have given some sort of temporary orders until he could report and a more detailed plan could be devised.

"I told him that if Fletcher should return," replied Snape, "that he should detain him as long as he could and to inform us immediately. I provided him with an emergency beacon for that purpose."

Voldemort nodded in agreement. "That should be sufficient for the present," he said. Then he added, "Wait. Have an anti-portkey ward put in place around the building, as well. We may only have one chance at his capture and I wouldn't want to underestimate his available resources for escape."

"Of course, Lord," replied Snape. Feeling that the meeting was over, he left for his rooms. He would take care of securing the portkey ward when Gringotts opened in the morning. Until then, he would try, once again, to ascertain exactly what part their former spy had had in the recent failed attack on Potter. From their sources in the Ministry, they knew that he was also being pursued by a team of aurors. If second hand sources could be believed, Potter's group also wanted a piece of him. It seemed that whatever his goals had been, Dung's plans had failed spectacularly. Snape wondered if Dung would eventually figure out that his best option would be to run to the Ministry for protection. They, at least, had rules for the treatment of prisoners, while the Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate to use whatever means were necessary to find out the whole truth. Neither would Potter, for that matter.

* * *

At St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Shortly after 7:00 P.M.

The anguished cry had faded quickly, but it still echoed with perfect clarity in the minds of the eight remaining canaries sitting in a row in the waiting area of the short-term triage ward at the main English wizarding hospital. Designed for the processing of dozens of patients after a major catastrophe, the little used, but necessary room had been outfitted to accommodate up to twenty patients. If this initial run proved successful, none of the remaining werewolves in Britain would have to experience the painful transformation that would have come up with the next full moon on the 14th of December. That hope, and none other, kept them in their seats. Otherwise, they would have all surely fled for their lives by now.

After a few minutes, Harry and Hermione made their way around the privacy screens to rejoin the group. Despite his recent exertions, it was Harry who was assisting his wife.

"Would you like something to drink?" asked Harry. He had returned to the refreshment table after escorting her to her seat. With the shake of her head, he quickly poured a small glass of butterbeer for himself and joined her.

"So far, so good," he remarked, sipping on his refreshment. "I think that I should be able to do this whole lot, tonight."

The_ Lot_, as they were called, didn't seem too sure of whether or not this pronouncement was good news. Naturally, they wanted to be cured. That was, after all, the reason they had sought out Harry Potter in the first place. To be able to live out the rest of their lives free from the monthly insanity; to have friends and family, once again. These were now realistic possibilities. They tried to concentrate on just the future. Two or three days from now and it would all be over and forgotten. Just concentrate on that. Slowly, a collective calm fell over the group.

After another five minutes, Healer Sojourn came around the partition and said, "We've managed to get Mr. Smythe stabilized. Let us know when you've rested enough, Mr. Potter."

Harry stood up and said, "I'm ready to have another go right now." Glancing at the group, he asked, "Who's next?"

No one replied. Neither did anyone raise their hand or stand or blink or make any acknowledgment whatsoever. With a sigh, Hermione took Harry's helping hand and pulled herself to her feet. Reaching into her robes, she removed the list and glanced down to the third name. "Mason Jameson."

From either side, the remaining members of the group looked at the suddenly paler, middle aged gentleman in their midst. With a weak voice, he said, "That's me." Standing up, shakily, he followed behind as Healer Sojourn and the Potters led him off to be cured.

* * *

Author's note: I don't want any of you to have a heart attack, so I'll warn you now. The next chapter might very well have the phrase 'A few days passed without incident.' Despite popular belief, I jumped a few days ahead once or twice in the very beginning of the story, as well, so this isn't something entirely new for me. This shortening of the story is mainly due to my continued seven day work weeks plus two part time jobs. I'm getting older and finding the energy to write is becoming more difficult. I don't intend to leave out anything important, but some of the less important dialogue might be reduced, at least until the rewrite.

Dad


	131. Chapter 131

Chapter 131 - Getting Back to Normal

Wednesday, December 3rd, 1997

"How did your experiment go?" asked Ron, non-verbally accepting the neatly sliced sausages from his wife. Although never having needed this level of help where food was concerned; even the very next day after receiving his injuries, she had nevertheless felt compelled to collect and prepare his food to the point of being fork ready.

"That depends on your point of view," replied Hermione, in a dark tone. The question hadn't been directed at her, but she had the strongest opinions on the subject.

"It went fine," answered Harry, hoping to assert his status as the official spokesperson on the topic. "Everyone was cured and I didn't have nearly as much pain as usual."

"So what's the other point of view?" asked Ginny. She and Neville were sitting next to each other, as usual, but hadn't yet engaged in a conversation of their own.

"Harry didn't have nearly as much pain as he _should_ have," answered Hermione, grimly. "That, and virtually everyone he cured ended up unconscious." She glanced meaningfully back at Harry before stabbing at her omelette with her fork.

"What's the problem with Harry having less pain?" asked Honey, beginning in on her own breakfast while keeping a sharp eye on Ron's, taking care to make sure that he remained satisfied. "That was the whole point of the change, wasn't it?"

"Just a second," replied Hermione, looking around for any overly-attentive eavesdroppers. Waving her wand in the usual manner to prevent any such occurrences in the near future, she resumed, "The whole point of this experiment, as Ron put it, was to see if Harry could reduce his pain by using up a tiny part of his life force. There's an inverse correlation between the two; less pain means more life used up. I initially agreed to all of this with the understanding that it would remain difficult for Harry, but less so than without any help. Last night, he seemed to breeze right through those ten werewolves and didn't even work up a sweat."

"So he's using up more of his life than he needs to," summed up Ginny. "I guess I can see why that would upset you." Turning to Luna, she added, "I thought you were going to talk with Hermione about that subject. You made it sound like it would be a bad idea."

"I still think it's a bad idea," replied Luna, looking at Harry before turning her severe gaze at Hermione. "I'm surprised you went along with it since you seem to understand the ramifications."

"I wasn't very happy about it," returned Hermione, defending herself. "Like I said, Harry claims that he's only using a tiny amount of his life force. Considering how many werewolves there are left to do, I agreed to a test run. I'm no expert, of course, but I think he might have used more than the minimum amount necessary." She reflected Luna's expression back to Harry.

"Well, it's hard_ not_ to do," explained Harry. "I mean, I'm dealing with the transfer of the blood, and curing myself, and curing the werewolf; it takes a lot of concentration. To try to adjust how bad it hurts is just one more thing to think about."

"How much do you think you're using, Harry?" asked Ron. "I mean relatively." It might be useful to quantify just how much of his life he might be using up.

"Well," said Harry, thinking, "I suppose that I had it turned up all the way when we were attacked last weekend. Probably about the same when I had to change into a dragon in the volcano. Using that as a benchmark, I think that I'm only at about a tenth of that level."

"A tenth of maximum?" exclaimed Hermione, dropping her fork and taking his arm. "That's not what you said last night."

"Did I say a tenth?" asked Harry, quickly falling back. "I meant a twentieth; maybe less."

"That's still a lot," said Luna. "Personally, I'm also with Hermione on this. You have no way of knowing how many days, months or even years you're losing. Maybe you should go back to the old way."

Harry, trying to plead his case, thought a moment before positing, "Suppose you had to do something horrible; something you'd have to do over and over for weeks or months, but which was nearly unbearable. I don't know; something like walking over hot coals or eating worms or listening to rap. Wouldn't you be willing to trade a bit of the back end of your life, perhaps as little as a few days or so, if it would make things easier?"

"I don't know," admitted Ginny, trying to see things from Harry's point of view. "I can see where you'd be tempted, at least. Then, again, you might start to regret it once you're over a hundred."

"I might not make it to a hundred," countered Harry. "If you think about it, I'm only using up part of my life if I die of natural causes. If I died somehow before that, I wouldn't be out anything."

"What a happy thought," whined Hermione.

"I'm serious," said Harry. "A million things could happen to me. How many people actually get to live until they wear out?"

Hermione had to actually consider this. "You might have a point, there," she conceded. "Depending on just how much you're using up, it might not even come into play." She went back to her breakfast with a more thoughtful expression on her face.

"I think you're onto something, Harry," chimed in Neville, uncharacteristically joining in. "I doubt you'll retire after you kill You-Know-Who. How many other wizards are out there that might want to take you on?"

"It doesn't even have be a wizard," said Ron. "Accidents happen. He might catch a disease. Who knows?"

"You can all stop cheering me up, now," said Hermione.

"Oh, sorry," said Ron. "I just think we all feel a little better about it, though. Harry would actually be pretty lucky to live long enough to die at one-hundred-and-forty-five instead of one-hundred-and-fifty."

"If it comes to it," said Luna, tending to agree, "you might be right. As Ginny mentioned, I've been concerned for quite a while about this general topic and had planned to discuss it with Hermione once she felt a little better. After all, Harry hasn't been using this ability just to cure werewolves. I think you have a point, though. As long as Harry limits himself to doing it as little as possible, there's a very good chance that, in the end, it won't really matter."

"Then there's the tactical advantages to be considered," added Harry. At the questioning, and in Hermione's case, suspicious looks, he explained. "Well, I'd been acting pretty much instinctively until the attack. A burst here and there, but nothing extended. I was beginning to be able to recognize it when it happened, but that was about it. Just before Mad-eye saved us, however, I had several seconds where I just let it flow. I was able to learn how to control and direct it. That's how I was able to use it on the werewolves."

"I think I felt that when I was hugging you," said Luna. It turned out to be a poor choice of words.

"Hugging?" asked Hermione, pivoting to face Harry, who instinctively scooted closer to the end of the bench, the better to be in a position to make a run for it.

"I... I... don... don't remember..." began Harry, wracking his memory for the incident.

Luna jumped in. "It wasn't a real hug," she explained. "I just had my arms around Harry."

Hermione turned towards Luna, allowing Harry the opportunity to swing his right leg over the top of the bench. Hermione, however, had reached out to grab his arm.

"When the Slytherins were going to fight the Gryffindors," explained Luna, "Harry popped back from your hospital room to protect me." She stopped when she saw the recognition, and with it, the subsiding of anger from Hermione.

"Oh, that," said Hermione. "You've mentioned that you could feel the extra power, now that I think of it." She let go of Harry who returned to his place, as well.

"I did," agreed Luna, "but I didn't fully understand it until just now. This control that Harry has; the ability to turn it on and off was the new part." Turning to Harry, she said, "You're right. If you don't have to be in the mood, so to speak, to enhance your powers; if you can do it at will, then using part of your life at the right time might just save the rest of it."

"Hmm," confirmed Harry, nodding. With nothing to add, he returned to his breakfast.

* * *

Later that morning

Jerry Knight retraced his journey from just two days earlier and approached the Daily Prophet. He wasn't quite as relaxed as before, probably due to the constant glances he was sending in all directions as he imagined himself being under surveillance by unseen eyes. He had good reason for his fears, of course. Being a relatively unknown Death Eater with an average build and common features, and wearing civilian clothing, he had nevertheless found himself sitting next to Harry Potter within minutes of his arrival and had apparently had over an hour of his memories erased. How this had come to pass had, for the time being, eluded him.

This time, however, things might go a bit differently. One of the newer lieutenants, Jake Airins, after informing him that he, Knight, would be both arranging and giving the interview, had pondered on if there were any means by which they could discern both if he were captured, again, and what might have been revealed if he were. Since a broad knowledge base was essential to Knight's job as researcher, he suggested a muggle device he had heard of which was known as a voice recorder. A pair of the muggle-born wives had been sent to make the purchase. They had returned after a few hours with several more than the expected one bag, but they had managed to find a model that was, according to the packaging, tapeless. Small and easy to operate, it could record continuously for several hours, if necessary. He had activated it just before flooing to Diagon Alley.

Millie watched as the young Death Eater entered the Daily Prophet. Being one of two Hogwarts Free Elves currently under invisibility cloaks, she made her way to the bottom of the steps to wait for a ride inside. Stomper, the other hidden member of the team, took up a position across the alley behind a display of winter cloaks that were set outside Madam Malkin's Dress Shop. Keeping a sharp eye out for other undesirables, he checked in with base.

"Good morning," said Jerry to the receptionist. "Would it be possible to speak for a moment with Mr. Lovegood?" He smiled genuinely as the witch wrote for a few seconds more on a parchment before returning his smile.

"I believe he isn't with anyone at the moment," she replied, "but give me a minute to check. This would be regarding...?"

"I've come to set up an appointment for an interview," stated Jerry. "I'm Jerry Knight and my mas... boss has agreed to allow one, so I just came to arrange the time and location."

"I see," nodded the receptionist, whose name, as has been mentioned before was Julie Joplin. "I'll just be a moment, Mr. Knight." Julie left the reception area and headed down a hallway.

Knight watched the shapely woman as she walked before noticing a brief, cold chill on his neck. Turning around, he didn't notice anyone who had just entered and the door was closed, but he felt uneasy, nevertheless. Unseen by him, Millie stepped quietly to a position just behind the rubbish bin near the display cases.

After the promised minute, Julie returned and said, "Mr. Lovegood happens to have a couple of openings this afternoon. Would you be able to come back after lunch?"

Knight looked at his watch. It was a quarter hour before noon. "Around one o'clock?" he asked. At her nod, he replied, "I could do that. It might be better to have a light meal before an interview." Steeling his nerves as he seized the moment, he lied, "I'm not too familiar with this area. Would you care to be my guide and join me for lunch?" He smiled, again, hopefully.

Julie appraised the young man. He wasn't bad looking, but neither was he up to her usual standards for dates, but this wasn't really a date. Taking the opportunity for what it was; a free meal, she smiled and said, "I'd love to." Turning around the "Please Wait For The Receptionist" sign to show the "Out To Lunch" side, she grabbed her outer cloak from the hook and proceeded out the door being held open by Jerry. Neither of them noticed when the door reopened slightly behind them before closing, again.

* * *

Slightly after three o'clock, in the office of the Fortress of Solitude

"The department of Aurors?" asked Sassy. "That's a bit surprising. Not really. Without law enforcement of some kind, the whole world would be in chaos. Naturally, some of the laws they'd be enforcing would have to be modified. I see. Do you think that the same aurors we have now would be left in place; assuming that your side wins? That won't be my decision. I realize that, but I'd like your opinion."

There was a pause in the narration as Jerry Knight apparently had to consider his answer. The quill that had been magically taking dictation, also paused for a moment before the interview continued to be transcribed. Hermione, using the infamous green quill of Rita Skeeter as inspiration, had enchanted it to record every word said for later review. Approximately two minutes into the eavesdropped interview, Sassy had told them, in a much nicer manner, of course, to shut the bloody hell up. It was difficult enough to listen to Millie repeat, with the Voice, everything that anyone said. Having Harry, Hermione and Ron asking questions and making comments as she went along didn't help.

After Jerry, having chosen to not give out specific names of favored aurors, and had instead given the types of operations that would be necessary regardless of who was in power, the next rather odd question was posed. "I suppose you've been wondering when I'd ask this, Mr. Knight," continued Sassy. "What exactly is your opinion of Harry Potter? Hmm. That's an interesting question. Hmm. I suppose I'd first have to say that, on a personal level, he seems like a nice enough chap. When we spoke a couple of days ago, he was polite and all. He was also nice enough to make my arms a matched pair, again. Why did he need to do that? I've no idea. He had noticed that the one was different than... I meant why was it different in the first place. Oh, I...well..."

While Knight stammered out a quick, albeit inaccurate reply mentioning an unfortunate accident before changing the thrust of his answer, Hermione leaned over and whispered to Harry, "I'll bet he wasn't supposed to mention that."

"I think," replied Harry, also in a whisper, "that he might have overstepped the bounds that Voldemort would have set on a number of occasions. The constant moving from place to place, for instance."

"Well," said Ron, "It's not like we didn't know that already." They had tracked Death Eater movements for months, now.

"_We_ did," agreed Hermione, "but the general public didn't. It might make him look weak."

"I suppose," allowed Ron. "He wouldn't want it to look like he was doing it to hide from Harry."

"I don't think it would," concluded Harry. "You'd have to have a lot more background information to come to that conclusion. He covered himself pretty well by just explaining it away as 'standard procedure'. Most people won't give it a second thought."

"Shh," shushed Hermione. "I think he's finishing up."

"... just doing whatever they want," reported Sassy. "It just isn't reasonable to expect that everything will work out all the time when so many people are pulling in so many directions. In the end, the Dark Lord is offering order. I think that _that_, above all else, is what drew me into contemplating joining up. Well, it's certainly worked out for you. It sounds like you've found your new duties to be much more interesting and varied than at your previous occupation as broom maker. That is quite true. Thank you, Mr. Knight. I think my readers will be quite intrigued by the new light you've shed on the world of a Death Eater. I hope so. When do you think this will be coming out? I'd originally planned on Friday's edition, but I might move it to Sunday. More readers, you see. Not too sure, just yet. I see. Do you anticipate doing more interviews? I might. It depends on how this one is received, of course. I might also try for an opposing view from either the Ministry or Harry Potter. Give some balance, you know. I'd like to see that. If you do wish for more Death Eater interviews, just mention it to Julie. Julie? Yes. If things go as I hope, I'll be seeing her on a regular basis. She's quite the nice young witch. We had lunch together, you see, while I was waiting for this interview and we got along fairly well. She must have had a good time since she's already agreed to have dinner on Saturday night. I see. Well, I suppose I should wish you good luck, then. Thank you. Goodbye."

"He sounds like a nice enough chap," said Ron.

"He is," confirmed Harry, "although I'm not sure I like having a Death Eater, even a nice one, starting a relationship with someone so close to Linus. He might try to take advantage of her."

"You don't have to be a Death Eater to try to take advantage of a pretty girl," commented Hermione, sagely. After a moment to contemplate the slight shift of paradigm, the boys at the table nodded in reluctant agreement.

* * *

Friday , December 5th

"If we can ever be of help to you, just ask." Richard Kent shook Harry's hand as they stood in front of their house in Birmingham. It had been a week since the rescue of Cathy Diben, which had ended up including the three younger prisoners. With no Death Eater sightings near any of their residences, it was determined that they could, with the continued security contracted by Harry, of course, return to their homes to attempt to start getting their lives back to some semblance of normalcy. Although making for a long day, Friday evening was chosen for the trips so as to not interfere with the weekend duties of Neville, Ginny and Luna as well as whatever activities that the Potters and Weasleys might be able to achieve; given the continued recuperation of Hermione. Normally, Ron and Honey would have accompanied the group, but as three of the four stops would be made in muggle locations, it was decided that Ron and his flying carpet would stay home. Filling in for the Weasleys would be Luna. She, of course, had planned to make this trip in any event, seeing it for what it was; an opportunity to spend some time with Kurt and learn a bit more about him and how he lived.

As the opportunity for Pietro and Francesca to cook Harry's authentic Italian meal had not presented itself, they cheerfully offered to host the lot of them at a restaurant just around the corner from their modest house in Lodi; a smallish city in the Lombardi region of Italy. After the nearly two hour feeding frenzy; the well sated remaining travelers bade the Giordano family goodbye and headed to the small, two flights up apartment of Cindy and Nicole Parks.

Barrow was perhaps the quintessential working class town in England. Once an industrial powerhouse, due mostly to its shipyards and steelworks, it was now on the decline with many of the younger folk moving on to other, more thriving areas in search of more varied opportunities while the older residents settled back to a life of semi-retirement. Nicole held a steady, although unremarkable job in one of the remaining factories while Cindy had formerly plied her trade as a hygienist for one of the local dentists. That job had, by necessity of her absence, been filled, so Hermione had promised to check with her parents on their current needs in that regard. Neither would have to return to work immediately due to Harry's generous endowment, but eventually such matters would need to be addressed.

Bidding the more middle class and financially secure Kents their farewells, it only remained for Harry and Hermione to return Lord Cremshaw; more familiarly addressed by them all as Kurt, to his home of Whackydaft Manor.

"My gracious, I don't think I'll ever get used to that," exclaimed Kurt, upon arriving by the massive, yet mostly ornamental gate that would, if it had been closed, have spanned a cobblestone road leading into what appeared to be a well-manicured forest of huge beech trees. Looking around, he asked "Why didn't you bring us a bit closer to the house?"

Harry looked around. Spying the only dwelling within view; a small shepherd's hut about a half mile to the south which appeared to be occupied, if the smoke billowing from the chimney was any indication, but was definitely not a manor house, he decided that Kurt had a point. Turning to Stomper, he asked, "Where are we and why didn't you take us to Kurt's house?"

"We is being at the entrance to Master Lonnagan's house, Harry Potter," replied Stomper. "We is not being entering Master Lonnagan's property until we is being getting permission."

"Permission?" asked Kurt. "That normally isn't necessary, but if it will help things along, you have it."

"Hold it a moment, Stomper," interrupted Hermione. Turning to Kurt, she asked, "Do you have many servants?"

"No more than usual," replied Lord Cremshaw, fairly confused by the odd question.

"That's what I thought," said Hermione, sporting a somewhat upset expression. "We'd most likely be seen if we just popped in. It'd probably be safer if we just walked to the house."

"That's probably more than a little out of your range," remarked Luna, before Harry could make the proper connections. "Perhaps you and Harry should return to Hogwarts and I could escort Kurt home myself." She tried to maintain an innocent expression, but Hermione could see through the suggestion.

"We're not going to make it _that_ easy for you," replied Hermione. She looked about for any alternatives that might present themselves.

"Why don't I just call for a ride?" asked Kurt. He had gathered enough from the women's subtle conversation to understand that the main point of difficulty lay in Hermione's current lack of stamina. With no reply from the others, he walked to the left pylon of the gate and pressed a hitherto unseen button on the side.

"Welcome to Whackydaft Manor," came a voice after a short wait. "Please state your name and business."

Kurt smiled. "Good afternoon, Phipps," he replied. "Cremshaw, here. We've just arrived at the north gate. Be a good chap and send a car out."

"Master Cremshaw," exclaimed Phipps. "Where in the world have you been? We've all been so worried."

"We'll be able to discuss that once we're back at the house," responded Kurt. "Listen; be sure to send the big car. It might be a bit crowded, otherwise, with the six of us." He had naturally included the two elf bodyguards, although if all went well, they wouldn't be seen by any of the muggle staff.

"Very good, sir," replied Phipps. There were no further sounds so it was assumed he left to make his way to the garage.

"It shouldn't be long," noted Kurt. He looked around. "Pity we've never thought to put a bench or two out here." He looked meaningfully at Hermione.

"I'll be fine," said Hermione. Looking around at the beautiful front lawn, she asked, "Where are we, anyway?"

"Whackydaft is about twenty-five miles or so west of Queen Bess' place," replied Kurt. "Windsor, that is. I suppose she has quite a few others, when it comes down to it. The local town is Checkendon. That's in, ah, West Berkshire." He stopped as Hermione turned away, apparently searching for something.

"That's a nice area," said Hermione, stepping over to a convenient tree that looked lean-worthy.

"I could summon..." began Harry.

"I'm fine," said Hermione, a bit more forcefully. Then, deciding to accept what everyone else saw; namely that this trip had been a major excursion for her still-recovering body, she admitted, "Perhaps you're right."

Harry immediately pulled his wand and summoned a Queen Anne love seat upholstered with red roses. Hermione didn't take any time to appreciate the craftsmanship, but just plopped her butt down in relief.

"This is such a lovely grove of beeches," commented Luna, despite the fact that the trees, with their bare branches towering over the carpet of colorful leaves, were obviously already slipping into their long, winter sleep. "It's too bad that it's so late in the day. Do you think I could visit sometime when we'd have enough time for you to properly show me around?" She looked up at Kurt with guileless eyes. Those months of studying Ginny were paying off.

"Oh, I'd love to," replied Kurt, quickly. "Anytime you want."

"Did you hear that?" asked Luna quietly of Stomper, all the while maintaining her smile.

"Yes, Mistress Luna," replied Stomper. Hermione just shook her head.

After a few more minutes, the sound of an expertly tuned engine could be heard in the distance. As the number of obscuring trees became reduced in number, the requested automobile came into view. It was, as Lord Cremshaw had put it, _a big car_. Most Rolls Royce Phantom limousines were, after all. Hermione stood and allowed Harry to return her chair to storage before they all moved to the side of the drive to allow the shimmering maroon vehicle to come to a stop just opposite them.

"Welcome home, sir," said the uniformed driver who exited the car on the right side. The footman copied his actions on the left. "We've been very concerned." He opened the front door of the main compartment just as the footman rounded the back of the automobile to do the same at the rear.

"Thank you, Alfred," replied Kurt. He took Luna's hand as she entered the back end of the automobile. Harry, noting his limited options, prepared to assist Hermione into the front seats. As they were rear-facing, he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

"Just a moment," said Hermione, making a show of adjusting her skirt, but in reality giving Stomper and Millie time to enter the limo. She then took her place in the middle of the bench seat, as had Luna on her end, leaving only Harry to board. If the chauffeur and footman found it unusual for the more comfortable window seats to be apparently abandoned, they didn't show it. Shutting the doors, they resumed their positions and turned the car around.

The trip to the manor house was a short one, as car rides go, but approached a full mile by the time they pulled in front of the ivy covered, red brick and granite walls of Whackydaft. Two more attendants could be seen standing by the massive front door as an older, more portly gentlemen descended the steps to greet them.

"Welcome back, sir," he said, waiting anxiously as the occupants exited the vehicle. "I've alerted Cook and the kitchen staff of your return. Your suite is being refreshed as we speak. Shall I also have rooms prepared for your guests?"

"That won't be necessary, Phipps," replied Lord Cremshaw as the car pulled away. "I'd expect my friends will be traveling back home, tonight."

"That's right," confirmed Hermione. "We really don't want to be a bother. We'll just give you and Luna time to say your goodbyes and then be on our way."

"Please," replied Kurt. "Allow me to extend at least a bit of the hospitality of my house." Turning to Phipps, he said, "A full dinner won't be necessary as we've recently had a fairly extensive meal in Italy. Perhaps a few hors d'oeuvres in the library, if it wouldn't be too much trouble. After that, I'm sure they'll all be eager to return to Scotland."

"Very good, sir," replied Phipps, wondering where they parked the Harrier.

"Really," said Hermione. "It's getting late and... Did you say '_library_'?"

"It's on the west side of the manor," explained Kurt. "There's quite a view of the sunset from the upper level."

"That sounds lovely," commented Luna, taking Kurt's arm and leading him towards his front door. "Let's have a look."

Harry remained silent as he and his wife followed their host and his girl up the granite steps into the manor house. He had even more reason than had already been stated to make a quick departure; having ten more werewolves to cure in St. Mungo's, and all, but the anticipation shining in Hermione's eyes and eagerness in her step quickly overrode those minor issues. It was good to see her returning a bit to her old self; rejuvenated by the promise of exploring an undiscovered library.

Upon entering said library, some three minutes later; it was a fairly large house, after all; they began to enjoy the view. _The View_, of course, was different for each of them. For Hermione, it was limited to the nearly floor to ceiling series of bookshelves. As the domed ceiling was over twenty-five feet above the spectacular oval hand-tied Persian rug, that meant books, as in lots of them. Rolling ladders were strategically placed on both levels so that the entire library was easily accessible.

Luna, of course, could see little but Kurt as he gestured towards the two servants hovering near the refreshment carts; one comprised of small appetizers and one of an assortment of drinks.

Harry, alone among them all, gazed out over the countryside through the full height windows on the west wall. There were the trunks and lowest branches of two mighty oaks near the house, but beyond that flowed a full three acres of nearly flat, well-manicured lawn. The view was spectacular, especially since the setting sun had to compete with enough cloud cover to prevent it from becoming overpowering. Harry, however, didn't seem to be looking around so much as gazing into infinity.

Eventually, the latest couple meandered near as Kurt was pointing out the interesting bits to his girl; in this case, the hedge maze towards the northwest end of the property. Their presence roused Harry from his musings enough to make a comment.

"Kurt," said Harry, "that's quite the field you have there. Nice and open."

Kurt, seemingly forgetting that others were nearby, was able to break away his gaze long enough to acknowledge Harry's comment. "Oh, yes," he agreed. "It's quite a good spot for hosting Afternoon Tea, when the weather cooperates."

"I suppose so," replied Harry. "I was just thinking that this would be a good location for a Quidditch pitch. We have a similar bit of land at our place. I'm thinking of putting one in, myself; just for the occasional pick-up game, you know."

_Did he just say, 'our place?' _wondered Hermione from her current location; hidden in the nook on the very end of the wall of shelves that butted against the full-height windows. She set down the three books in her hands as she headed for her delusional husband.

"Luna was telling me of that odd game," replied Kurt. "It sounds frightfully exciting."

"Oh, it is," agreed Harry, easily lured into his favorite subject. "I've played every year since I started school." Thinking, he amended, "Well, almost every year. It was cancelled one year due to another type of tournament. I'm not playing this year, either, since..."

"Excuse me," said Hermione, coming up behind him. "I must have bumped my head, somewhere. I thought I heard you telling Kurt about having a lawn like this at _our place_." She waited for Harry to give his reply.

"Oh, hi, dear," replied Harry, thinking quickly. "Did I say _our place? _What I meant was, uh..." He trailed off and turned away, despondently looking out the window.

Hermione was about to respond when, quite accidentally, she looked out the same window at the same view as Harry. The sun had just touched the horizon with its rays darting through the trunks and branches of the nearby woods. The undersides of the distant clouds shone in ever changing shades of orange and red as one of the remaining flocks of geese made its belated run to the south.

"What my husband fails to remember," said Hermione to Kurt, "is that we don't have a place like this..." She shut her eyes and finished with "yet." Turning to Harry, she added, "I'd like to see it in the springtime before we look into buying it."

Harry's huge grin and subsequent embrace startled Kurt, but warmed Hermione to the point of knowing she had made the right, albeit intrinsically unavoidable decision. However, one point popped into her mind and she decided to strike while the iron was hot.

"There's just one thing," she said, coyly. "If _you _get a quidditch pitch, then _I_ want to be able to watch the matches from a library like this one."

* * *

Very early Saturday morning, on a ferry approaching the southeast corner of the Isle of Eigg.

_"This is not what I expected when I signed on with this Lord Voldemort," _said Camille, speaking in French to his brother. _"The animals have it better on this boat that we do." _He was right, surprisingly. While the few other humans aboard were able to stay warm and dry in the upper level observation deck, the brothers were unable to join them due to the dual needs of secrecy and reconnaissance.

_"That isn't saying much," _replied Michel. Indeed, they had been forced to take refuge on the rear loading ramp in order to have any relief at all from the constant pounding of the waves on the far side of the ferry. The enclosed area for live cargo had proven to be too dangerous a location due to the random and fairly spooked nature of the sheep. It would be fair to say that this first, and last, trip at sea was something to which they had never had the chance to become accustomed.

_"We're nearly there," _remarked Camille, after glancing over the starboard railing._ "I hope they give these damned sheep some water when we reach land."_

_"We can only hope, my brother," _agreed Michel. They needed to find a secure and consistent spot in which to administer the proper potions to the sheep before they were taken away to satisfy the appetites of the Hebridian Blacks. No such opportunity presented itself in the large town of Fort William, located in Lochaber, Scotland. The sheep were merely cut from a large group gathered in one of the local stockades and herded down to a ferry waiting at Mallaig. That had been nearly two hours ago. Surely, the beasts would get some sort of refreshment at the next port, on the Isle of Eigg.

_"They must have to do so somewhere," _muttered Camille. _"On the bright side, we won't have to make this part of the trip, next time."_

_"That is true," _agreed Michel. _"Once we find out where they will drink, we have only to meet them there."_

_"For that I am truly thankful," _added Camille. _"This insanity of arising at three o'clock; it is for the birds."_

_"You mean it is for the sheep," _corrected Michel. They both laughed. The last laugh, of course, would be on them. It would take a further hour and a half, but they would discover that the next time these particular sheep would have a drink of water would be when they lapped it up from the lake of the dragons.

* * *

Later that same Saturday morning, in the Great Hall

"Lean over," ordered Hermione, looking determinedly at the side of Harry's head. Harry complied. "Lumos," intoned Hermione, now holding the lit end of her wand mere inches from Harry's left ear.

"What are you doing?" asked Honey, also examining Harry closely, but without knowing why.

"I'm wondering..." began Harry before being interrupted by Hermione grabbing his jaw and turning his head back sideways.

"Now hold still," she commanded as she continued her secret search.

"You're not looking for gray hairs, are you?" asked Ginny. She gave the impression that she thought she was probably right.

"It's spelled with an 'e' in Great Britain," corrected Hermione before putting down her wand; unsuccessful in her search. "To answer your question, though; yes. After thirty cures in the past three days, I thought it a possibility."

"But," countered Ron, not out of a misguided attempt to protect Harry, but as a result of a rare deduction of a legitimate problem with Hermione's concerns, "even if it all turned grey, wouldn't it have to grow out before you could tell?"

"Not necessarily," answered Neville. "I've heard that a sudden shock can cause your hair to go grey overnight."

"The same is supposedly true for stress," added Hermione, "although both of those notions are most likely just old wive's tales. Harry's hair wouldn't all change overnight, but with his naturally dark color, any grey or white near the base of the follicles would be noticeable after just a few days."

"Mr. Knight's interview is on page five," said Luna, who had been reading the paper instead of worrying about Harry's chances of appearing to qualify for the senior citizen's discount. "It's in the LifeStyle section." Those who knew about the interview ceased their squabbling and opened their papers. Those who didn't turned to the article out of curiosity.

"It sounds a lot more fluid," commented Ron after a few lines. "You know; reading it rather than listening to it being dictated."

"That's to be expected," said Hermione. "While we were listening to it in real time, we only heard one voice without any inflection. Now, we're adding in the proper gender, pauses and tone for how we imagine it would all most likely be spoken."

"That makes it even worse," added Harry. "Jerry comes across as a sharp and thoughtful young man. Some people might be inclined to give his opinions a fair shot."

"He's still a Death Eater," noted Neville.

"True," agreed Ginny, perusing the article, "but by his very existence, he's showing that not all of them are crazed madmen intent on murder and destruction. It's sort of like the army. It's main purpose is to fight wars, when necessary. That's what people think of when you mention joining the army. Most of the time, though, they're off somewhere building bridges, distributing food and water, establishing order after a disaster or things like that."

"It really shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone," said Hermione, choosing to not finish the written version of the interview that she had already heard live. "We've met enough Death Eaters to know that there are only a few true nut jobs. Most of them have their own reasons for joining up. Mr. Knight's a very organized man. It isn't unreasonable for him to be drawn to the prospect of a well-managed England with just one group calling the shots instead of several political parties pulling in all different directions. In an abstract way, I sometimes feel the same way."

"Do you want me to ask for some literature?" asked Harry, wondering if his wife was serious.

"No, thank you," replied Hermione, politely. "If Voldemort were smart, though, he might consider printing something up. Some Royalists, for example, might be inclined to listen to what he has to say."

Pondering on the prospect of regular people being drawn to Voldemort's side by philosophical argument, they all went back to their breakfasts.

* * *

Author's note: Last time, I said I was going to try to jump ahead in time faster. I found out I can't do that very well. I guess we'll plod along like normal from here on out.

In other news, three days after buying a Buick (reputed to be an 'old man's car' in the US), I'm walking with a cane. Leg went out on me and hasn't fully come back, yet. Had the other usual fall delays; band concerts and Breakfast with Santa (second best year. $1000 each to the local food pantry and veteran's hospital volunteers). I have to write a story for my niece and nephews for Christmas but hope to get rolling again. See you soon.

Dad


	132. Chapter 132

Chapter 132 - Knight's Move

December 6th, 1997

"I don't see the problem," noted Airins. "The sheep designated for the dragons are contained as a single group in the hold of the ferry for over two hours with no caretakers to give you any trouble. You should administer the potions there."

"But zey do not drink on ze boat," argued Michel. "Zey jus stand zere." He and his brother had returned from their expedition just a few minutes earlier and had immediately begun to pile their plates with crepes and sausages. The Dark Lord, of course, had redirected their efforts towards making at least a preliminary report.

"They _would _drink," replied Airins, calmly, "if they could. Simply conjure or summon a few tanks of water for them."

"Vat if zey aire not thirsty?" asked Camille without thinking.

"They're _sheep_," replied Airins, unable to hide the extent of his surprise at the stupidity of the question. "Enchant them to be thirsty. They'll drink easily enough."

Neither Michel nor Camille replied. It was, in retrospect, a fairly obvious solution. With the slightest nods of acknowledgment, they turned back to their breakfasts; hoping that the subject would change to hide their lack of creativity. Unfortunately, Airins' helpful suggestions hadn't yet come to an end.

"It's probably best if you use many smaller containers instead of a few large ones," he said, assuming that this duo probably had to have everything spelled out for them. "You know; to prevent the water from sloshing out from the rocking of the ferry, and all." Again, Camille and Michel remained silent, but added stony faces.

"Plan a new test for tomorrow," ordered the Dark Lord. Turning back to Airins, he commented, "That was a good suggestion concerning the water, Jake. Quite often it's the smallest details that ruin the best laid plans."

Snape nearly dropped his fork. Did he hear right? In the world of the Death Eaters, it had been a subtle, yet noticeable fact that only a very select few had the distinction of being addressed by anything other than their surnames. Wormtail had that privilege due to his year as the sole caretaker of his master; Bellatrix had earned her favor by other means, and he, Severus Snape, had earned his right through extraordinary competence and years of dedicated service. To have this upstart wander into the Inner Circle and insinuate himself so easily and thoroughly as to receive the more casual form of address from the Dark Lord was galling, to say the least.

* * *

"Now that we have that all sorted out," continued Voldemort, pouring a bit more syrup on his french toast, "does anyone have any ideas on how to best profit from Knight's interview?" He waved that day's edition of the Daily Prophet as he spoke.

"Well," said Rookwood, tentatively, "I did have a thought while reading the article. Knight presented himself as someone who'd joined for all the right reasons. Interesting work. Agreement with the core goals of the Death Eaters. That sort of thing. The only problem I see for any interested members of the general public would be most of them wouldn't have the first clue on how to enquire further. If they didn't know where to go or who to talk with..." He shrugged meaningfully before sipping his coffee.

"Hmm," pondered Voldemort. "I suppose it _is_ a bit of an unusual type of problem for the average wizard. What solutions have you considered?"

Rookwood, having only just read the article within the past half-hour, went pale. "Uh, well," he stammered, thinking frantically for something; _anything_, that would be a satisfactory reply. Failing at that, he admitted, "I... I don't have... It was just a thought." He sensed that continuing to babble wouldn't help his cause.

"Perhaps we could use our peripheral contacts," suggested Snape, referring to those witches and wizards, mostly friends and family of the regular Death Eaters, who were sympathetic to the dark side without necessarily being in a position to join full time. "They could be instructed to pursue discussions of the article with their circle of acquaintances and inform us of anyone who shows interest."

"That might yield some results," agreed Voldemort. "Of course, after a few days have passed, it might be more difficult to bring up the subject."

"Unless," said Airins, "there was an ongoing reminder." He exaggerated the final 'r' as he scratched his chin.

"What sort of a _reminder_?" asked Snape. He wasn't above putting the Golden Boy on the spot before he could finish his thought.

"Of that, I don't know," responded an oddly confident Airins to Snape's secret glee, "but we don't have to have it all figured out to proceed with one possibility."

"What are you talking about, Airins?" asked Voldemort, not particularly caring to hear half-baked plans.

"Well, Master," replied the now slightly rattled young Death Eater, "Knight's been to the Daily Prophet twice, now. They know him."

"So?" badgered Snape. "Are you suggesting that he do an interview every week?" The idea was bad enough to send Airins back to the minor leagues.

"Of course not," replied Airins. "As I said, the details need to be worked out. However, having some sort of mention in the Prophet from time to time would keep the interest up. As it turns out, Knight might have a valid excuse for dropping by on a regular basis. At least he hopes to."

"He hopes?" asked Rookwood.

"As it turns out," explained Airins, leaning in to gossip, "the receptionist at the Prophet is apparently young, witty and quite a looker. I'm not sure how a bloke like Jerry pulled it off, but he asked her to lunch while waiting for his interview and she actually accepted. It must have gone well, because she's agreed to another date. If that relationship blossoms..." He left the rest unsaid.

"From their point of view," pondered Snape, "they would have a readily available source inside the Death Eaters." He turned to the Dark Lord. "From ours, of course, we'd have a legitimate means of casually passing along any information we wish to become known to the public."

"When will this next encounter with the girl take place?" asked the Dark Lord, thoughtfully.

"I've no idea," replied Airins. "I only know as much as I do by chance. I happened to be behind Jerry, yesterday, in line for breakfast and overheard him talking with Geordie and Tom about her. It'll probably be soon. From the sound of things, none of them can believe a girl like her would give him a second look and he seemed eager to strike while the iron was hot."

"We must do something to make sure he makes it worth her while, then," declared Voldemort. He looked around. "Where _is_ Knight? I'd like to speak with him."

"I'll find him," said Rookwood, standing up. He had finished his breakfast and needed to stretch, anyway.

* * *

As it turned out, standing up was all he needed to do to find his quarry. Walking four tables away, he whispered into a suddenly ashen faced Knight's ear. Clearly concerned that some part of the published interview had not met expectations, he gave a final glance back at his friends before following Rookwood back to his master.

"Master," said Knight, humbly, as way of a greeting.

"Have a seat, Knight," ordered Voldemort, indicating Rookwood's chair. Rookwood, who had already taken two steps in that general direction, knew enough to back out without comment. Knight also had enough experience to know that manners were not in play when given a command, even a polite one, and quickly took the offered chair.

"Thank you," replied Knight after scooting the chair closer to the table.

"Your interview seemed to go very well," began Voldemort. "A lot of good information about the true nature of the Death Eaters. We were just discussing that there will probably be more than one person who might want to look into joining because of it."

"Thank you, Master," replied Knight, relieved that his master was pleased.

"It's also been brought to my attention," continued the Dark Lord, "that you might have come out ahead, personally." He waited a moment to see if Knight had any comments on the vague reference.

Jerry Knight had to think for a moment. Since the list of options was short, he made his best guess. "Do you mean meeting Julie... er, Miss Joplin; the receptionist, Master?"

"Of course," answered Voldemort. "I understand she's a fine catch."

"Yes, she is, Master," agreed Knight. "Of course I haven't quite finished reeling her in, yet." The light-hearted comment shocked him when he heard it coming from his lips. He suspected that he was beginning to feel perhaps a bit too relaxed during this conversation.

Voldemort was starting to get the same idea and decided to get to the meat of why he had brought Knight to his table in the first place.

"I might be able to help you there," said Voldemort. "I understand you have a date set up for tonight." He didn't elaborate on how that information was known to him. Whenever he had the opportunity, he liked to instill the sense of his omniscience in his men.

"Uh, yes," stuttered out Knight, surprised that such information had become known to the Dark Lord. "Yes, we do."

"Where were you planning on taking her?" asked Voldemort, inquisitively.

"I, ah, hadn't really decided, yet," replied Knight, honestly. "The Leaky Cauldron, I suppose."

"The Leaky Cauldron?" asked Voldemort, incredulously. "That won't do. That won't do at all." He leaned forward as if deep in thought in his attempt to help out one of his men in their romantic endeavors. "It seems I've read about a new, upscale restaurant that opened just a few months ago." He looked about at his lieutenants for some help.

"I think you're right," replied Rookwood. "Someplace in one of the higher class areas of Muggle London, if I'm not mistaken. It has a bird's name." That was as far as his memory took him.

"That sounds right," agreed Voldemort. "Can't place which bird, though."

"It's the Phoenix Pheather," said Airins, a moment later. He had that morning's Daily Prophet in his hands and had opened it to the Nightlife section. "It's the magical sister restaurant to the Duck and Waffle. Wow. It's on the 41st floor of the Heron Tower and is supposed to have a spectacular view of the Thames. Sounds pretty upper crust."

"That.." began Voldemort before being interrupted.

"There's a..." said Airins at almost the same moment. "Excuse me, Master."

Voldemort had killed men for less, but this was supposed to be a friendly, helpful conversation, so he just waved his hand and said, "Go ahead. You have something to add?"

"Yes, Master," said Airins. "The ad notes that the Phoenix Pheather has both a muggle and magical entrance, depending on your preference. One is up a hidden staircase in the muggle half and the other is a private floo located on Diagon Alley. It also mentions that reservations are required."

"Well, despite the muggle aspects, it sounds quite nice," replied Voldemort. "I might have to arrange a visit for myself." He mused on that subject for a moment before returning his gaze to Knight. "Take your young lady there and she'll be more than impressed, I'm sure."

"I'm sure she would," agreed Knight, smiling, "although I'll have to get reservations for a future date, it seems."

"Nonsense," retorted the Dark Lord. "Snape. See to it that a table is reserved for our amorous couple for tonight. Give him a few hundred galleons, as well. We wouldn't want him to end up washing dishes to pay for his meal, would we?"

"Of course," acknowledged Snape through gritted teeth. He knew the future uses that his master intended for both Knight and the girl, but the over-the-top assistance he was providing was causing more than a little jealousy on his part. When was the last time the Dark Lord had bought _him_ dinner in a fine restaurant?

"Now don't make the mistake," advised Voldemort, "of letting her know of the help I'm giving you, Knight. Let her think that you do this sort of thing all the time."

"Yes, Master," replied Knight. "I had the same thought, myself." He had started to come to the conclusion that such helpfulness on the part of the Dark Lord would probably have a seriously bad downside, at some point, but he intended to make the most of it, while it lasted.

"Excellent," said Voldemort. "Be sure to let me know how it goes at breakfast, tomorrow." He then added, "If you make it back in time for breakfast, that is." He tried to wink, mischievously, but it didn't really work for him.

"I will, Master," said Knight, interpreting the statement to mean that his presence was no longer required. "Thank you, Master." He rose, and after making his way out to the aisle, quickly returned to his original table and astonished friends.

* * *

Later that morning, in the cell area of the Fortress of Solitude.

Remus Lupin stopped walking. He was only three cells away from his destination, but he felt the need to catch his breath and to calm himself before taking those last few steps. His last experience with meeting someone who had seriously affected his life had turned out better than he could have expected. Fenrir Greyback had been the werewolf who had bitten him as a child. He had lived the bulk of his life cursed with lycanthropy because of that attack. Greyback had also worked for the Dark Lord and murdered more than his share of the people that Voldemort wished to punish. Still, once he was forced to talk to and work with the man, he began to feel, like Harry and a few of the others had come to feel, that Greyback was a good and affable conversationalist who might have been just as much a victim of circumstance as he, himself, was. Remus could even admit, on occasion, that he liked him.

This next meeting, however, had no chance of turning out so well. Peter Pettigrew had almost the exact opposite history with him. They had met at Hogwarts. He, along with James and Sirius, had figured out the true cause of his monthly illness. Rather than being frightened away and shunning him, they had all become illegal animangi in order to help control him during his monthly torment. Having friends to help him through it meant more to him than he could ever express. For the first time since bitten, he had actually looked forward to the full moon. Over the years, they had progressed past simple friendship and moved on into virtual brotherhood. It was for that reason that the betrayal of James, along with his wife, Lily, with the initial blame going to Sirius, along with the additional perceived death of Peter, himself, had nearly destroyed him. After discovering that it was Peter who was the traitor had only shifted the blame, although the final year with Sirius had helped to restore him a bit.

With such an unusual history between them, Remus had no idea what would happen when he finally confronted the former marauder. Since it was Peter who had made the specific request to see him, he would let any blame for the outcome rest on the head of the rat. Taking a deep breath, he took the final few steps to the cell and activated the sound.

"You wished to see me?" asked Lupin, doing his best to remain dispassionate. He had his resolve immediately put to the test as Pettigrew turned his head at the sound of his voice and actually had the nerve to smile.

"Moonie!" exclaimed Wormtail, rising excitedly to his feet. He rushed to the glass of his cell, grinning honestly at the sight of his old friend. The expression on the face of Lupin, however, quickly reminded him that this was his _former_ friend. "I'm glad you came." That was still the truth, at least.

"I'm elated," intoned Lupin, unknowingly doing a very passable Snape impersonation.

"I can tell," replied Peter, trying to break some of the ice with a snide comment of his own. He waited a moment to see if Remus would counter-respond. Apparently not, it seemed.

"The reason I asked to see you," continued Peter, deciding to return to business, "is I'd like your help. It's something that I think you'll enjoy."

"Does it involve slitting your throat?" asked a semi-serious Lupin.

"Sorry," replied Peter, turning towards his desk. "Maybe for your birthday."

"Then I doubt that there's anything..." continued Remus before stopping at the sight of Wormtail clutching a raft of parchments and heading back his way.

"I need you to check these over," explained Peter. "I've done the best I can, but two memories are better than one, if I might paraphrase a bit."

"What are they?" asked Lupin. He tried to take a peek at some of the headings, but they were turned the wrong way and Pettigrew's handwriting wasn't exactly Greyback perfect.

"Stories," replied Peter, smiling. "Stories of the Marauders and their exploits. Stories of both our times at Hogwarts and our adventures afterwards. Stories of what I knew about James' and Lily's romance." The last part was spoken softer, but still with affection.

"And you want me to proof-read them for you?" asked Remus. He still didn't act like he had any inclination to help.

"Proof-read?" repeated Pettigrew. "I suppose that there would be a bit of that. I also want you to add some comments from your perspective. Flesh it out from another point of view and all."

"Why?" asked Remus.

"I want it to be as good as possible for Harry," explained Wormtail as if stating the obvious. Then, with dawning comprehension, he asked, "Didn't he; Harry, that is, show you the first story I gave him?"

"Story?" repeated Remus, inquisitively. "Harry never mentioned any story."

"Oh," replied Wormtail, with understanding. "That explains why you don't know what I'm talking about. You see, I'm writing about the times I spent with his father. Actually, I'm writing about all of our times together. That's what these are." He indicated the parchments, again. "He said he liked the first one, so I've been writing about everything I can remember. I have enough, now, for a present. A Christmas present. I'd like for you to read through them, as I've said. You can add what you'd like, of course. Just make sure you have enough time to have them bound into a book for Harry." He set the parchments down on a small table near the wall of the cell and backed away, expectantly, ultimately sitting on the edge of his bed.

Remus got the hint and, after removing his wand from its sheath, petrified Wormtail. Touching his ring to the portkey icon, he entered the room. With a glance at Pettigrew, he walked over and picked up the stack. With no intention of spending more time in the direct presence of the traitor than he had to, he popped back out.

"Thanks, Moonie," said Wormtail after he was released.

Remus didn't respond. He was currently flipping through the stories, but he stopped at the seventh title he came across. With a smirk, he showed it to Pettigrew and commented, "I'm surprised you brought this one up. Then again, I suppose the statute of limitations has expired by now."

"Probably," agreed Wormtail. "Of course in my case, it doesn't really matter."

"No," agreed Remus, "but I'd bet Old Man McNaughton might still want a piece of both of us." He laughed.

"He never did have much of a sense of humor," chuckled Wormtail in turn. Getting serious, he confirmed, "So you'll do it, then? In time for Christmas?" He certainly _looked _sincere.

"I'll do it," replied Remus. "I'll see to it that Harry gets your book for Christmas." Remus reapplied the silencing charm on the cell and quickly departed. He had hated Peter for so long for what he had done that this reminder of why he had originally viewed him as a friend; no, make that a brother, troubled him. He had some thinking to do. And some reading.

* * *

Mid-afternoon

"Well, there's one good thing," noted Hermione. "It's unlikely he plans anything sinister against Miss Joplin. A packed restaurant full of the rich and famous would be the last place you'd take someone if you were going to kidnap them, for example."

"True enough," replied Rufus. It was his turn to host, as he and Minerva put it, but some late breaking information had given him the incentive to pick her up. With those pesky privacy laws to deal with, the auror corp couldn't legally tail someone on a hunch. That was where having a relationship with someone like Harry came in handy. "In fact, if the rumors about the Pheather are true, this Knight fellow will be laying down more than a few galleons, and that'll be just for the soup. From your reports, along with his interview, it didn't really sound like he was high enough up in the organization to have that kind of money."

"Or pull," added Harry. "Your friend said that Snape, himself, dropped by to ensure the reservation. He wouldn't have done that unless under direct orders from What's-His-Name." He thought a moment more before shaking his head. "I don't get it. Why is Knight's date with Joplin so important?"

"The important thing," said Ron, "is that it _is_. This is totally out of character for Voldemort. To apparently help one of his low level lackeys with his love life just wouldn't happen unless something else would be accomplished." He looked around the table. "I think that we need someone to be there, tonight, to find out what's going on."

"Maybe one of your elves," suggested Minerva. "They're small enough to fit under the table if need be."

"Maybe," agreed Hermione. "But they'd only be able to report what was said. I doubt that Knight would talk shop out of the blue. A little more guided interaction might be needed."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. "You think we should join them on their date?"

"Join them," said Hermione, "or at least stop by for a few minutes."

"I don't think Jerry would appreciate having his date interrupted with visitors," noted Harry. "Especially with a girl as hot as..."

"Excuse me," interrupted Hermione.

"I mean especially during such a special and expensive dinner. I know I wouldn't like it."

"Are you worried about upsetting the dinner plans of a Death Eater?" asked Rufus, just a little mockingly.

"Well," said Harry, caught, "I suppose a little. Jerry seems nice enough. For a first real date, two's company; three's a crowd."

"It doesn't matter," said Hermione, forcefully. "We can't afford to just guess at what he's up to. Voldemort, I mean. I'm pretty sure I know what your friend, Jerry's up to."

"I agree," stated Rufus. "If some whole new front is going to be opening up, we should find out about it as quickly as possible."

"Okay," said Harry, looking at his watch. "I suppose I'd better stop by and see if we can get reservations on such short notice." He backed out his chair and stood up. "What?" He had noticed everyone was looking at him with an amused, yet slightly exasperated expression. Well, everyone except for Honey.

After just a second or so longer, Rufus turned to Hermione. "Sometimes I still can't tell when he's kidding or really means it."

"Oh, he_ means_ it," replied Hermione. Adjusting her view towards Harry, she explained, "Listen carefully, Harry. You're _Harry Potter_. Rufus is the _Minister of Magic_. We could all just show up and they'd never turn us away."

Harry got the point. He still wasn't convinced, however. "I know that I'm famous and Rufus is important and all," he allowed. "I just don't see how that translates into having a table available. If other people have already been scheduled to sit there, how could they change that? I mean, they've already had to squeeze in Jerry and his date. Having six more unexpected customers might not be... ah, feasible."

"Oh, they'll come up with something," said Rufus, chortling. "I'll take care of it, Harry. I've pulled strings in the past to get things done. I know how to handle it." He glanced at his watch before stating to the table in general, "Why don't we meet in the lounge around six-thirty, and discuss the best way to talk with Knight once we see the layout of the place."

"That sounds fine," said Hermione. "We might even go a bit early. From what I've read in the Prophet, the view from up there is spectacular." She smiled in anticipation as she rose from her seat.

"I thought you didn't like heights," commented Harry. "You almost never accept when I suggest we go flying." He also stood, understanding that the meeting was over.

"It's one thing to sip a cocktail while gazing out the window of a five-star restaurant with a view of the Thames," said Hermione, tersely, as she turned to head out of the Headmistress' office, "and quite another to go hurtling through the air a mile up on the back of a dragon."

"That's true," said Ron to Harry. "It's not as much fun."

"Speaking of fun," said Harry, snapping his fingers as he remembered something, "we were talking about the Yule Ball a while ago, and a suggestion for some, well, _different_ entertainment came up." He sat back down to discuss the plans more fully with the Headmistress.

"You're not actually going to ask her, are you?" asked Hermione, incredulously. "I was just kidding when I didn't object in the first place." She stopped moving, waiting for Harry to give up his mad idea and join her.

"What are you both talking about?" asked McGonagall, looking back and forth between the Potters.

"Oh, Harry wants Fenrir to play a few sets of old time dance music at the Yule Ball," explained Hermione, returning to her chair, but merely resting her hands on the back.

"Fenrir Greyback?" asked McGonagall, somewhat shocked. "Why on earth would you want him to do that?"

"Well," replied Harry, gathering his arguments, "he's pretty good on his trumpet. I guess he used to be some sort of a prodigal with it."

"That's prodigy," corrected Hermione. "Luna and Ginny tend to agree with you."

"Luna and Ginny have heard Greyback playing his trumpet?" asked Ron. He had been preoccupied with his impending fatherhood and hadn't listened closely enough to the idle chit-chat at the dinner tables to remember every detail.

"Luna and Kurt started it," explained Hermione, quickly. "Then Ginny and Neville gave him a listen and joined his fan club, as well."

"Maybe we should sit in on one of his sessions," suggested Rufus to Minerva, "and see if he's worth booking?"

"Whether or not he's a good musician isn't the point," explained McGonagall. "What do you think would happen when it got out that we let a murderous werewolf come into the same room as a bunch of school children?"

"He's not a murderous werewolf, as you put it," countered Harry, "at least not anymore. I don't think he'd cause any trouble."

"To be honest," said Hermione, "I don't, either. Convincing others of that, however, would be nearly impossible."

"I'm afraid I'll have to agree," agreed McGonagall. "The risks are just too great."

"The risks to the students," asked Rufus, "or the risks to yourself?"

"What are you talking about, Rufus?" asked Minerva, quite put out.

"Well," said Rufus, "from what I've heard; just in passing, of course, is that curing Greyback of his lycanthropy has also cured him of his murderous nature. I'm not saying he's ever going to be released, mind you; far from it, but if someone has truly changed, you need to give them the opportunity to prove it. I think young Mr. Malfoy demonstrated the value of that."

"I don't know, Rufus," replied Minerva, moving from opposed to undecided. "What if something went wrong?"

"I've been thinking about that," said Harry. "You remember when the Weird Sisters performed a couple of years ago? They had the coolest stage show with all sorts of outlandish things going on. I was thinking we could have Fenrir come in, you know, all snarling and rabid, covered in chains with a few burly wizards holding him down. That would make his security part of the show, you see."

"I think I see where you're going with this, Harry," said Rufus, rubbing his chin. "Then he'd get hold of a trumpet, somehow..."

"I'll tell you what," said McGonagall, interrupting. "Let's just leave it there for now. I need to get properly prepared if we're going out to a fancy restaurant. I'm sure Honey and Hermione wish to do the same."

"But we won't be leaving for at least three hours," countered Harry, naively.

"Don't be silly," snapped Hermione, dismissively. Turning slightly, she smiled sweetly at Honey and said, "Let's go figure out what we'll wear. I think this'll be the perfect opportunity to try out some of the other jewelry, as well."

"Now _that's_ my idea of _fun_," replied Honey, rising from her chair with a bit of effort.

"I'll get back to you on the Greyback thing, Harry," said Rufus. "I sort of like the idea about the chains and everything. From the concerts I've been to, that would be fairly tame."

"You've been to those sort of concerts?" asked Minerva, stopping just before the door to her suite.

"When I was younger," confirmed Rufus, nodding. "Security detail, you see."

"Oh," replied his girlfriend. "I thought you meant you actually liked the, ah, _music_."

"Not so much," laughed Rufus, "although, once you get over the grunting, shouting, belching and general lack of musical ability, the occasional song comes along that doesn't cause your ears to bleed quite as bad as the rest."

"What a glowing recommendation for modern music," noted Hermione, waiting while Harry finished jotting down a note. "I doubt that you'll need earplugs for tonight, though. I'm sure we'll be dancing to only the finest bands."

"Who said anything about dancing?" asked Harry. "We're just going so we can figure out..."

"If you think that I'm going to all the trouble to get ready for dinner at a fancy restaurant," intoned Hermione, sternly, "and not stay to dance, you've got another think coming, Potter." While not turned up all the way, her expression did put some frost on his capillaries.

"Well, that's settled, then," said Harry, cheerily. Looking around, he added, "We'll see you all tonight, then," as he made a swift retreat.


	133. Chapter 133

Chapter 133 - A Knight on the Town

December 6th, 1997

"Thanks," said Harry, setting ten galleons onto the drink tray. The waitress had brought the tray over to the glass-windowed alcove in the lounge recently claimed by his party and unloaded it onto the tall, chairless table.

"Let's see," said Hermione, temporarily taking the position of hostess and dispersing the drinks since Harry had paid for them, "that's sparkling peppermint for Honey; mead for Harry; rum for Ron; gillywater for Minerva; a clove julep for me and a fire whiskey for Rufus."

"Thanks," said Ron as he turned distractedly away from his observation of a private helicopter making its way to its pad on top of a round building some ten stories below. Looking around for eavesdroppers, he softly asked, "Did you find out where we're sitting, Minister?" The Minister of Magic had left on his mission shortly after the waitress had taken their orders and had returned just in time to receive his drink.

Without looking, Rufus quietly replied, "I did. Follow me to the north balcony. It's a bit more private and we don't want to be standing here when Knight arrives. It'd probably scare him off."

"Good thinking," agreed Harry. They all gathered up their drinks and formed a column behind Rufus.

Just as they were about to leave the lounge area, Rufus stopped and addressed them. Now," he said, quietly, "as we pass the fireplace on our right, the table for eight on the left is ours. Knight's table is about twenty-five feet further on. A young wizard in yellow robes with an attractive date is currently sitting there." With those clues, he casually led his group on what was intended to be a meandering stroll to another, more secluded spot he had discovered, to plan. Naturally, it didn't quite work out that way.

* * *

"Rufus," exclaimed a somewhat; make that full-fledged elderly wizard with virtually no hair on his head except for his sideburns and eyebrows. He stood to greet the Minister of Magic.

"Evening, Clanghorn," replied Rufus, forcing a smile. "Fancy meeting you here." He'd have liked nothing better than to leave it at that, but the aged centenarian had taken up a rather formidable blocking stance in the aisle.

"Quite," replied Clanghorn, jovially as he hiked up his trousers. "Thought I'd try out this place that's been getting so much buzz."

"Great minds," commented Rufus, abridgedly. "Well, we won't detain you from your, ah..." He glanced at the twenty something blonde still seated at their table. As he couldn't pull his gaze from her rather voluptuous figure too quickly, she took it as an invitation to stand.

"Pleased ta meet ya, Guv'ner," she said, extending her hand. As Rufus gently took it, she readjusted her grip to give a hearty handshake.

"Minister, actually," replied a slightly dazed Rufus. The brisk movement of her arm caused a different pair of body parts to be set into oscillation and he was momentarily mesmerized. This was resolved by a quick chop to his kidney by Minerva.

"Ouch," said Rufus, releasing his grip on the woman.

"Why, hello there," said Clanghorn, appreciatively sidling up a bit closer to McGonagall.

"Allow me to introduce Minerva McGonagall," said Rufus, backing slightly away to make introductions. "She's my, ah... she teaches at Hogwarts."

"I'm delighted to meet you," said Minerva, gracefully. "Both of you."

"Charmed," replied Clanghorn, politely, in return. "These would be your, ah, _grandchildren_, then?" He peered down the line through his thick-lensed glasses.

"Yes," agreed Rufus, expediently. "Yes, they are. Harry, Hermione, Ron and ah,..." As Honey was dressed only a half stop short of Clanghorn's date, and with her maternally enhanced figure having a hard time with her strapless dress, his memory had, once again, failed him.

"I'm Honey," said Honey, exacerbating the problem by leaning over to allow Clanghorn to take her hand.

"She'd better not cough," muttered Hermione to McGonagall.

"Well, Clanghorn," said Rufus, after taking a moment to catch his breath, "we'll move on and let you get back to your... ah,..."

"It's no imposition," replied Clanghorn, sincerely. "Miss Boopkins and I just stopped by for a quick snack and a drink or two before the fireworks start."

"Fireworks?" asked Harry. "Who's having fireworks?"

"_I_ am," replied Clanghorn, with a satyrish grin, "just as soon as we return home."

* * *

Once extracting themselves from the couple, they proceeded along without further difficulties to the aforementioned north balcony. This was due almost exclusively to the field testing of a mobile version of the Muffliato spell that Hermione had been playing with. With the permanent environmental charms providing a pleasingly warm atmosphere, they took one of the larger tables near the glass railing and discussed their options.

"What a magnificent view," noted Honey, gazing down the Thames. "London Bridge looks beautiful from here."

Hermione glanced in the same general direction as Honey. "That's Tower Bridge," she corrected. "It's often thought to be London Bridge."

"It is?" asked a slightly disappointed Honey. Realization hitting her, she smiled and said, "Oh, that's right. It couldn't be London Bridge. I've heard that it fell down." Giving Tower Bridge a few more seconds, she continued her scan of the city.

"It _is_ a nice view," commented Harry. "I'm not sure I would have put this jolly large rocket ship ten feet away, but overall..." He nodded his head, appreciatively, as he took in a few more of the available sights.

"That's the Swiss... ah, something building," added Hermione. "I think it was here first. No idea why they built them so close together."

"Anyway," said Rufus, moving things along, "I think that a casual stop by or two won't cut it. We'll need to get Knight to chat with the lot of us for a half hour or so if we want to get anything useful out of him."

"Well," said Hermione, thinking, "our table is on the way to his. We could intercept him as he and Miss Joplin are being seated."

"Too risky," said Ron. "He'd have the option to decline and keep on moving. We need to have him join us." Turning to Rufus, he said, "I assume that's why we have a table for eight."

"No," countered Rufus. "Just lucky on our part. Now, ideally, we'll get them to stay with us long enough to get comfortable with the idea. That's the key, you see. A lot of conversation that has nothing to do with anything will get Knight off his guard. Then we'll casually mention that we made our reservations a couple of weeks ago and have been looking forward to coming for dinner. I think I'll do that. Either Harry or Ron could then ask Knight, just out of curiosity, how far in advance he had had to plan his date."

"Coming up with a plausible lie on such short notice would be fairly unlikely," said Harry. "You normally need at least a few seconds to properly realize the necessity and decide on the direction you need to take, so he'll most likely have to tell the truth." He took another sip of his drink.

"Spoken by the mouth of experience," quipped Hermione.

"I don't really think he'd be good at that, at any rate," said Minerva. "Making up a story, that is. It's been quite a while since I taught him, but he always seemed fairly honest and well-behaved."

"So much the better," said Ron. "If he admits to having Voldemort being the source of his reservations, he'd almost have to expect to explain what he did to deserve them."

"Considering that that's about all we know about it," added Rufus, "the fact that Snape, himself, came down to secure the reservations, we'll hopefully be able to solve the mystery of why he'd bother."

"It's about a quarter of," said Ron, having just looked at his watch. "Minister. Do you think you could arrange for Knight's table to remain unavailable for another half hour or so?"

"I suppose," replied Rufus, also looking at his watch, despite the fact that Ron had just told him the time. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well," explained Ron, "we'll all stay out here until our table's ready. As they were clearing it up as we passed, that shouldn't be long. Once we've settled in, Harry could go back to the lounge; you know, just to order another round of drinks or something. If Jerry and his date have already arrived, they'd probably have been shunted there, just as we were. If not, we'll repeat the process a few minutes later."

"I see," said Hermione, comprehendingly. "They bump into each other. Harry invites the two of them to join us for drinks while they're waiting. Bippity boppity boo, they're at our table."

"That's the second time I've heard you use that phrase," said Rufus. "It's a bit unusual. Where did you pick it up?"

"Bippity boppity boo?" asked Hermione. "Oh, that's from a movie I just loved as a child. It's called 'Cinderella'. It's about a poor girl whose mother had died. After a few years, her father decided that..."

"Hold that thought," said Minerva, putting a hand on Hermione's arm. Turning to her boyfriend, she said, "Perhaps you should attend to your mission, Rufus, and we'll get back to bippity whatever during dinner."

"Right," agreed Rufus, draining his tumbler as he rose. "I'll be right back." He took a few asymmetrical steps before slipping back through the glass door to the main dining room.

* * *

"I saw it once," said Harry.

"Saw what?" asked Hermione.

"Cinderella," replied Harry. "Most of it, anyway." At Hermione's surprised look, he explained, "At Mrs. Figg's house. She'd let me watch the telly when she sat for me."

"Mrs. Figg?" asked Honey. Even Ron looked confused, although the name had sounded familiar.

"She was my sitter when I was little," said Harry. "Had a whole herd of cats. They were like her children."

"Crazy cat lady, eh?" asked Ron, rhetorically.

"Pretty much," agreed Harry. "You might not remember, but she was also the squib that was assigned by Grampa to watch over me while I was growing up."

"That's where I heard the name," exclaimed Ron, snapping his fingers.

"That's right," nodded Minerva. "Arabella didn't have a lot to offer to the Order as far as magical ability, but her cadre of cats kept a fairly good watch on you."

"I know," said Harry. "She was the one who met me after the dementor attack with Dudley. I suppose one of her cats told her about it."

"Probably," agreed Hermione. "I'd like to meet her. I've tried to perform the Familiarus enchantment with Crookshanks, but it doesn't seem to want to take. She might have some suggestions."

"You've been trying to make your cat a familiar?" asked Minerva.

"Yes," replied Hermione, turning to someone she had overlooked as another possible authority on the subject. "Crookshanks should be a good candidate for it, according to what I've read, but it just doesn't seem to be working out."

"That isn't surprising," said McGonagall, "considering your level of intelligence."

"You've lost me," said Harry. "Are you saying that Hermione isn't smart enough?" He knew that couldn't be right, but it had certainly sounded that way.

"Of course not," scoffed McGonagall. "Quite the opposite, in fact. It's quite likely that Hermione is _too_ smart to have a familiar."

"Now you've lost _me_," admitted Hermione. "Most of the books I've read stated that to be a suitable familiar, the animal must have a superior level of intelligence. They didn't mention anything about the witch or wizard."

"It isn't usually an issue," explained the Headmistress. "To be compatible with each other magically, the familiar and wizard need to be within a reasonable range intellectually. Cats are naturally quite intelligent so they are commonly chosen."

"Hold on a moment," said Ron. "How do you know that cats are naturally smart?"

"What does a cat do all day?" asked Harry, injecting himself into the discussion.

"Well," answered Ron, thinking. "Eat and sleep is about all I can think of."

"Right," said Harry. "If their owners are real taskmasters, they might have to play with a bit of yarn, too. In exchange, we feed them, keep them warm and dry, pet them and let them poop in a box which we then have to clean for them."

"We get the point, Potter," said McGonagall. "The reason that the animal needs to be intelligent has to do with what the Familiarus enchantment actually does. Put in the simplest terms, it forms a sort of conduit between the two minds. Thoughts can flow between them like water running down a pipe. The pipe can be tilted either way, within reason, allowing the thoughts to pass back and forth. In Hermione's case, however, the spell isn't enough. Even with the assistance of the Familiarus enchantment, most animals wouldn't be able to raise their end of the pipe high enough for their thoughts to flow to her. There would be some limited benefit to a one-way transfer, but true familiarity would require a most extraordinarily intelligent creature in order to pull it off with her. Albus, of course, had the same problem. He managed to solve it when he found Fawkes."

"I see," said Harry. "That must have been what was happening when we communicated before we merged."

"But you didn't cast the Familiarus enchantment, did you?" asked Hermione. "Or is it some ability that comes naturally to phoenixes?" She had initially directed the question to Harry, but had shifted to McGonagall since she wanted an answer.

"I believe," began the Headmistress, carefully, "that Fawkes probably has some inherent skill in that area. Then again, the true answer behind that mystery is most likely concerned with who was holding the highest end of the pipe."

"Perhaps we should change the subject," suggested Hermione, before Harry could work out what Minerva was subtly trying to get at.

"Why don't we decide what we'd like to have for dinner," suggested Honey.

"We'd need menus for that, wouldn't we?" asked Ron.

"That gentleman over there," replied Honey, pointing at the waiter who had just stepped through the door, "looks like he has a stack of them." She happened to be facing in the right direction to notice the new arrival virtually immediately.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," said the waiter. "If you'd be kind enough to follow me, your table is ready." He stepped back to allow them room to queue up.

* * *

It didn't take them long, since they were all on the hungry side. Ron, of course, was famished; not having eaten for at least two hours.

"This way, please," said the waiter as he led them back to their table. On the way, they noticed that the wizard in yellow, along with his date, had finished their dessert and had departed. If Rufus had completed his assignment, that wouldn't matter, of course.

"Could you have this chair removed," requested Harry, indicating what would, under normal circumstances, have been Ron's seat.

"Of course, sir," agreed the waiter, immediately. He pulled his wand and vanished the chair. Harry then summoned the custom made stool that worked much better with Ron's carpet.

"Where's Rufus?" asked Minerva, looking around. The Minister of Magic was nowhere to be seen.

"He's probably making some other arrangements," said Hermione. "I'll bet he's done things like this countless times. There must be dozens of details to be taken care of to make sure it comes off smoothly."

"Or," counter-suggested Ron, "he might have had to go to the W.C." He indicated the elderly wizard making his irregular way towards their table.

"Oh, bloody hell," muttered McGonagall. "Another wizard intent on delaying Rufus." Indeed, a moderately young man with a tall, yet sturdy build, had managed to buttonhole Scrimgeour.

"Comes with the office, I suppose," commented Harry. He watched as Rufus was introduced to the rest of the family seated at the table.

"Perhaps I should go collect him," suggested Hermione, rising to her feet.

"I'll come with..." began Harry, scooting his own chair back a bit.

"Sit down," interrupted Hermione, brusquely. Passing by, she leaned over and whispered, "Do you really think having Harry Potter walk through the middle of the restaurant will speed things up?" She straightened back up, smirking as she surreptitiously pulled her wand. "Just wait here."

* * *

The remaining members of the party watched as Hermione meandered past the dozen or so tables that lay between themselves and Rufus; now entangled in another round of greetings. The more experienced members of the quartet silently hoped that no one would be unfortunate enough to make a sudden movement near Hermione. The concentration paid to her by her rightly overprotective husband was palpable to them all.

As Hermione finally met up with Rufus, the diners who had been keeping an eye on his progress suddenly found themselves turning back to their meals; the momentary distraction having faded from their consciousness. With the hilt of her wand firmly in hand, but the shaft hidden behind her purse, Hermione led Rufus back to the others with no further delays.

"You'll have to teach me that variant," remarked Rufus as he took the chair next to Minerva. "Not that there aren't times when it's nice to be noticed." He picked up his menu.

"Good evening," said the waiter, wasting no time. "My name is Rupert and I'll be your waiter for the evening. Could I take your orders for drinks while you decide on your meals?" He waited, pad in hand.

"Yes," said Ron. "I'd like..."

"No," interrupted Hermione, forcefully. "We'll, ah... we'll get them ourselves, later."

"I beg your pardon," replied Rupert.

"Don't bother with the drinks," repeated Hermione. "We... ah..." She couldn't think of a viable reason to not have them brought straightaway by Rupert so she let the order stand without explanation.

Looking around at the rest of the group for contrary requests, Rupert finally replied, "Very good. I'll return in a few minutes to take your orders." Slipping his pad back into his vest pocket, he made his way back towards the kitchen; taking care, of course, to check on the patrons dining at his other tables.

"Is Rupert going to be able to find his way back?" asked Harry. He had noticed that no one at the nearby tables seemed to be aware of them.

"Well," said Hermione,"I _hope_ so. He was part of the group when I cast the Muffliato spell, but I'm not sure if it holds up when you leave and then return." She glanced fleetingly at Minerva for signs of disagreement. Minerva's response was to shrug.

"We'll find out, I suppose," offered Rufus, sagely. He picked up his glass of water and, after a disappointed look, set it back down. "It's just past seven, Harry. Why don't you go and get the first round of drinks?"

"Second round, actually," replied Harry, rising. "Same as before?" He looked around the table for confirmations. With no one offering any changes, he headed back to the lounge.

* * *

"It's a message from Parks," said Snape, reading the scroll enchanted with the Protean Charm. "He hasn't seen Knight, yet, but Scrimgoeur and Potter have turned up."

"What?" asked the Dark Lord, grabbing the scroll to see for himself. The lettering flowed across the parchment as Parks wrote it. "The mudblood is there, as well, along with McGonagall and another wizard and witch. Must be Weasley. He says he's on a carpet."

"This can't be a coincidence," said Snape, stating the obvious. "But how? Knight isn't even there."

"We've got a leak," deduced Voldemort. He thought back to that morning. "It was foolish to talk so openly about the arrangements. Anyone might have overheard." Thrusting the parchment back at Snape, he ordered, "Do nothing for the moment. Let events unfold naturally, but have a dozen men on standby, just in case an opportunity presents itself."

"Yes, my Lord," replied Snape. He left to pick the twelve men who he could most afford to lose.

* * *

"I must say," said a slightly giddy Julie Joplin as she took in the view from their seats in the lounge of the decidedly top tier restaurant, "I certainly didn't expect to be dining in the Phoenix Pheather tonight."

"Neither did I," replied Jerry Knight, momentarily lapsing into honesty with his date. Abruptly catching himself, he switched into smooth-talker mode. "I mean, I had planned to take you to a normal restaurant, but upon reflection, I decided that a special girl like you deserved only the best." He smiled winningly as he took a sip of his scotch and water.

"Ooh," cooed Julie, snuggling a bit closer to Jerry. "You're going to spoil me." She reached up and gave him a quick kiss. "I like that in a man."

Jerry, never having had a lot of experience with showering a girl with riches, wasn't sure where to go from here. Deciding to reach for the low hanging fruit, he put his arm around her and tried to find an interesting subject to point out from the spectacular view of the city.

Harry looked around the lounge. Within a few seconds, he managed to recognize Jerry from behind. To be more accurate, he recognized Julie from behind. Her distinctive auburn hair had been styled to curl around her neck in a fairly unique manner. Quickly placing his order for another round of drinks, and not without a pang of guilt at having to ruin an intimate moment, Harry strolled over behind them.

"Quite the view, isn't it." Harry decided to begin with something obvious. Neither Jerry nor Julie took notice.

"I said," said Harry, raising his voice, "it's quite a nice view."

Jerry turned his head to tell the idiot behind him to bugger off. "Yes, it's a nice... Oh, hi, Potter." At the pronouncement of the name, Julie also spun around.

"Hi, Jerry," replied Harry, distractedly. "Good evening, ah..." Harry had heard Julie's name several times in the past hour, but upon the sudden appearance of her _charms_, he was struck speechless. His primary mission momentarily forgotten, he could only wonder on exactly how it was possible for women to keep themselves within the confines of such low-cut dresses. Perhaps some sort of glue was involved.

"Oh, sorry," said Jerry, deciding to make some quick introductions. "Julie Joplin; this is Harry Potter. Harry; Julie."

"Pleased to meet you, again, Harry," said Julie, offering her hand. "We've met a few times at the Prophet, of course."

"Oh, that's right," said Harry, pretending to just now remember. "You're not dressed quite the same."

"I should hope not," replied Jerry. After a moment's pondering, he noted, "Although, they'd probably have a lot more blokes stopping by if she did." Both Harry and Jerry laughed at the thought, but Julie self-consciously pulled her shawl a bit more fully over her chest.

"Here you go, Mr. Potter," said the barman, sliding the tray to the other side of the bar.

"Thanks," replied Harry. He pulled another ten galleons out of his money bag. "Say, Jerry," he said as if only just thinking of it, "why don't you and Julie join us for drinks while you're waiting for your table?"

"We wouldn't want to impose," replied Jerry, quickly.

"It's not an imposition," countered Harry.

"No, really," retorted Jerry, again. He nodded his head meaningfully at Julie.

Harry could tell when he was being told to sod off, but that wasn't an option. Upping the ante, he said, "It's just a few of us. My friend, Ron, and his wife and Minister Scrimgeour and Headmistress McGonagall."

"No..." began Jerry, but he was cut off.

"I've never met the Minister of Magic," said Julie, brightly. Turning to Jerry, she asked, "Couldn't we stop over for a few minutes? It'd only be until our table frees up." She glanced up at him appealingly, and, more importantly, suggestively.

The unwritten rule for first dates is to agree with whatever the woman wants. It also happens to be the unwritten rule for the second through ninety-fifth dates as well as for the duration of a happy marriage. The upside to following this rule is that occasionally, sometimes _very_ occasionally, she'll agree to what _you_ want.

"Well..." began Jerry, weakening.

"That's settled, then," declared Harry, prematurely. "Let me freshen your drinks for you and we'll be off." He turned back to the barman and indicated he should add replacements for the additional couple. By the time this was accomplished, Harry had added another few galleons to the stack and the lot of them set off.

* * *

After polite introductions were made; Minerva began the banter. "I must say," she said, affecting an astonished tone, "I doubt that I'd have recognized either of you if we'd met on the street."

"Well," replied Jerry, "it has been a few years, hasn't it?" Realizing his mistake, he quickly added, "for me, of course. I suppose Julie's only been out of school for five or six years."

Julie smiled at this, but corrected him by admitting, "I believe it's closer to seven." She took a quick sip of her Buck's Fizz. She hadn't lied at all. The amount of time since she had attended Hogwarts was, indeed, closer to seven years. Well, it was closer than five or six, at least.

"That sounds about right," agreed Minerva, aiding in the deception. "The point I was trying to make, of course, was that both of you seem to have matured exceedingly well. In other words, you make quite the handsome couple. Have you known each other long?"

"Just a few days, actually," replied Jerry. He looked at Julie for a more accurate answer.

"We originally met last Monday," said Julie, "but that was just for a minute. It wasn't until Wednesday that we spent any amount of time together."

"A freshly minted couple, eh?" asked Rufus, charmingly. "There's nothing like the first few dates, are there. Learning a bit about each other's likes and dislikes. Getting the feel of one other." He smiled a second before quickly adding, "Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Of course," agreed Jerry, embarrassed by the minister's inadvertent double entendre.

"So you first spent some time together on Wednesday?" asked Hermione. At their nods, she asked, "Was that the day of the interview?"

"Yes," replied Julie. "Jerry stopped by to set up a time. The appointment was made for that afternoon so we went out together for lunch."

"Just like that?" asked Honey. "You'd only just met."

"Well," replied Julie, coyly, "as Professor McGonagall has pointed out, Jerry's matured well." She smiled appreciatively at him and he blushed in mild embarrassment.

"Excuse me," said Rupert, coming up between Jerry and Julie, "are we ready to order?"

"Good grief," said Rufus in sudden realization, "we haven't even looked at the menus, yet." He quickly picked up his.

"We'd better be going," said Jerry, attempting to stand.

"Nonsense," said Rufus. "Why don't you join us?"

"Oh, really," replied Jerry, "we couldn't."

"Please do," requested Harry. "It'll be my treat."

"Well," faltered Jerry, looking back to Julie for some guidance.

"We'd love to," said Julie, adjusting herself more comfortably in her chair.

"We'd love to," repeated Jerry, weakly. He had had high hopes of a quiet evening filled with romantic conversation; specifically the type of dialog you couldn't have in large groups.

* * *

Snape returned to his Master. The news wasn't exactly bad, but it wasn't necessarily good, either. "My Lord," he said.

"Yes?" asked Voldemort. He could see the parchment in Snape's hand, but chose to have his minion read it to him.

"Knight has arrived," reported Snape. "His date is with him. They were almost immediately contacted by Potter."

"He knew they'd be coming," summed up Voldemort, nodding. He had expected as much. "Well? What happened to him?"

"It would appear," replied Snape, unsure what to make of it, himself, "that Knight and his girl were invited to join the Potter table. They've apparently accepted."

"What?" asked a clearly befuddled Dark Lord.

Snape didn't bother repeating himself. Instead, he shrugged and offered the parchment in order for his Master to read for himself.

"I'm going to want to talk with Knight the moment he returns," said Voldemort. "I don't care what time it is."

"Yes, Master," said Snape, obediently. He'd like to sit in on that conversation, himself.

* * *

The recently enlarged group of diners all settled in to peruse their menus. Since food was involved, Ron had finished his analysis of the Starters section and had a few questions.

"Why in the world," he asked, incredulously, "would anyone in their right mind want to eat a calf's tail?"

"Good Lord," exclaimed Honey. "Where do you see that?" She scanned the menu more fully.

"It comes with the rice and flesh," replied Ron.

"I'm still trying to figure out the meat fruit," contributed Rufus.

"Or the roast marrowbone," added Harry. "I'm not sure what it is, but it comes with snails." Looking pointedly out the windows, he asked, "We haven't overshot London and gone on to France, have we." Everyone laughed. Well, all the men did, anyway.

"I'll tell you what," said Hermione, turning to a slightly impatient Rupert, "bring us one each of the starters. They can't be as bad as they sound, so we'll try them all and figure out what we like for ourselves."

"Very good, miss," replied Rupert in his 'the customer's always right' tone.

"Just one thing," said Rufus. "You can jolly well keep the snails in the kitchen."

"I'll second that," said Ron, emphatically. He'd eat almost anything, but he had his limits.

"Of course," said Rupert. "Now, if we could move on to the main course." Everyone turned the page in their menus.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "Powdered duck breast? How would you even _do_ that?"

"I don't intend to find out," said Honey. "The roast halibut sounds good, though."

"At least we can figure out what it is," replied Harry.

"Here we go," said Ron, triumphantly. "Bone in rib of Hereford prime."

"That's sounds good," agreed Hermione. "It says its for two."

"Two Rons?" asked Minerva, raising her eyebrow.

"Well, probably not two _Rons_," allowed Hermione. "I wouldn't mind sharing one with... Hold it. I'd prefer the fillet of angus." Looking up at Rupert, she added, "Medium rare, please."

"I'm game for that prime rib," said Ron. "Medium, for me."

"We'll have the prime rib, as well," said Rufus, indicating Minerva as the other half of the 'we'.

"I'm in the mood for fish," said Julie, tentatively. "I've never had cod in cider. Let's try that."

"I'm with you," agreed Honey, "but I'll stick with the halibut."

"Powdered duck breast," said Jerry. Looking around the table, he added, "Just out of curiosity."

"Hereford ribeye," said Harry. "Medium, please."

Counting the orders, Rupert then asked, "Very good. Now for your side dishes, your choices are ..."

"Just put an assortment of the sides in chafing dishes," interrupted Hermione, trying to streamline things a bit. "We'll gather it ourselves as the need arises."

"Probably a good idea," agreed Rupert, making a note. Looking back up, he asked, "And your choice of wines?" With both fish, red and white meat, there would naturally be more than one type.

"Let's see," said Rufus, perusing the wine list. "Hmm. We'll have... Hmm." Dropping the wine menu to the table, he said, "I'll have to admit that I don't get out to this sort of place that often. I only recognize about one in four of these labels." He looked around the table to see if anyone wanted to take over the selection process.

"I've heard something about white wine with fish," said Harry, unhelpfully. "Or was that red?"

"Rupert," said Hermione, signaling for him to come closer, as she pushed for expediency, once again.

"Yes, miss?" replied Rupert, complying.

"Is there a sommelier on duty?" asked the annoyed, but experienced witch.

"Of course, miss," replied Rupert. "Monsieur Jacques L'Iivrogne. He's..."

"Show Jack our order," interrupted Hermione, "and have him pick out a selection of wines that will go with the meal."

"Very good, miss," replied Rupert. The cost of this dinner party, along with the expected tip, had just gone up substantially.

"Oh," added Hermione, "no more than one glass of wine for Honey." She indicated the stunning redhead.

"I'm expecting," explained Honey, smiling brightly.

"Congratulations," replied Rupert. Checking his lengthy notes, he stated, "If that will be all, I'll see to your orders. I'll bring out our dessert and sweet wines menus towards the end of the main course." With that, he turned to a pair of assistant waiters and directed them to make room for the addition of the chafing dishes.

* * *

"Well, ah, _Jerry_," said Ron, trying to ignore the hustle and bustle of the restaurant staff behind him, "I believe your former job was broom maker. Do you still keep up with the news in that field?"

"A bit," allowed Jerry. "Once in awhile, I'm able to get together with a few close mates from the old store and we talk shop."

"That's great," said a slightly more interested Ron. "Have you heard anything about the possibility of a Firebolt Mark II coming out next year? I've heard there's been some talk."

"It's more than just talk," replied Jerry, leaning in. "So far, it's only been rumors, but Henry Fadden; he's one of the owners of the shop where I worked; well, he said that there's been some sort of hush hush testing going on up at the Horncastle proving grounds."

"Have any specifics been leaked?" asked Harry, leaning in, the better to hear the scoop.

"Here we go," sighed Hermione, countering Harry by leaning back in her chair.

"Nothing's been confirmed," replied Jerry, his own interest being stoked by the younger men's enthusiasm, "but the best guessers are betting on some sort of a honeycomb modification."

"That's it?" asked a slightly disappointed Ron. "They're shaving a few ounces off the shaft and calling it the Mark II?"

"Not at all," replied Jerry. Looking around as if to check for unauthorized eavesdroppers, he leaned in even closer and explained. "They think that it's to provide more interior surface area for the release of magic. Currently, as I'm sure you're aware, there are two counter-rotated and rifled conduits in the Firebolt. That's to prevent a difference in axial rotation between right and left turns. "

"That's why it has the ellipsoidal shape," added Harry to show his comprehension of the feature.

"Exactly," said Jerry. "The rumors are indicating something similar, but radically different."

"Should we rearrange the seating?" asked Julie with a severely miffed tone to her voice.

"What?" asked Jerry, pulled grudgingly back from the deeply enjoyable discussion.

"I asked if the three of you would prefer to sit closer together," repeated Julie.

Jerry was about to answer honestly, but quickly caught on. "Of course not," he lied. "I'm afraid it's been almost a month since I've been able to have this sort of a conversation and... well, we sort of got swept away."

"I noticed," said an equally ignored Hermione. With a bit of a knowing smirk, she added, "Personally, I'm surprised that with both Honey and Julie looking so... well, let's say _stunning _in those dresses, that any of you were even able to string three words together." Indeed, if there were a discount for cleavage, they'd all be eating for free.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "You're right, of course. We should have been paying more attention to you ladies."

"Don't worry," added Rufus. "I've been picking up the slack. Ooph!"

"Try to behave," ordered McGonagall as Rufus rubbed his ribs. Turning to Julie and Jerry, she added, "I'm sorry. He's usually able to maintain the illusion of good manners for up to a half hour." This time, it was both Harry and Ron who snorted their opinions on the matter.

"So tell us, Julie," asked Hermione, "what do you think of your new boss?" She wanted to move the discussion onto something other than the physical charms of the more openly voluptuous women.

"Mr. Lovegood?" asked Julie, automatically. "He's nice enough. Always says good morning and all." She paused a moment to locate and properly distribute a dollop of bleu cheese dressing on her salad. "Or did you mean professionally?"

"I'm not sure," replied Hermione, honestly. "Professionally, I guess."

"Well," elaborated Julie, "he's definitely taking the paper in a more open direction. That should liven things up a bit."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. He had to back up a few inches to allow the last of the starters to be placed on the table.

"Well," said Julie, trying to think of the right words, "he wants to make sure that the _whole _story is told; not just the popular side." She pointed at Jerry and continued with, "Take Jerry, for example. I don't think Mr. Cuffe would have actually invited someone like Jerry to stop by and give an interview. He was terrified of the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who."

"Who isn't?" asked Honey, apparently not noticing the irony of her comment, considering her other dinner companions.

"Exactly," agreed Julie. "I can't say I blame him, all things considered." She took a bite of her salad.

"I'm pretty sure that he wasn't always happy when I stopped by, either," opined Harry, smiling.

"You mean like when you had him dangling over a cliff?" asked Hermione. "Or perhaps the time you had a wand battle in his office?" She placed some of the roast scallops on her plate next to the buttered sprout tops.

"I'd have to say," said Harry, leaning back and squinting his eyes in thought, "that he was probably the most frightened about the wand fight. Of course a lot of that probably had to do with the way the first Death Eater splattered..."

"Harry," interrupted Hermione, grabbing his arm to get his attention, "We're trying to eat. Besides, Jerry's sitting right there." She nodded meaningfully in the direction of their guest.

Harry looked directly at Jerry, who squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Turning back to Hermione, he said, "I'm not sure I get your point. I haven't done anything to Jerry, yet."

"What do you mean by 'yet'?" asked Julie, looking first at Jerry before returning her attention to Harry.

"Nothing," said Harry, automatically. "Well, nothing that's already planned, at least. Maybe someday..." He decided to let it drop. Unfortunately, Jerry didn't get the memo.

"Someday, what?" asked a now thoroughly shaken Jerry. "Someday you'll probably kill me?"

"The possibility exists," stated Rufus. "You _are _a Death Eater, after all."

"I suppose it does," agreed Harry. "If the need arose, I might have to."

"So where does that leave me?" asked Julie, petulantly. "Here I am; getting to know Jerry. He's a nice bloke so we'll probably continue to date for awhile. Who knows where it might lead? Then one day, 'Pow!'; you kill him." Jerry jumped nervously when Julie said 'Pow'.

"I wouldn't just kill him," challenged Harry. "Not without some sort of a reason, at least."

"That's reassuring," said Jerry, unconvincingly.

"It's true," argued Harry. "You remember when I came to get Cathy?"

"Joe Diben's wife," confirmed Jerry.

"Yes," continued Harry. "Well, I didn't kill anyone, did I? A few of your guys even took a shot at me and I only stunned them."

"That was thoughtful of you," commented Julie. "So maybe Jerry will survive after all."

"Most likely," agreed Harry.

"Then again," said Ron, thoughtfully, "at some point, it might not be in our interest, tactically, to leave any of the Death Eaters alive if we have a chance to eliminate them. That's just more men for Voldemort..."

"Oh!" exclaimed Julie. Jerry had also jumped, but managed to keep fairly calm.

"What is it?" asked Harry, looking around before returning his gaze to the table in search of an errant snail.

"He said..." explained a shaken Julie, pointing at Ron, "the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Oh, sorry," said Ron. "Sometimes it's hard to remember that not everyone's used to that."

"Perhaps," proposed Minerva, "for the sake of a more enjoyable evening, we set aside any further talk of Harry killing Mr. Knight."

"I can live with that," muttered Jerry, ironically.

"Fair enough," agreed Harry. Seeing that Julie was still a bit upset, he promised, "I'll tell you what, Julie. Even if I do end up having to eliminate all of the Death Eaters; as long as the two of you are dating, I'll kill Jerry last."

* * *

After a few more minutes, during which time everyone finished filling their plates with their first choices of starters, Julie asked, "So, Honey. You say you're expecting? When are you due?"

"Sometime in the middle of August," replied Honey, happily. "I'm hoping more towards the start of the month. School starts up again on the first of September, you know."

"Even so," said Julie, "that might be a bit too soon to get back to teaching."

"I've already taken that into account," stated McGonagall. "Since we'd probably only be talking about a week or so, one of us," she nodded towards Hermione, "could help out when necessary."

"Do you have a mouse in your pocket?" muttered Hermione. She had had quite enough of teaching, thank you very much.

"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?" asked Julie, continuing with her questioning.

"Given that it will be a Weasley," began Honey, "what I _hope for _probably won't matter. Most likely, it will be a boy. From what I've learned since marrying Ron; Ginny; that's his sister, was the only girl born into the Weasley family for generations."

"That must have been a welcome surprise," responded Julie. "After all those boys, to finally have a sweet little girl."

"You haven't _met_ Ginny, have you?" asked Hermione.

"Maybe it was just the law of percentages kicking in," suggested Minerva. "Arthur and Molly had six sons before Ginny. Maybe you just need to keep at it."

"Molly wants us to take that route," agreed Honey. "At least a dozen, if you take her literally. Personally, I want to see how the first one goes before I commit to that sort of a schedule."

"Penalty," said Harry, affecting an official tone. At Hermione's look, he explained, "You made us stop talking about brooms. Now you're all babbling on about having children."

"They're hardly equivalent subjects for conversation," replied Hermione.

"That's true," agreed Rufus. "One's boring as hell."

"At least we can agree on that," noted Minerva. After a moment, she gave Rufus a sharp glance as she determined that his, and probably Harry's, Ron's and Jerry's opinion of which subject was the boring one most likely differed from the women's view.

"Let's move onto something pleasant that we can all agree on," said Ron. "Namely, how absolutely fabulous our women are."

"Your_ women_?" asked Hermione, pointedly.

"Ladies, then," said Ron, dismissively. "Now, we've all learned quite a bit about Jerry from his interview, so let's bring it up a level and find out a little about Julie. What's the most important thing to know about you?" He had decided that they might be able to turn the focus of the table talk back to Jerry through the subterfuge of learning more about his date. He also didn't mind having a legitimate reason to have her in the center of his field of view.

"The most important thing to know about me?" asked Julie, trying to think of an appropriate response.

"Besides the obvious, I assume, such as your exceptional beauty," added Jerry, trying to rack up a few points.

"Well," began Julie, smiling at the transparent compliment while trying to think of something witty and insightful, "I suppose the best kept secret about me is that I don't really want to be a receptionist my whole life."

"Why is that a secret?" asked Honey. This follow-up question doubled the level of enjoyment of the conversation for Harry as he, unlike Ron, had an excellent view of both Honey and Julie and had just been given an excuse to gaze back and forth between them.

"It wasn't intended to be," replied Julie, having just finished her salad and currently examining her other options. "I'd really like to do some stories for the paper."

"So you'd like to be a reporter," concluded Hermione, plopping the last of the veal sweetbread into her mouth.

"In a sense," confirmed Julie, halfheartedly. "I'd say more of an interviewer that a straight reporter."

"You'd like to do investigations, then?" asked Rufus, giving his fork a break long enough to give Julie his full attention while waiting for an answer. He wasn't dead yet, either.

"I'm not sure what you'd call it," admitted Julie, "but I'd like to talk to interesting people and write about them." She leaned back and turned towards her date while adding, "Just like the interview with Jerry. I'd like to do that sort of thing."

"Why don't you, then?" asked Hermione.

"Well," replied Julie, "I had discussed the idea with Mr. Cuffe, but he didn't seem very enthusiastic about it all. I haven't approached Mr. Lovegood, yet; him being so busy with learning the new job, you see."

"I'm sure he'd give you a chance," said Harry. "In the meantime, you could do a few stories on your own. The article on Jerry, for example, could have come out at any time. Pick a few of your more interesting friends and interview them. Then, when you talk with Linus, you'd have some examples for him."

"That sounds like a good idea in any event," agreed Julie. "It would be good practice, if nothing else."

"It might be easier to get your work published than you think," added Ron, beginning his gambit. "I think an interesting series of articles might be found just by going into a little more depth on the world of the Death Eaters. To take Jerry as an example, once again, it would seem that he's fairly well situated in the ranks. He's probably worked on detailed research for any number of subjects. I'm sure he'd be able to tell an interesting tale or two, if properly motivated." He gave Jerry an encouraging, yet inquisitive look.

"I suppose my job has had its moments," agreed Jerry, trying to come up with an interesting example. "Recently, the project that took off in the most unexpected directions was discovering what could be found out about your so called 'Fortress of Solitude.' Now that was a tough nut to crack. At first..."

* * *

Snape quietly opened the Dark Lord's bedroom door. The room was quite dark, but he could tell from the subdued red glow coming from behind Voldemort's eyelids that his Master was at least mostly asleep. Deciding that the latest update, despite being troubling, didn't warrant the awakening of his boss, he closed the door, again, just as quietly. Looking back at the one sentence, he momentarily had second thoughts, but decided to ignore them. Even if Knight was doing most of the talking, there wasn't much they could do about it, anyway. It would all be sorted out during his return interview.

* * *

Yet another burst of laughter distracted the nearby patrons from their own conversations. The Muffliato spell had faded during the course of the evening, but her two full glasses of the 1980 vintage Barolo 'Gran Bussia' had served to prevent its caster from noticing as she had temporarily settled into a contented semi-conscious haze.

Jerry took another sip of what was becoming his favorite wine; a 1973 Chateau Latour Premier Cru Class. This was unfortunate since he'd never be able to afford it on his own. It had revealed a hidden cost, as well. With the freely flowing lubrication had come a string of tales that had become more humorous as the assorted bottles had become less full. Unfortunately for Jerry, the funniest stories didn't present his boss in the best light.

"And he didn't kill them all?" asked an incredulous, yet mirthful Harry, momentarily; well, once again forgetting his manners and speaking with his mouth full; in this case with his third re-order of the triple-cooked chips that had originally come with his long since consumed ribeye.

"Believe me," replied Jerry, "you're not the only one who was surprised."

"I suppose not," agreed Rufus, pulling the remains of his prime rib further away from the lustful eyes of Ron. "I'd expect the experiment ended shortly after that episode." He had also enjoyed more than his share of wine that evening, but his auror eyes still noticed when one of Harry's forks fell from the edge of the table. What he specifically noted was that it had no legitimate reason to have done so.

"Pretty much," confirmed Jerry as Harry bent to retrieve his errant cutlery.

"We need to talk, Mr. Potter," whispered Monty as he handed Harry his fork.

"Are you alright, dear," asked Hermione, brought back to a higher level of awareness by both hearing and feeling the rather forceful thump as Harry's head hit the underside of the table.

"I've had worse," replied Harry, sitting back up. Rubbing the back of his head, he said, "I need to use the restroom, though."

"I didn't think they were connected," said Honey. She laughed at her silly comment. Apparently, even one glass of Pavillon Blanc was sufficient to put her in her happy place. She was joined by Julie, to the continuing delight of the men at the table. It seemed that a fair bit of alcohol, coupled with Julie's distinctive laugh, caused her to bounce up and down rather forcefully. Harry waited until the oscillations damped out before returning to business.

"I won't be a moment," he said, rising. With a quick decision, he headed off towards the more distant, but better hidden set of rest rooms in the main lounge.

Standing outside the men's room door, he quickly sensed that there were currently no occupants. "In here," he whispered to Monty.

Once safely inside, Monty said, "There seems to be a Death Eater observing your party, Mr. Potter."

"A Death Eater?" asked Harry. "Where is he?"

"He is in the superstructure of the unusual building to the north," replied Monty, lowering his invisibility cloak to talk. "He is using omnioculars for his surveillance."

"Hmm," replied Harry. "Just watching,eh? Well, I suppose he isn't hurting anything. We have a Death Eater at our table, after all." He laughed at the comment.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," replied Monty, pulling his cloak back over his head.

"Wait a moment," requested Harry, having had a new thought. "What's his name?"

"Mr. Hayden Parks," replied Monty.

"Hayden Parks," repeated Harry, putting the name into his memory. "Has he been there all night?"

"I don't know,"replied Monty. "He was discovered nearly ten minutes ago, using the new apparatus that your uncle built."

"Hmm," said Harry. "I'm guessing he's been there for awhile. Let's see, would you be able to petrify him without him knowing you were there?"

"I'm pretty sure," replied Monty, "that he'd figure out that someone was there once..."

"I'm sorry," interrupted Harry. "I meant could you get in behind him without him knowing about it. Then petrify him at the proper time."

"Oh, I see," replied Monty. Yes, Mr. Potter. I believe that could be arranged."

"Great," said Harry, trying to clear the fog in his brain enough to think through the sequence of his plan. "Okay, we'd better keep it simple. I'll try to get Jerry over to the windows on the side of the dining room nearest to the... ah, that bullet shaped tower. When I snap my fingers..."

* * *

"You've got to be kidding, Ron," stated Hermione, already knowing, of course, that he wasn't. Unable to choose between the tipsy cake and the brown bread ice cream, he had decided to order both dishes for dessert. With the exception of Harry, of course, who had managed to have his favorite treat added to the menu by special request and a generous additional gratuity, none of the rest of them had the required capacity left to do more than pick at their own desserts.

"They're both pretty small portions," explained her insatiable friend. His hand wavered over the spoon and the fork, still unsure, apparently, of where to begin.

Harry leaned contentedly back in his chair for a moment before lowering himself carefully back down to all four legs. Looking around, he paused, decisively, and gave the appearance of someone seriously concerned about something.

"Jerry," he asked, "there's something that I've been meaning to ask you. Did you happen to bring anyone with you, tonight? Guards or whatever?" He waited for a reply while occasionally gazing over the crowd and out into the night.

"No, I..." replied Jerry, startled by the question. He looked over his shoulder in the general direction indicated by Harry. He didn't see anything, of course.

"Step over to the window with me," requested Harry. He rose and walked off as if expecting Jerry to have no other intentions than to follow. Jerry, of course, had risen, but his first act was to ensure that his emergency portkey was still in his pocket. Assured of this, he followed behind his host.

When Jerry had joined him, Harry pointed out the window at the tower next door. Pretending to see someone, he asked, "Do you know him?"

Jerry also looked, but didn't see anyone. "Where am I supposed to look?" he asked, not wishing to sound completely stupid.

"Right over there," said Harry, pointing more forcefully. Assuming this had aroused the suspicions of the unseen spy, he advanced his ruse. "It looks like it might be Parks."

"Heidi?" asked Jerry.

"I think it's a man," said Harry, looking back to make sure.

"No," laughed Jerry. "Heidi is his nickname. His real name is Hayden."

"Oh," said Harry. "Is he a friend of yours?" He waved at the unseen man.

"I suppose so," agreed Jerry with that assessment. He continued to try to see something of the hidden man.

"Oh, I'm sorry," apologized Harry, noticing. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, distinctly. Within a second, the man across the chasm came into view and Harry had an invisibility cloak draped over his arm.

Both Jerry and Harry watched as Parks leapt to his feet, dropping his omnioculars in his surprise. When he pulled his wand, Harry waved his hand as if wiping the window and the frightened Death Eater was frozen in his tracks.

"That's Heidi, alright," confirmed Jerry, astonished.

"And you had no idea he'd be there," asked Harry, harshly.

"No," replied Jerry, sensing where this could be going if Harry didn't believe him."

"Well," said Harry, appraisingly, "I don't particularly like people spying on me, in any event. I suppose I'd better take him to the fortress, or maybe just kill him."

"I'd suggest the fortress," said Jerry, trying for the best deal for his acquaintance.

Harry gave the impression of preparing to apparate, but stopped. "Just a second. Does he play darts?"

Jerry was surprised at the question, but answered, "Once in awhile. Harcourt and I've gone up against him a few times. He's not the best, but he isn't bad."

"In that case," returned Harry, nodding to himself as if he had just made a decision, "and since he's a friend of yours, I'll just send him home. Hold this a second." He handed Jerry the invisibility cloak.

"Sure," said a confused Jerry as Harry popped away. Looking back out the window, he saw that Harry was now in the room with Heidi. With a quick wand movement, Heidi's portkey snapped into Harry's hand. Harry then transfigured Heidi's robes into an obnoxious blur of purple and orange stripes with a plethora of pink and green polka dots scattered throughout. Satisfied, Harry placed the portkey in Heidi's hand. Taking the Death Eaters's own wand, he tapped the device and Heidi was gone. A moment later and so was Harry.

"Thanks," said Harry, retrieving the invisibility cloak.

"No problem," replied Jerry, still looking over at the now empty room next door.

"Here's his wand," continued Harry, handing it over to Jerry. "The spell to fix his robes is 'Finite Nauseum', but it has to be done with the original wand."

"Finite Nauseum," repeated Jerry. "Got it." He put Heidi's wand in his pocket next to his own.

Harry folded up the invisibility cloak and looked for a spare pocket. He then decided to ratchet up the confusion he was trying to impart to the general Death Eater population and handed it back to Jerry. "Could you give this back to Vold... I mean 'What's-His-Name'? I've already got more than I can use and I wouldn't want Heidi to get into trouble for losing it."

"Uh, sure," replied Jerry. He stood transfixed at the entire encounter before shaking his head clear and stuffing the cloak into his robes.

"Thanks," said Harry. Leading the way back to the table, he warned, "Now don't think that I'll go this easy on your mates in the future. I just didn't want to spoil the spirit of this evening."

"I understand," replied Jerry. A thought popped into his head so he decided to strike while Harry was in such a good mood. "Say, Harry. That thing you did to summon the cloak from Heidi; that snapping your fingers bit. Was that some sort of an Accio?" He figured he'd be ordered to determine the exact spell used, but a general Accio wouldn't have been able to pass through the glass in either building. He could use a clue.

"Not Accio," replied Harry. "Its... You know, I don't think I should give up that secret. I think I'll let you work it out on your own, if you can."

Jerry shrugged. "Can't blame a bloke for trying." Both he and Harry laughed as they rejoined the others.

* * *

"Parks is back, my Lord,"reported Snape. He really didn't want to have to awaken the Dark Lord with this type of news, but he knew that he'd better.

"Huh?" replied Voldemort. The knocks had roused him, but he'd need another minute or so to wake fully up. At least that would normally be the case.

"Parks is back," repeated Snape. He stepped back to allow the victim; no, make that the field observer take a few steps into the room.

"What the bloody hell?" asked Voldemort, shocked to his feet and into full awareness.

"I was discovered, Master," reported Parks. He pretty much gave himself up for dead when he passed the first mirror, but decided to give a proper accounting of the events and see what happened.

"What could have..." began Voldemort, more or less speechless at what he was seeing. Raising his hand as he slumped back onto his bed, his mouth remained open for ten more seconds before he could manage to order, "Give Snape your memories of the evening. I'll view them in the morning." Waving them all out of the room, he pulled the covers back over himself and went back into a troubled sleep.

* * *

"With a Weasley, you can never tell," observed Honey. "Poppy said that with my figure, she'd guess around four months, but judging by the amount of additional food I've had to consume, I'm going to be lucky if I'm not showing fairly obviously within a couple of more weeks." Although Rufus wasn't as tall as Ron, Honey still had to stretch a bit to reach his hand as she spun around.

"I'm not sure if that has much to do with it," pondered Rufus. "When Sally was expecting, I could tell almost right away, and our daughter was just a little thing."

"Did she shine?" asked Honey, distractedly. She had momentarily had to concentrate on hopping one step on the same foot. This was necessary every sixteen beats in order to sync back up to the music. It wasn't easy dancing with a man with one leg shorter than the other.

"Did she what?" asked Rufus, trying to think what it might be that Honey meant to say.

"Shine," repeated Honey. "I've heard that some women shine when they're expecting."

"I think the term you're searching for is _glow_," suggested Rufus. "Yes. Yes, she did. I'll never forget it. Sally always looked good to me, of course, but when she was expecting our daughter, she... she... well, how do I describe it? She somehow managed to become more and more beautiful until the day Sharon was born." He smiled fondly in remembrance. Affecting a more depressed countenance to cover his true feelings, he added, "After that, of course, she tapered off rather quickly." Both he and Honey laughed.

"Could we try to slow down a bit?" asked Hermione. "Perhaps try to dance at half speed?" She was having a bit of trouble matching her pace to the rather frisky song currently being performed by the jazz ensemble that had been scheduled for the night.

"Of course," replied Jerry, immediately stopping, entirely. "I should have taken your condition into account. Do you wish to return to the table?" He might have been a Death Eater, but he certainly didn't want to cause someone who had been so seriously injured to regress in her recovery.

"No," replied Hermione, thankfully. "I just couldn't maintain that pace." She started the pair off, again, but at the suggested speed. "This is much better." They danced on, but moved towards the edges of the dance floor to avoid some of the more spirited couples.

"I'm glad you're doing so well," said Jerry, unsure of how his words might be received.

"Well, I took a class over the summer a couple of years ago," replied Hermione. "We didn't cover this type of music, exactly, but the Samba is pretty close."

"I meant," clarified Jerry, "that I'm glad you're recovering from your..." What should he call it? Accident? Injury? Near murder?

"Oh, that," replied Hermione, understanding what he meant. "I've got a long way to go, but I'm getting better. I doubt I'll ever be up to full speed again, though."

"I'm sorry," apologized Jerry.

"You didn't have anything to do with it," stated Hermione, automatically before adding, in a more worried tone, "did you?" She looked up into his eyes for an answer. She had come to like Jerry during the evening. If he was involved in her attack, she might have no choice other than to change that opinion.

"Just a little around the edges," admitted Jerry. At Hermione's encouraging glance, he explained, "I provided a little known spell that put a magnification charm on a window. That allowed the Dark Lord to watch safely from a distance."

"Oh," replied Hermione. That wasn't so bad. "Were you there? You know; watching?"

"No," answered Jerry. "Just the top level lieutenants were allowed in that room. Some guards, too, I suppose. No room for research wonks." He smiled at the end.

"That's good," said Hermione. Recognizing the cue that could lead to some of the answers they were seeking, she asked, "So if you aren't one of the top Death Eaters, why did they go out of their way to make sure you had reservations in a place like this?"

"I'm not sure why," began Jerry before catching himself. "I mean, I made the reservations a couple of weeks ago."

Hermione raised her eyebrow above her hairline. "Really, Jerry," she stated, chidingly, "you're a researcher. What is my main characteristic, as far as Voldemort is concerned." She ignored the slight shudder that went through Jerry's body at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

Jerry was shaken to the point of taking a moment to think about the question. A moment was all that was required, however, to remember that Mrs. Potter's intellect was almost legendary. "All right," he admitted. "The Dark Lord gave Snape the order himself. He; Snape, that is, made the reservation and also gave me a few hundred galleons for the meal." He smiled as he added, "I suppose that might cover the tip, tonight." With the eight of them eating, along with the six bottles of wine; so far; the meal had cracked the thousand galleon mark at the very least.

"Don't worry about that," said Hermione. "It's only money. I am intrigued, though, by the fact that the Dark Lord would become so involved in your personal life. Why on earth would he want to do that?"

"It might sound like I'm evading the question," said Jerry, honestly, "but the truth is that I have no idea. All I can say is that I'm quite appreciative. This has been a very enjoyable evening and will probably have Julie looking quite favorably at extending our relationship."

"No doubt," agreed Hermione, deciding to take a break from the conversation by leaning her head against Jerry's chest as they danced. She needed to do some thinking.

"You know," said Julie, looking up the almost two feet to Ron's eyes, "I'm about ready to give the Honey method of dancing with you a shot." She was doing her best to dance with the six foot, four Ron, but the whole flying carpet thing coupled with the inherent height difference wasn't making it any easier. She had seen Ron and Honey dancing earlier, and it seemed be a much better solution than anything they had, as yet, discovered.

"Honey's pretty tolerant of a lot of things," replied Ron, hesitantly, "but I think if I allowed a beautiful girl like you, especially in a dress like that, sit in my lap... well, let's just say I'd have to hide the butcher knives when we got back home." Actually, he thought, if Honey knew the sort of view he was getting, floating nearly directly over Julie, she might have preferred Julie's alternative.

"Damn it, Potter!" whispered Minerva, harshly. "If you step on my toes _one more time_..."


	134. Chapter 134

Chapter 134 - The Unexpected Stripper

December 7th, 1997

An unusual sound caught the attention of Nymphadora Tonks as she slept. Indistinct and definitely not very loud, it nevertheless pulled her out of a relatively enjoyable dream and deposited her back in the bed she shared with her lover, Remus Lupin. At the moment, however, she had it all to herself. Opening her eyes just a bit, she noticed the flickering glow of candlelight against the ceiling on the opposite end of the room, probably just above the desk. Glancing at the clock, she determined that it was fast approaching 2 AM. Deciding to let Remus deal with his apparent insomnia on his own, she relaxed back into her mattress with the intention of returning to Venice before the Gondolas were all taken. From underneath the lighted ceiling, a stifled chuckle was released. Part of Tonks' mind realized that that was the sound that had roused it in the first place, so she raised her head to get a better look.

The desk, being placed as it was, Remus' back was towards her, but she could see that the side of a parchment was being held loosely in his left hand. As she watched, he let it drop to the desktop as he raised his right hand to his face. A sickly sniff was heard shortly before a subdued sound indicated that Remus was probably blowing his nose. The handkerchief that was set on the desk shortly afterwards confirmed the guess.

Curiously, Tonks slipped out from under the covers and walked over to her man. He acknowledged her presence as she reached his side, but said nothing. Looking down, Tonks could see that the parchment she had seen was only one of many. At about two and a half feet long, it was about average for the stack, as far as its length. At the top, the title 'The Marauders go Fishing' could be seen.

"What'cha doin'?" she asked, using a clever auror technique to find out what someone was doing.

"I'm, ah..." began Remus, sniffing again. "I'm reading some stories that Worm, I mean Pettigrew wrote. He wants me to... put them in a sort of book." He took a deep breath as if saying even this much was an effort.

"What for?" asked Tonks. She could tell that Remus was struggling with this.

"For _Harry!_" replied Remus, unintentionally emphasizing the name of his best friend's son. He turned a bit as he said this, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the tears streaking down his face.

"The Marauders," said Tonks, thinking of a way to turn the discussion just a bit away from Pettigrew while still allowing her to help Remus. "That was what the four of you called yourselves in school, wasn't it?"

"Yes," replied Remus. It was getting easier to talk about it the more he practiced. "We fancied ourselves as a sort of gang of rogues." He smiled for a moment in thought.

"And these are stories of some of the mischief you all got yourselves into," surmised Tonks, putting her arm around his neck as she leaned over to pick up the top scroll. "So these are all fun stories, then?" Remus nodded.

"Well, that explains the laughing," said Tonks, "but why do I get the feeling that you'd have rather not ever seen them?"

"Because we were brothers!" shouted Remus, getting to his feet, agitatedly. "We were all best mates for years. How could he... how... James and... and Lily. How?" He buried his head in his hands and once again let loose the tears he had been unsuccessfully attempting to suppress all night.

Tonks, who was surprised, and yet not, at the emotional outburst, gently hugged Remus until he calmed himself enough to return to bed. "Come along, now," she said comfortingly, "we need to be rested up for the picnic, today." With a nod, Remus returned her hug and followed her back to their bed. The scrolls could wait for another time.

* * *

Not much later at the Dark Lord's headquarters.

"So it wasn't until this point here, when both Potter and Knight were at the window, that you noticed any attention coming your way?" asked Snape. It was well past bed time; for Snape, at least, but knowing that his master would want some sort of a detailed report and analysis upon waking, he had begun the investigation the moment Knight had returned. Initially taking time for only a quick review of the most important memories, in Knight's opinion, he had been finishing up this phase of the study with some more detailed personal interviews. In order to maintain a reasonable level of accuracy, he had found it necessary to write the important points and observations from both men onto a full scroll of parchment; Knight on the left and Parks on the right, in order to keep the overlapping stories straight. As best as he could manage, he kept the timeline uniform between them.

"No, sir," replied Parks. "I never saw or felt any indications that my presence had been detected." His wand had been returned to him, along with the proper counterspell necessary to restore his robes. The invisibility cloak had also, miraculously, been recovered. This meant, of course, that his prospects for a painful death no longer seemed inevitable, but he was doing his best to be professional and helpful with his answers, just to be on the safe side.

"Hmm," said Snape, adding a note. Turning to Knight, he said, "Now, from what I saw from your memory, I don't believe that Potter was being quite truthful when he mentioned that he had been concerned about Parks for 'quite some time.' I think it's more likely that he had come to discover his presence fairly recently. Perhaps he just wanted to give the impression that he was more aware that he really was."

"That's quite possible, sir," agreed Knight. "The speed with which he got rid of Heidi would indicate..."

"Yes, I know," interrupted Snape surlily. "I'm more interested in exactly how he learned he was being observed. As I believe you mentioned, he left only the once; to use the restroom. Add the part of your memory surrounding that time to the list to be rechecked when we've finished here. See if there were times when he had a conversation outside of your hearing; any stops with other diners or perhaps a whispered conversation between himself and the mudblood. That sort of thing."

"Yes, sir," replied Jerry, adding to his notes.

"Moving on to the encounter, itself," continued Snape. "From my review of that section, I saw no proper spells used that could have either summoned the cloak or petrified Parks. We'll have to assume that he managed both, for the present, but if he has such capabilities, why did he need to transfigure Parks' robes in person?"

"Harry might have revealed the solution to that, himself," answered Jerry. "When he handed me Heidi's wand, he..."

"Right," interrupted Snape, again. "Well, that part was true enough, I suppose. Mr. Parks couldn't even remove his robes until you returned with his wand. Although of little use, check into possible spells to achieve that, as well."

"Yes, sir," replied Jerry, yet again.

"That's all for now," said Snape, tossing down his quill and rubbing his eyes. "Besides the areas already stated for specific emphasis, both of you should also re-review the entire evening from your arrivals until your departures. See if anything comes up."

"Yes, sir," said Heidi and Jerry in synchronization. Although not employed for his reasoning abilities, Heidi was one of an ever increasing number of Death Eaters, already including Jerry, who had noticed that any outcome from an interaction with Potter; even those that didn't end up particularly well, were seldom punished, anymore. It would seem that the upper ranks no longer expected much success in that area.

* * *

Harry and the Gang around Lunchtime

"You _do_ know the current market value of an invisibility cloak, don't you?" It was a question not born out of any need for funds, but more of an exasperated attempt to fathom why such a prize was returned to the ranks of their sworn enemy. They were having this meeting at Muck, of course. This served two purposes. First; it was about as secure as Hogwarts since there were eight dragons, not counting Harry, milling around. Second; it prevented said dragons from dropping by to see why Harry and Hermione missed their weekly brunch.

"Yes, Rufus," replied Harry, in a tone reminiscent of a not quite contrite son admitting his stupidity to his more experienced father. "I mean no, actually. It doesn't matter. At the time, I wanted to use that cloak to send a message. Several messages, in fact." He took another bite of his mutton while everyone else waited for him to continue.

When his explanation didn't seem to be coming up anytime soon, Hermione prompted, "I'm sure it's made the rounds on the grapevine, or soon will. What sort of a response did you expect?" She was still fairly well sated from the previous evening, but occupied herself stirring a spoonful of honey into her second cup of chamomile tea, nevertheless.

"I'm thinking; I'm thinking," replied Harry. Like so many fantastic ideas conceived in the illumination provided by a few glasses of wine, the murkiness had returned with the cold dawn of morning.

"Well," said Ron, "I think that some good might come of it. For instance, it demonstrated that we have plenty of resources to use against them. It's just one item, so it won't have a major effect by itself, but these sorts of things help lower their anticipation for an easy victory, which ultimately will begin to lower their morale." His morale, of course, needed no augmentation. When you dine with dragons, the phrase 'all you can eat' takes on an entirely different meaning.

"That's pretty thin," said Harry, "but I'll take it."

"Whether it was worth the cost or not, I'll tell you one thing that won't go unnoticed," said Tonks. "Because Harry said he was giving it back so that other bloke wouldn't get into trouble, it showed that you don't have any grudges against the average Death Eaters. Not the sane ones, at least. The same is true of having Knight and Joplin join you for dinner. There haven't been any more defections since the Dibens; probably due to the consequences, but if Voldemort ever decides to start killing his own men, again, they'd at least have to consider taking their chances with you, instead." She held out her plate as Winky slipped a few more of her cinnamon crisps onto it.

"Don't you think you've had enough of those?" asked Remus, hypocritically. He hadn't exactly been a model of restraint, this afternoon. Of course, with his fitful night's sleep, he needed the excessive amount of sugar in the savory treats for its energy, however transient.

"One of the many advantages of being an metamorphagus," explained Tonks, pausing for a moment to select her treat, "is that you don't have to worry about maintaining your figure." She bit into a corner of her latest temptation.

"You'll still gain the weight, won't you?" asked Honey. She wasn't particularly knowledgeable about most of the subjects and strategies discussed that morning, but she did know about maintaining her appearance.

"It actually works a bit backwards with me," answered Tonks. "It's true that my overall weight doesn't change when I transform, but I just transfer any extra poundage to my bust." She looked meaningfully up at Lupin as she added, "I haven't heard any complaints."

"I guess that I _haven't_ been imagining it," mumbled Harry, thoughtfully. Of course, if he had been truly thoughtful, he wouldn't have mentioned it at all; at least not in front of Hermione.

"What was that, Potter?" asked Hermione, foolishly giving Harry a brief chance to save himself.

"The lake," spurted out Harry, naming the first thing he could see besides Tonks' boobs. Hermione, along with Honey, Ron and Sorcha, turned briefly towards the lake before returning their attention to Harry.

"What about it?" asked Hermione.

"It's..." began Harry, looking closely at the lake, himself, in hopes of finding something out of the ordinary. "It's a bit choppy, today." Indeed, the stiff December breeze had produced some fine-grained wavelets across the entire surface of the lake.

Hermione stared at him for a few more seconds before turning towards the rest of the group and saying, "Anyway, as far as the original point of the dinner, we came up empty. Besides currently being the face of the Death Eaters, we have no idea why Jerry's suddenly so important to Voldemort."

Ron laughed, briefly.

"What?" asked Harry, although everyone else was thinking it.

"I was just thinking," answered Ron. "We're trying to figure out, as Hermione just put it, why Jerry's suddenly so important. I had a vision of Voldemort and a few of his men trying to figure out the same thing."

Hermione thought a moment before clarifying, "You mean they might be wondering why Harry's turned up twice when Jerry was out and about?"

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "Apparently, they half expected it last night. Why else would they have sent that other bloke to observe his date?" They all considered this for a few seconds.

"I don't know," sighed Rufus, momentarily bowing his head in exasperation. Quickly resuming his visual tracking of the female Black currently approaching as she skimmed across the lake, he said, "Maybe it's just that simple." He left any further thoughts behind as he went to greet Ceana as she came in for a landing. Harry and Ron passed him on either side to perform their assigned duties.

"Who's next?" asked the light skinned Black as she touched down. She stood still as Ron floated up to assist Minerva down from the recently conjured double saddle. Greta, who had been riding along beside her, slid happily down Ceana's side into the waiting arms of Harry. Rufus had attempted this action once. Once had been enough.

"My turn," called out Osgar, trotting over.

"Who's going with me?" asked Greta, looking over the available humans.

Encouraged by the lack of an immediate response, Honey called out, "I'd like to." Standing up, she hesitated before requesting, "No loops or sudden turns, please. I'm expecting, after all."

"Well, what's the point, then?" asked Osgar, disappointedly.

"That's what I was thinking," added Greta. She frowned at Honey.

"I don't think it will kill you," replied Honey, to Greta. Then, with a glance at Oscar, she added, "Either of you. I missed out on the rides with Harry and just wanted a simple dragon ride, but if that's too much to ask..." She turned her back on Greta, but waited patiently with a grin on her face.

"Oh, all right, Miss Honey," caved Greta, giving her a hug. Taking charge, she instructed, "Now, if you've never done it before, you might be scared. Just hold my hand and we'll be fine."

"I will," replied an excited Honey. She and Greta then climbed up behind Ron. Harry had already transferred the saddle, so Osgar was all set to go.

"I'm confused," admitted Honey, examining the excessive number of straps on her side in comparison to Greta's.

"You can't tighten your seat belt as tight as Greta," explained Harry, "so I added some over-the-shoulder belts to make sure you stay in place." Ron returned to his wife's side and assisted in securing her to the saddle. With a scream and a laugh, they were soon off on their ride.

"So," began Rufus, walking back to the picnic tables, "since it's apparent that we don't have enough information to learn anything important from last night, does anyone have anything else to bring up?" He reclaimed his seat next to Minerva, who was making up for lost time with the mutton.

"Funny you should ask," replied Harry. "My uncle has a problem with the pendulum that might need your help to resolve." He paused a few seconds while trying to remember the details. "Something about vibrations?" He looked to Hermione for help.

"Apparently," took up Hermione, "the one he's made wobbles. He's not sure if that's a problem, in and of itself, since he doesn't know if the real one wouldn't do the same under the same circumstances. In order to proceed, he's going to have to have the original for awhile so that he can do a few tests."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," stated Rufus, "but isn't the pendulum a fairly important part of the clock?"

"Of course," replied Hermione. "Normally, we'd remove the pendulum and then cause the clock to work without it with a bit of magic. That would involve confunding anyone who came into regular contact with it into believing it was still there. In the case of the Westminster clock, however, that would be quite a few people. There would be the maintenance department, of course; security guards, both in person and with video cameras; political officials giving tours; that sort of thing."

"That's true enough," agreed Rufus. "You also couldn't just cast a localized memory charm to prevent anyone from remembering it. There'd be mental conflicts popping up all the time since that's one of the reasons they'd be in the tower in the first place."

"Exactly," said Harry. "As it turns out, my uncle has the solution already figured out. He's built some sort of a machine to replace the movement of the pendulum. All that would have to be done is to remove the pendulum and slip this machine into place and plug it in. He claims it will keep perfect time as long as the power doesn't go off."

"Wouldn't we have the same problem, then?" asked Ron. "I mean, the pendulum would still be gone, wouldn't it?"

"As it turns out," replied Hermione, "Uncle Vernon knows a bit of the recent history of the clockworks. A decade or so ago, the beams under the main mechanism gave way. Naturally, it was repaired, but a viable story would be that it might not have been strengthened enough to last. Uncle Vernon suggested that the substructure inside the catwalk area underneath the pendulum should also be reinforced. That would require the removal of the pendulum for at least a few days."

Rufus thought for a moment before commenting, "No magic required and the muggles would do most of the work for us."

"Well," amended Hermione, "almost no magic. All we'd need to do, and by we, I mean you, is to confund Clive's boss to tell him to do it. We'd have to make sure he has the name and address of the machine shop where Uncle Vernon's been working, but once the work order came down, it would be up to them to remove and store the pendulum. After that, we could substitute any sort of reasonable copy and keep it for several days, if necessary."

"He's ready to go, you said?" asked Rufus, making a quick note to himself. "Your uncle, that is."

"That's what he said," replied Harry. "I'll give the name of the shop to Minerva sometime today."

"I'm stopping by after we leave here, anyway," replied Rufus. "Minerva and I need to hear a few tunes before deciding if Greyback will be allowed to play a set or two at the Yule Ball."

"What was that?" asked Remus. He had been momentarily distracted as he tried to determine whether or not Tonks had already compensated for her excessive desert.

"Didn't we mention that?" asked Hermione. "Harry has been acting as Fenrir's agent and is trying to arrange for him to play his trumpet at the Christmas dance."

Remus and Tonks, hearing this for the first time, looked at each other in stunned silence.

"Rufus had an idea about bringing him in in chains, with auror guards," explained Harry.

"Well," said Tonks, still shocked, "at least that would offer some protection."

"It isn't for protection," elaborated Harry. "It would be to play up his raving murderer reputation. Add a little excitement and all. The kids will love it."

"We'll work out all the details after we hear him play," added Rufus, figuratively brushing off that topic in anticipation of starting the next. "Now, if there isn't anything else, I'd like to have at least one go riding alongside my granddaughter." Nudging Minerva, he asked, "Care to join us?"

"I'd love to," replied Minerva, setting down her bowl of chips.

"Hold on there, Romeo," said Caoimhe. "I can't speak for the rest, but one adult with one child was about my limit." She glanced over at Ceana for comment.

"I _might_ be able to handle a couple," she supposed, "if it were Harry and Hermione. Minerva wouldn't be a problem, of course, but Rufus seems to be a bit more... substantial, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I know what you mean, alright," agreed Minerva, giving Rufus an appraising look. "Sometimes when we're... well, I know what you mean."

"I'll tell you what," offered Harry. "I'll take the three of them for a ride. I was able to get in the air with Hagrid, so with a running start, I shouldn't have too much of a problem."

"You're all so very kind," said Rufus, sporting a fake smile.

* * *

Tom and the Gang, also around Lunchtime

Lord Voldemort sat comfortably in his chair, eating a relatively light meal. While holding his fork, currently impaling a bit of ham, in his right hand, his left steadied a scroll sufficiently for him to read Snape's report. This was more of a synopsis, really, than a complete account of Knight's date, but it was also the version that only the very top lieutenants could view. Due to the presence of this scroll, as well as the relatively sensitive subject of the current conversation, the area was magically isolated from the rest of the dining hall with the same Muffliato spell used so often by the Dark Lord's main opposition. As it turned out, Voldemort was more than a little pleased with the results of the encounter with Potter and Scrimgeour. While the discovery, capture and eventual release of one of his better spies had seemed to be less than a stellar moment in the history of the Death Eaters, it revealed some interesting clues regarding the abilities of his main rival. Also, the totally unexpected luck of having Knight's own girlfriend unwittingly doing his bidding by actually wishing to write flattering stories of life as a Death Eater almost made him cry out in triumph. As that might have been a bit too obvious to Knight, who he wished to keep in the dark on how he was being manipulated, he restrained his response to a slight smile.

"An interesting evening, it seems," he said, finally. Jerry Knight, along with Hayden "Heidi" Parks, stood silently to the side as their master handed the scroll to Snape, who rolled it up and stuck it in his pocket. "For both of you." His eyes momentarily flared up in intensity as he scanned the room. This could only be interpreted as bad news by the duo, but was, in fact, merely the visual clue that Lord Voldemort was magically altering his eyesight to allow anything, or anyone, who might be nearby and invisible to come into view. It hadn't become particularly obvious to those of his men who only chanced upon their master once or twice a day, but to his senior lieutenants, as well as his personal guards, the activity had seemed more like a budding obsession.

"Yes, Master," replied Jerry, determining that he should respond to the comment. "Thank you, Master, for your help in arranging the dinner."

"Not a problem," returned Voldemort. "So tell me; did you like the restaurant?"

"Yes, Master," answered Jerry.

"How was the food?" asked the Dark Lord, next.

"Delicious," replied Jerry.

"The service was top notch, as well?" asked his boss.

"Very much so," agreed Jerry.

"As I would expect," affirmed Voldemort, nodding. Taking a second to face Knight fully, he asked, "And what about your dinner companions?"

"My dinner...?" asked Jerry, incompletely.

"Your dinner companions," repeated Voldemort, a bit annoyed at having to do so. "The people you ate with last night. What did you think of them?"

Jerry was taken aback, for just a moment, at least, before formulating a reply. He had discussed what was said or implied with Snape in some detail, but never had he been asked what he thought of the dinner party. "Well," he began, unsure of how it would be received, but deciding to stick with the truth, "I liked them." At Voldemort's gesture indicating he should go on, Jerry said, "Except for once or twice when an awkward topic came up, the discussions were interesting and friendly." He paused a moment as he searched his memory for a few examples before continuing. "We traded a few stories, such as when Harry's pet snake was introduced to his classmates and how Dinky's cooking has improved the morale, not to mention the waistlines of most of the Death Eaters."

"You mentioned Dinky?" snapped Voldemort, upset at the naming of his slave.

"Yes, Master," answered Knight, returning to a more guarded state. "I mean, he; Harry, that is, brought it up. He already knew about her and asked how she was working out."

Voldemort pondered on this for a few moments. Potter not only knew of his ownership of Dinky, which might not be that hard to explain given that he acquired her specifically because she was the sister of one of his elves and the mother of another, but had enough interest to remember her name and, presumably, her current main job. Or did he?

"Did he bring her up by name," asked the Dark Lord, "or did you supply that information to a more broad comment?"

"He already knew her name, Master," replied Knight. "He mentioned that his elf had made a couple of meals of similar quality to the ones at the restaurant and asked, just in passing, I think, whether her sister, Dinky, had been doing the same for us. I told him..."

"I see," stated Voldemort, cutting off the more extensive explanation. Deciding that he had enough information to move on, he gave a few instructions.

"Overall," he began, "I believe I was right when I suspected that Potter has more than a passing interest in you. Why that would be is still unclear." Looking directly at Knight, he said, "Give this some thought and pass along any possible motives that might occur to you to Severus."

"Yes, Master," replied Knight.

"In case you were wondering," added Voldemort, "my suspicion that Potter might show up was the reason that Parks was sent to observe. For the time being, that will not be repeated. I believe that Mr. Parks is still with us due only to the chance good humor of Potter. His first two inclinations were to either capture or kill him. Perhaps the intervention of the initial drinks, or maybe the general mood of the evening caused him to release him, instead. In either case, it was a poor decision that I don't expect to be repeated." Facing Heidi directly, he said, "That will be all, Parks."

Parks, relieved at having been asked no embarrassing questions, left immediately. Knight, realizing that he had not been included in the dismissal, remained.

"Knight," began Voldemort, "as I mentioned, I don't know why Potter has taken such an interest in you, but it might not be such a bad thing. Anything you knew of importance was probably discovered during your first meeting, at least in general. That means that only very current information would be available should he decide to interrogate you, again. Move a pensieve into your quarters. Store any new memories that might be helpful to Potter in it whenever you leave headquarters."

"Yes, Master," replied Knight.

"Also, I am intrigued by this series of articles that your young lady seems to wish to write," continued the Dark Lord. "In the past, the public has been presented only one view of my followers. Your first interview was well received and has already yielded a few inquiries from interested parties. Don't reveal anything that might be particularly helpful to Potter or the Ministry, but I give my permission to continue, in general."

"Yes, Master," repeated Knight. "I'm sure she'll be pleased."

"I'm sure she will," agreed Voldemort, "as will you. It never hurts to have a valid reason to regularly visit your girlfriend, does it?"

"No, Lord," answered Knight, smiling.

"As it will be of some benefit to me and my purposes," added Voldemort, "you may use funds from petty cash to cover some of your expenses." Looking up, sharply, he added in a more severe voice, "Just try to avoid any more three-hundred galleon tips in the future."

"Yes... I mean I'm sorry, Master," stammered out Knight, hurriedly. "It just seemed proper to cover the tip since..."

"I understand the circumstances, Knight," interrupted Voldemort. "You would have seemed quite unappreciative of your host's generosity had you not made the offer. I don't want either Potter or Miss..."

"Joplin, Master," offered Knight.

"That's right," agreed Voldemort, "Miss Joplin. I wouldn't want either of them to think you were miserly. Just..." He moved his hands in a tamping down gesture. A moment later, he elaborated on an earlier subject.

"Speaking of Potter," he added, "if he should unexpectedly appear, again, while you are on a date or just out and about, be friendly and talkative. Tell him a few unimportant details or developments of your own, if you must, to engage him in a conversation, but try to find out what you can of his current activities and report back anything of interest to Snape."

"Of course, Master," responded Knight, thoughtfully.

After a moment, Voldemort said, "That's all," letting Knight know he was dismissed.

Leaving the protected alcove, Knight went over to the serving tables to gather a bit of breakfast for himself. That last bit with his boss had been sufficiently clear for him to realize that he would be expected to spy on Harry Potter. No, not spy; that wasn't the right word. He, along with Harry and everyone else, had always been quite open with his status as a Death Eater. Perhaps double agent? A completely out in the open with everyone double agent? Getting closer. He picked up the tongs and set two; no, make that three waffles onto his plate. They were already buttered so he only had to add the syrup from the warmed pitcher. As he did this, the proper word finally came to mind; liaison. He would be the link, a mutual one, between the two sides. The Dark Lord had said as much quite explicitly. Potter, no doubt, understood this as well. At least _Mrs. Potter _understood. You could never tell with Harry.

* * *

Later that afternoon

"I'm not asleep." Rufus shifted in his half of the conjured Chesterfield in an annoyed fashion to move his ribs a bit further out of range of his girlfriend. He did not, however, rouse himself to the point of opening his eyes.

"I'm sorry about the misunderstanding," intoned Minerva. "The snoring confused me." She also adjusted her position to leave a bit more space between the two of them. The intention in her case, of course, was to show her opinion of his assertion.

After a minute to resume his more relaxed state, and to also allow the current song, _Caravan_, to finish, Rufus said, "I really wasn't sleeping. I was letting my mind wander."

"You probably shouldn't do that very often," suggested Minerva. "You never know when it might not come back."

"Too true," agreed Rufus, smiling contentedly. "I was just thinking back to when I was young."

"What a memory," muttered an eavesdropping Greyback as he chose the next song for his 'audition'. It would be the seventh.

"After Sally and I had been dating for a few months," continued Rufus, bringing up the rare, although not unknown topic of life with his late wife, "we started hitting some of the hot nightclubs in Portsmouth, Southampton, London and, when we felt adventurous, Brighton. Of course, when we were young, this music was much more popular."

"I remember it quite well," replied Minerva. "My father and I used to listen to it on the WWN. We'd dance and laugh and generally had a very good time." She paused for a few seconds in order to let the next, somewhat slower tune begin. It was _My Old Flame _and the more relaxed melody caused her to forget their minor tiff as she snuggled back to his side. His arm automatically slipped around her shoulder.

"It seems like a million years ago, now," remarked Rufus, "but also just like yesterday. That's your doing, of course. Being in love, again, and all that. It makes me remember the last time I felt like this." He closed his eyes, again, and resumed his reverie.

Normally, Minerva would have made some sort of reply, but she didn't want to take the chance. Rufus had obviously been working up his courage for the past week or so to ask The Question. The moment had never been just right, though. Perhaps now he'd finally be in the proper mood to cast the spell. She closed her eyes, with an ironic smile on her face as she considered that the perfect moment might have finally manifested itself a mile underground in what was essentially a prison, listening to a murderous ex-werewolf playing karaoke trumpet music.

"Minerva," began Rufus, "Do you ..."

"Yes!" exclaimed Minerva, interrupting him abruptly. Turning to give her fiancé a kiss, she was brought back to reality by the confused look on his face. "I meant, ah, yes, Rufus. What were you going to ask?"

"Not what you were expecting, I bet," replied Greyback, blowing out his spit during a few measures of rest.

Rufus also knew what she thought he was going to say, but he had his own timetable. "I was going to ask," he said, deciding on a viable lie, "if you think that this sort of music would work at the Yule Ball."

"Well," said Minerva, giving the subject some thought, "_I_ like it. I'm not sure if teenagers would give it enough of a listen to appreciate it, though."

"They do like more, ah, suggestive music," agreed Rufus. "Maybe a few tunes for the faculty, before everything gets going."

"That might work out," agreed Minerva.

It didn't work for Greyback, however. They wanted suggestive? He'd give then suggestive. Stopping the current song, he quickly flipped through the stack and pulled out _The St. Louis Blues_.

"Try this one on for size," he said as he snapped his wand against the recording. Grabbing his plunger mute, he squeezed out the opening glissando with enough sauce to cook a goose.

It took only a few notes for the seasoned warrior sitting next to Minerva to recognize the tune. He had heard it enough, after all, while working undercover in the more plebeian entertainment districts of London. He decided that he'd keep that particular history of the song to himself.

As it turned out, Minerva was also familiar with the alternative uses of the tune. Feeling comfortably frisky, she spun herself to her feet, hips first. As Rufus made the beginnings of an effort to rise as well, she sashayed over and pushed him back into his chair. She then reached up and grabbed the brim of her hat with both hands. Turning it first to the left, and then to the right, she slowly raised it off of her head and let it drop to the floor at Rufus' feet.

Rufus, getting the picture, leaned back into his seat with a huge grin. Having your woman dance for you is one of the forgotten pleasures of a bygone time and he intended to enjoy every moment of it. He knew, after all, how this particular song ended, although he assumed that the finale would be delayed until they had returned to her bedroom. Despite the fact that she was now unbuttoning her cloak, he doubted that Greyback, or any of the other Death Eaters within eyesight, for that matter, would see so much as an ankle. Then again, if she got into the right mood, who knows? As Minerva's blouse came into view, he gave his personal orchestra a thumbs up and sat back to pay attention to the show.

* * *

Author's Note:

I thought I might mention my thought on why it's taking so long to do a chapter, these days. When I started writing almost seven years ago, I was one of many electricians building industrial control panels. I only had to worry about what I was doing and could give the story considerable thought throughout the day and then write it down at night. Now, I run the whole department and have much more on my mind. I can't really afford the luxury of thinking of other things while I'm working. I'm also seven years older. Entering the third year of seven day workweeks isn't helping, either. Anyway, I won't give up on the story, but thought you might like to know why the output is slowing down.

Dad


	135. Chapter 135

Chapter 135 - Harry's Greatest Fear

December 7th, 1997

"What was that all about," asked Hermione as Harry returned to his place next to her. They had just sat down to the evening meal when Professor Coldiron had requested a quick word. That had been five minutes earlier.

"Nothing, really," replied Harry, beginning to fill his plate. There were baked potatoes in abundance; one of his favorite staples, so he unapologetically took two, to start. "He wanted some help with the next demonstration and asked for my assistance." He paused a moment before asking, "Could you pass the rolls, please, Honey?"

Honey quickly complied before asking, "What sort of help, Harry?"

"I can't say," replied Harry. The roast beef had foolishly been placed within reach of Ron, so Harry quickly sliced off a slab before it disappeared entirely.

"He didn't tell you what he had planned?" asked Hermione.

"Of course he did," answered Harry. "He just asked that I not tell any of the students. Didn't want to give some of you an unfair advantage and all." He spread some butter on his rolls so it could start soaking in while he consumed the rest of the meal.

"An unfair advantage?" asked Hermione. "He's been following the syllabus fairly consistently, so far. Our next unit is supposed to be on attacks against the nervous system, so I imagine that your help will have something to do with that."

"You're very clever," responded Harry, putting a bit of salt on his corn. He smiled at her, but didn't elaborate.

"Well?" asked Ron, taking the unprecedented step of allowing his mouth to remain completely empty for several seconds.

"Well, what?" replied Harry.

"Aren't you going to tell us what he asked you to do?" asked Ron. He then immediately placated his momentarily abandoned, and somewhat affronted mouth by inserting a fairly large piece of pumpkin pie.

"I already told you," replied Harry. "He asked me not to tell." He then proceeded to finish filling his baked potatoes with sour cream.

"We know that," countered Hermione in order to prevent her red-headed friend from spewing half-chewed bits of pumpkin all over the table, "but since you've already admitted that it has something to do with attacks on the nervous system, you might as well..."

"I never said that," rebuffed Harry. "I just said you're very clever."

"Arghh!" grunted Hermione. "Fine! Don't tell us."

"I don't intend to," replied Harry. Picking out a chunk of pork from his baked beans, he proceeded to enjoy his meal.

* * *

Monday, December 8th, 1997

Camille and Michel tiredly made their way over to the Dark Lord's breakfast nook. This morning had been the third in a row that saw them rise before the sun. With any luck, it would be the last time until their part of the master plan was implemented.

"Eet went jus like yestairday," reported Michel, sitting down with a thump. Grabbing a muffin from the stack, he elaborated, "Ze sheep, with a leetle help from us, of courze, drank ze potions as if zey vere dying of zirst."

"No one checked on the sheep?" asked Voldemort, finishing up his second, and ultimately penultimate plate of blueberry waffles.

"No," replied Camille, coming out of his sleep deprived stupor long enough to realize that he had forgotten to fill up a plate. Getting up, he added, "Zomwan did entair ze lower level on ze far end of ze boat." He had moved two steps away and decided to finish his report upon his return.

"Get back here," snapped Voldemort. He wasn't used to having people wander off during reports and didn't plan to become so.

Camille sighed and lowered his head. After taking a short, calming breath, turned, along with his brother who had also risen, and returned to their employer's table.

"Finish your report," ordered Voldemort, impatiently.

"It eez finished," retorted Camille. "No wan came downstairs exzept zomwan who needed to uze ze bathroom. Zey never came near ze sheep."

"Very well," replied the Dark Lord. "I may order another test or two before we set the entire plan in motion, just to make sure nothing changes, but for now you may cease the daily tests. One week of the preparatory potion is required for full effect from the reactant; is that correct?"

"Oui," answered Michel. "As az already been said, stooping ze fairst potion after ze virst veek would cause ze dragons to be vairy sick, or possibly dead."

"I remember," replied Voldemort, in irritation. "I'm counting on that as a back-up. If we have to move before we can administer the second potion, the dragons would still be out of the picture." He accepted his final plate of waffles and a fresh supply of warm syrup before finishing with, "You may go." With a grudging nod, the brothers made their way towards the serving tables.

"I don't believe our French comrades understand just how important their part is," noted Snape as he pushed his plate towards the center of the table. He had publicly limited himself to just the two cinnamon rolls in an effort to show that his willpower was up to scratch. It wasn't much of a secret, however, that he had a personal stash in his rooms that were maintained by Dinky.

"They don't need to know," countered Voldemort. "I understand, though. The last thing we'd need on any offensive is to have those bloody nightmares show up, again." He took and finished another bite before adding, "Speaking of giving ourselves the best possible advantage, how are things working out on your assignment, Airins?"

"Quite well, Master," replied Jake Airins. "The final pieces of the puzzle, as far as the minor players are concerned, are falling into place. In the winter months, Ogle has a weekly card game. The location rotates through his friends, but it is always Friday night at seven o'clock. Once we have the sequence confirmed, he should be easy. Hinkerton has an affliction that requires a potion twice a day followed by an hour's rest. That limits him to his office or home during those treatments. The others have already been figured out so we'll be ready to go with just a couple more weeks of observations to tighten up the specifics."

"Excellent," replied Voldemort. "I don't plan to start anything until Spring. Find out when the card games usually finish for the year as well as if Hinkerton's illness is chronic. I don't want to overshoot either of them by waiting too long."

"Yes, Master," replied Airins, making a note.

"Rookwood," said Voldemort, also clearly finished with his breakfast.

"Master," replied Augustus Rookwood.

"I think that enough time has passed for my initial gifts to the trolls and giants to have been consumed," began the Dark Lord. "Travel to their various domains and make arrangements for both races to send some of their warriors, when I request."

Rookwood hesitated for a few moments before replying, "Of course, Master. I'll leave at once." The gifts and favors that had been bestowed upon the half-human beasts had, indeed, probably been exhausted by now. He knew, though, that the memories of what had happened to the previous members of their clans had probably not been erased from memory. Still, an order was an order. Without further inquiries, he rose and returned to his rooms to make plans.

"Severus," said Voldemort.

Snape, having noticed that he hadn't been given any specific assignment for a few weeks, perked up at his name. "Yes, my Lord," he replied.

"I have a very special and important task that I wish to remain secret," continued the Dark Lord. Snape swelled with pride. "Have Knight meet me in my rooms in ten minutes."

Snape said nothing for a long enough time for Voldemort to take in the breath to repeat himself. That wouldn't be good, so Snape sputter out, "At once, Master." Quickly, and almost to the point of being rude, he rose from his place and walked down four tables to deliver his message.

* * *

Much later that evening

"Mother of God!"

_Actual words_, thought Hermione, impressed. Jarrod Swetterwood, the final werewolf left in Great Britain, had just begun his cure. A fairly young and strapping man, he had remained conscious long enough for the exclamation before collapsing like his predecessors. Hermione held onto Harry's arms as the male healer's assistant did the same for Swetterwood. Harry, of course, didn't require the same amount of support since he was using perhaps a bit more than the usual amount of his life force to hurry this final cure along, but who could blame him? Within a minute, it was finished.

"Finite," said Harry, ending both transfusion spells, albeit not in the prescribed fashion. With a quick sweep and a nod from Madam Pomfrey, he walked slowly over to his chair as the attendants dragged Swetterwood to his cot.

"I'll bet you're happy _that's_ over with," commented Hermione as she took her seat next to her husband. She took his right hand in both of hers as he leaned back to recuperate.

"You have no idea," replied Harry, smiling. With the curing of this final werewolf; the actual _curing_, he had

felt a wave of relief fall upon him as he sensed that the amount of his life used in the past few weeks to eliminate lycanthropy in Great Britain wasn't so terribly excessive after all. Well, perhaps _sensed _was too strong a word. He really didn't know for certain if he hadn't used up a hundred years, but he felt in his heart that he'd be able to enjoy a reasonably long life despite the effort. Ninety-odd people would have a better life because of it, in any event.

"Let's celebrate," blurted out Hermione, spontaneously. She hadn't given any time at all to analyzing the suggestion before giving it voice, but it seemed like an appropriate thing to do.

"Celebrate?" asked Harry, surprised. "You mean go out to dinner or something?"

"Perhaps," agreed Hermione, thinking. "We just did that, though. Maybe something different."

"I'm not sure just what you have in mind," said Harry, "but it's not exactly early and we _do_ have classes tomorrow."

Hermione gave him a moderate eye roll before explaining, "I didn't mean tonight. It is after ten, after all. Perhaps celebrate wasn't exactly the right word. I was thinking more of doing something to commemorate the achievement. It could be anything."

"Hmm," hummed Harry. "_Anything_ covers a lot of ground."

"Well," began Hermione, tentatively, "if it could, as we've noted, be _anything_, there is something that's come to mind that I've been meaning to bring up." She repositioned herself so that she was sitting more at Harry's height. "It doesn't really have anything to do with werewolves, though."

"What?" asked Harry, inquiringly.

"Greta's room," replied Hermione. "Rufus is getting ready to pop the question and we'll need to have Greta's room set up in time for their honeymoon."

"We'd planned on taking her with us to Sicily," countered Harry, "but the point is taken. She'll need someplace to stay for at least a night or two. I haven't given it a whole lot of thought, but I was thinking of having Dinky and Slinky take care of the remodeling. Perhaps we could pick out the furniture and toys." He shrugged.

Hermione considered the unexpected conversation and its closing suggestion and also shrugged in agreement. "Not exactly dinner or a party," she noted, "but it'll be fun and, well, it will be good practice for the next time."

"What next time?" asked Harry, confusedly.

"The next time we'd need to set up a room for a child," explained Hermione. At Harry's continuing blank stare, she added, "Sooner or later, we'll start to have our own children. They'll need rooms, too."

"Oh," said Harry, a bit shaken, but in a good way, at having something brought up that was still, in his mind, at least, relegated to the distant future.

The lack of further comments prompted Hermione to ask, perhaps a bit unnecessarily, "You _do_ want some children of our own, don't you?"

"Of course," replied Harry, at once. "I'd hate to let all of that practice in trying to get one go to waste."

Hermione laughed. The way Harry dealt with small children left no doubt in her heart that he'd be a good father, albeit one that might be a bad influence; especially when he got together with Ron. With that thought, she stood up and faced her husband.

"I suppose that one way to celebrate," she said, giving Harry a slight pull to help him to his feet, "would be to get back into training."

"Now you're talking," replied Harry, taking her into his embrace. After their kiss, he increased his hug and popped them back to their bedroom.

* * *

Tuesday, December 9th, 1997

"This the scene of the crime?" Jack Dawlish had his hands in the pockets of the jacket of his 'muggle suit'. He had been informed by the recipient of his question that they'd be doing some investigating in muggle London and to dress accordingly.

"Maybe," replied Rufus. He had stopped a few feet in front of the door. At first glance, it might appear as if he were reading the signs indicating the name and hours of the establishment. As that took a total of ten seconds, at best, he gradually took on the countenance of a man who was deciding if he wanted to enter in the first place.

After a few more seconds, Jack determined his purpose on this expedition and gave Rufus a firm push towards the door.

"I was going to go in," complained Rufus, taking the handle. He paused, nevertheless, before having the presence of one of the customers inside who wished to leave force his hand. Pulling the door open, he backed away to allow the young lady to exit. With a visible gulp, he stepped through the doorway with Jack right behind.

Willcotts Jewelry was somewhat brighter and definitely larger than the dilapidated store formerly run by the Saruses. It did, however, have one characteristic in common with what would have been Rufus' first choice; it's wares included jewelry with prices more suited to the middle class. The remaining pair of jewellers on Diagon Alley were more or less part time ventures, making commissioned pieces for the well-to-do.

Briefly taking in the layout of the store, as well as the location and general appearance of everyone in it; old habits being hard to break, after all, Rufus led the way over to the first of two display cabinets with a helpful sign on top emblazoned with the words 'Engagement Rings'.

Rufus peered through the top; his nose only an inch away from smudging the glass. After a few moments, he rhetorically asked, rather too loudly, "Why in the world won't these places clearly label the prices?"

"They _are_ labeled," noted Jack, pointing at the small tags with even smaller writing upon them.

"Oh, like I could read _that_," scoffed Rufus, dismissively. He reached inside his coat for the pocket that would have been in his normal robes. It wasn't there, nor was the magnifying glass that was inside it.

"I don't know," mumbled Rufus, giving a cursory look at the entire top shelf. "They all look pretty much the same to me." After making another attempt to read the tags, he gave up and asked, "How much is that one in the corner?" He briefly pointed at the two carat solitaire with the twisted gold and platinum band.

"Let's see," replied Jack, getting as close as he could. "It's... seventy-five hundred pounds." He stood back up to observe his boss' reaction.

"Seventy-five hundred," repeated Rufus. "Let's see... That would be..." He thought for a moment before resorting to touching his fingertips while apparently looking at something on the ceiling.

"Fifteen-hundred galleons," replied Jack, moments after finishing the conversion himself.

"Hmm," pondered Rufus. "That seems a bit... What about _that_ one?" He indicated another ring with a slightly more difficult to see stone.

"Five-thousand," replied Jack, "or twelve-fifty, to you," automatically doing the math this time. "At least you're heading in the right direction." He then stooped down to take a look at the bottom shelf. "Hmm. There's a few here in the three hundred pound range."

"Don't be silly," said Rufus, dismissively. "Minerva means much too much to me to give her such a... such a..." Despite his protests, he had nevertheless backed up a step to glance at the lower level of the cabinet. "That one in the brown box doesn't look too shabby." He joined Jack with a crouch of his own.

"It's a bit more," noted Jack, "but still only four-hundred pounds."

"That's not too bad," replied Rufus. "It's not like she'd..."

"Good morning, gentlemen," said a middle-aged, yet still quite lovely woman as she leaned over her side of the counter. "My name is Mrs. Hart. May I be of assistance?"

"No," said Rufus, instinctively, as he and Jack sprang back to a standing position. Actually, Jack did most of the springing with Rufus reaching up for a hand. Realizing what he had said, Rufus amended, "I mean, yes. We... er... I need to purchase an engagement ring for my... ah, girlfriend." He lowered his voice a bit embarrassedly at the end, despite not really having many viable alternatives that could identify Minerva's current status.

"I see," acknowledged the woman. "Well, you've come to the right place. Did you have anything in particular in mind?"

"Not really," admitted Rufus. "A diamond's a diamond, as far as I'm concerned."

"Oh, sir," chuckled Mrs. Hart, "I can assure you that diamonds differ to as great a degree as the women who wear them. Allow me to help. Could you tell me a bit about your, ah, intended?"

"Well," began Rufus, "she's about five foot eight; maybe one-hundred and seventy-five or one-hundred eighty pounds. Seventy-eight years old. She has auburn hair with a significant amount of grey. She has two distinctive scars; the first..."

"She didn't ask for a missing person report," interrupted Jack. Turning to the amused saleslady, he said, "She's a Scot, if that helps. Big part of her personality. Tartan is green and black. Fairly refined and reserved; with most people, that is. Likes cats and children, although I'm not sure about the children. Terrible taste in men."

"That's enough to start," said Rufus. He had squatted back down to view the lower shelf while Jack took over with the description. Since Jack was doing a fair job at it, he decided to return to his original investigation.

"Let me guess," said the saleswoman. "You're both policemen. Not only that, but you've been partners for quite a long time."

"Not currently correct," replied Jack, giving Rufus a hand in regaining his standing position, "but you've got the picture pretty close."

"Retired, I assume," assumed Mrs. Hart. "That would explain viewing our less expensive pieces."

"I'm not exactly retired," replied Rufus, "and I'm definitely not penniless, if that's what you meant, but I don't plan to buy the Star of India, either."

"Of course not," she replied. "Did you have a price range in mind?"

Rufus had to think about this for a moment. The correct answer was _no_, of course, but the implied question needed an actual number. "No more than, ah, let me see... five thousand pounds, I guess," he said, hoping he did the math correctly.

"That should be plenty for a very fine ring," noted Mrs. Hart, quickly determining her commission. She took out her keys and selected a tray from the top shelf. Setting it on top of the glass counter top, she asked, "May I ask why you brought your friend instead of your lady? Many couples prefer to choose the ring together, after all."

"It's a surprise," replied Rufus, glancing at the rings. Jack laughed.

With a frown of acknowledgment to his friend, Rufus admitted, "Well, at least _when_ I ask will be a surprise. Minerva's been dropping some pretty severe hints lately."

"And when do you plan to pop the question?" asked Mrs. Hart, nosily.

"Christmas morning," replied Rufus. "I have the wedding set up for Boxing Day with our honeymoon reservations in place for Venice."

"You're taking a bit of a risk, aren't you?" asked Mrs. Hart. "I mean, the poor dear won't have time to pack."

"We'll get by," said Rufus. "She only has a couple of weeks off. She's the headmistress of Hog... a school, so we need to head out right away so she'll get back in time for the next term."

"I see," replied Mrs. Hart. "That wouldn't stop you from asking her earlier, would it?"

"I don't want to have any distractions from Christmas," explained Rufus. "My granddaughter lives with me and, well, she's only five. Christmas is a big deal for her. I want the week leading up to it to be about just Christmas and not about the wedding."

"I understand," replied Mrs. Hart. "I suppose we'd better get back to business, then." She paused a moment; thinking. "Might I make a suggestion?"

"Of course," replied Rufus. "You're the expert, after all."

"This isn't an expert sort of suggestion, by any means," continued Mrs. Hart. "I was just thinking that perhaps you should cast your net a bit wider when choosing your ring. It doesn't have to be a diamond, after all."

"It doesn't?" asked Rufus, surprised. "I thought there was some sort of a rule about that."

Mrs. Hart laughed, good-naturedly. "Not at all. Almost any gem is acceptable. No, what I'm thinking is that at seventy-eight years old, she might prefer something a bit larger. A bit easier to see, if you get my meaning."

"There's nothing wrong with her eyesight," countered Rufus. "Why, just the other night when we were getting into bed, she... ah, well, never mind. It's an interesting idea in any respect. What did you have in mind?"

* * *

Later that afternoon, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Take your seats, please." Professor Coldiron had just entered the room. Uncharacteristically, he not only closed the doors, but also locked them. Adding to the implied security, he then unsheathed his wand and cast a spell that caused a purple shadow to trace the outlines of the doors and windows. The unusual acts brought the entire class to a hushed silence. This unnatural state allowed the bumping emanating from the cupboard off to the side of the room nearest the teacher's desk to be plainly heard.

"As you should have already deduced," began the professor as he took his place at the front of the room, "today's lesson concerns boggarts; specifically the one in the cupboard. The extra security spells are merely to prevent it from getting loose in the castle."

"Professor?" asked Susan Bones, tentatively raising her hand. At his nod, she said, "We've already studied boggarts, sir. Third Year, I believe, with Professor Lupin."

"I'm well aware of that, Miss Bones," replied Coldiron. "In fact, when this particular boggart decided to attempt to take up residence in one of the kitchen pantries, I had initially decided to do the same with the current Third Year class. However, while reviewing Professor Lupin's notes on your class, I came across something interesting that I hope will be very useful during this lesson. That's why I rearranged the syllabus to discuss dementors today. Now, if there aren't any more questions, we'll begin."

There weren't any more questions, so Coldiron walked over to stand next to the cupboards. "Now, as I've said, this cupboard contains a boggart. We will be using its inherent nature to learn and practice the necessary spell to protect ourselves from Dementors." The class shuddered at the mention of the creature.

"Harry," said Coldiron in a summoning voice. Harry obediently rose and took his position next to the professor. "Harry," repeated Coldiron, "could you explain the Expecto Patronum spell to the class?" He took two steps away from Harry before turning to observe his answer.

"Well," began Harry, "the Expecto Patronum spell, when properly performed, will summon your patronus. This usually takes on some sort of an animal form. Mine happens to be a stag. Anyway, it's made up of some sort of energy that is able to drive off the dementors." Harry prepared to continue, but was distracted by someone raising their hand. "Yes, Hermione?"

"It should be pointed out," began Hermione, addressing the class more than Harry, "that Harry taught..." she paused to briefly look around the class, "about a third of the students here how to perform this spell two years ago. I mention this so that those who weren't in the DA won't feel that they're slow or something."

"Good point," agreed Harry. "It's unlikely that most of you would be able to immediately summon an actual corporeal patronus; one that looks like something. It took me a long time to be able to do it properly. This takes time and practice, along with a fair amount of magic. For now, though, most of you can expect to see a grey mist. This is sufficient to offer some protection against dementors, but wouldn't be a long term solution. Now that the dementors have sided with Voldemort..."

"Ahhh!" screamed about five students not usually in Harry's circle of friends.

"Sorry," said Harry. "I meant that now that the dementors have sided with You-Know-Who, it's more important than ever to learn this spell. Although..." He thought for a moment before asking, "Professor; wouldn't the Incendio spell be just as effective? We know now that they burn, so..."

"Actually," replied Coldiron, "from what I've heard, the Ministry is looking into that." Turning to the class, he explained, "What Mr. Potter is referring to is using fire to defend against dementors. During what was supposed to be his memorial service, Harry and his dragon friends incinerated a great many of the dementors that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had brought with him. Naturally, the question was brought up as to whether the Incendio or other similar spells might be useful. As it turns out, it's a difficult question to answer. Basically, the problem is that without lining up a bunch of dementors and trying to cremate them, it would be difficult to determine how effective any of the available spells would be. What has already been determined, and can also be found in the appendix to your NEWT spell book, is that an Incendio Maximus spell can generate between seventeen and nineteen hundred degree flames. Dragonfire, on the other hand, can exceed five thousand degrees, depending on the dragon and type of flame. The general consensus so far is that the Incendio would be better than nothing, but it would be best to know the Expecto Patronum spell." Again, he indicated that Harry should continue.

"Right," said Harry to refocus himself. "To explain how I'm going to be able to help with today's lesson, it's necessary to discuss why dementors are so feared. No, I'm not going to call on you." Hermione had automatically shot her hand into the air; unable, it seemed, to control herself.

"A dementor," continued Harry, "does something quite nasty to its victims. It feeds off happy thoughts and emotions; sucking them out of you. This can proceed, if unstopped, to actually sucking out your soul." The class gasped, silently.

Harry smiled, grimly. "Yes," he went on, "it's an unpleasant feeling, I assure you. Now, the worst part of this is that eliminating the protective layer of good and happy memories allows your darker memories to come to the forefront of your minds. Whatever causes you the most misery is what you'll remember. This makes them similar to boggarts." He gestured at the cabinet. "A boggart will become a thing or creature that you fear. We've already learned how to handle them, thank goodness."

"You just use the Ridiculus spell and turn them into something funny," confirmed Hannah Abbot.

"That's right," agreed Harry. "Now, the reason that I'm able to use that trait of boggarts to help learn about dementors is that my worst fear actually is a dementor. They make me... I have to remember..."

"Take a moment, Harry," said Coldiron. Hermione quickly stood, but Harry indicated she should retake her seat.

"Dementors," resumed Harry, "make me remember when my parents were killed by Vol... You-Know-Who. I can hear them; especially my mother as she begged..." He shook his head free of the thoughts. "Anyway, that's why Professor Coldiron asked me to assist him today. Once we learn the specifics of the Expecto Patronum spell, he'll open the cabinet and I'll be the first thing the boggart will notice. It'll change into a dementor. At that point, all of you will take turns to drive it off. Again, this takes time and practice so unless you were able to produce one during the DA sessions, don't be disappointed if you don't get it right away."

"Thank you, Harry," said Coldiron. "Now, if I could have your attention, we'll get started. One of the key aspects of the Expecto Patronum spell is having a very clear, vivid and happy memory. This is important because..."

After the first half of the double period was over, it was time to work on the practical training of the spell. Of the DA members, the only ones still able to effectively produce a corporeal patronus were Ron, Hermione and Seamus. Ernie was very close to getting his boar, but it just wasn't quite there, today.

"Alright," said Coldiron, "that's probably as good as we're going to get, for now. Line up and we'll try you all out with the boggart. Remember, it isn't a real dementor, but it will feel terrible, anyway. By way of warning, a real dementor, for those of you who didn't get the chance to experience one first hand at Harry's funeral, are about ten times worse."

By virtue of Hermione's slower than normal pace and Ron's natural predilection to not being first, Dean Thomas ended up being the first in line. His patronus was definitely non-corporeal, but had been among the thickest of the grey mists, so he wasn't particularly concerned with at least holding back the anticipated fake dementor.

"Do you have your happy thought?" asked Coldiron. At Dean's hesitant nod, he opened the cupboard.

The view of the inside of the cupboard was blocked by the door, but Harry could see the boggart coalesce into his greatest fear. It wasn't a dementor, though.

"It's about bloody time, Potter!" shouted Hermione. Her strained shuffle was missing as she strode purposefully in his direction.

"Her... Hermione..." stuttered Harry, quickly backing away. "I... I..." He stopped as he had to change direction upon bumping against the wall.

"I've been locked up in there for God knows how long," continued Hermione, "waiting for you to stammer out your laughably incomplete instructions."

"I'm sorry," apologized Harry, still trying to maintain some distance. "I..."

"You've got some explaining to do, Potter," said someone off to his right. Turning, he saw Hermione; the real one, that is, quickly approaching, albeit using the nearest desks for support.

"What?" asked Harry, confused. He looked back towards the first Hermione, who was pulling her wand. "Uhh, excuse me!" he exclaimed, trying to make his way through a knot of students. His wives both continued with the hunt.

Sensing that there was only one thing to do, he pulled his own wand and headed for the door.

"Stop right there!" came the stereo instructions, but Harry was having none of it. Shouting "Reducto!" he sprinted through the gaping hole and was halfway down the hallway, his greatest fear in hot pursuit, before the splinters hit the floor.

Author's Note: A short chapter, I know. This is my first day of vacation, though, so I have hopes of getting another one done before I go back to work on Saturday. I left the purchase of Minerva's ring a mystery so none of you spoil her surprise.

Dad


	136. Chapter 136

Chapter 136 - A Library of Concerns

December 9th, 1997

Suppertime in the Great Hall

"Don't you think you're overdoing it?" asked Hermione. "I mean, really." She turned her attention back to her shrimp scampi.

Harry, sitting next to his wife at the end of the Gryffindor table, examined her closely for a moment. Detecting no appreciable amount of smoke coming from her ears, he shrugged and said, over his shoulder, "I think I can handle it from here on out." With a nod, the two red-robed figures standing on either side and just behind him nodded respectfully before disappearing.

"So," asked Hermione, attempting to change the subject a little while not quite letting it go, "what sort of detention did you get from Coldiron?" When Harry had arrived for supper, about ten minutes after Hermione, and accompanied by his bodyguards, he had been summoned directly to the Professor's dais to have a short conference with Professor Coldiron and Headmistress McGonagall. As this took only a minute, Hermione assumed that her husband's detention had been explained.

"Well," began Harry, before quickly finishing chewing the bite of sirloin steak that he had just placed in his mouth, "I have to fix the door."

"And the wall it was in," continued Ron.

"And the wall it was in," repeated Harry, grinning. He then went back to his meal.

"That's it?" asked Ginny, incredulously. She had heard seven versions of the tale in the past hour and forty-five minutes; none of which would have ended without some sort of punishment involving a toothbrush and the grouting in the Great Hall.

"Apparently," replied Harry. "I'm pretty sure they had something else in mind, but I merely asked them what the proper response under those circumstances should have been."

"And?" asked Hermione, her temper resurfacing a bit.

"Well," answered Harry, "after due consideration, they said that if not one, but two enraged Hermiones were after _them_, running for it would have been their first choice, as well." _Most_ of those within earshot laughed.

Hermione glanced around in slightly bewildered annoyance. How in the world did Harry manage to turn these particular tables to make her the butt of the jokes?

"Stop that, Hermione," requested Ron. "It's doesn't seem right when you look confused, somehow."

"Personally, I don't see what the great mystery is," opined Honey. "I doubt there's a person in the castle that wouldn't make a hasty exit if Hermione really wanted a piece of them."

"There are lots of scarier people in Hogwarts than me," stated Hermione in all sincerity.

"Name one," challenged Ginny. "Well, besides Harry, of course. I mean, show of hands, please. How many people in the castle; no, just make that anyone, would actually attack Voldemort?"

"And Snape," added Ron, "and his bodyguards."

"Don't forget the dementor," added Hermione, finally getting the point. "All right. I'll admit that there might be some basis to the premise. Still, I wouldn't and couldn't do serious harm to Harry and he should know that." She faced her husband at the end of the sentence, awaiting his response.

Harry had to give this some thought. Finally, he said, "You're probably right that I wouldn't be killed if we got into a real wand fight. Neither would you, most likely, but God help the innocent bystanders."

As it seemed that a reasonable conclusion to the conversation had finally been reached, Luna asked, "So now that you're far enough on the way to recovery to terrify Harry, will you be resuming your excursions?"

"I had planned to," replied Hermione. "I believe that your group has finished checking your assigned destinations?"

"Just," replied Luna. "It was odd that the only place that had a secret location was the first one we checked."

"Funny how that works, sometimes," replied Ron. "It's almost like someone out there wants to help us. More than once in the past, one or more of us has been in the right place at the right time to hear or see just what we'd absolutely have to know to proceed with one of our adventures."

"That's true," agreed Hermione. "Sometimes, you don't even realize how fortunate you've been until well past the incident. Take the dementors, for example. One of them inexplicably attacked Harry on the train. At the time, it seemed like a terrible thing, but if that hadn't happened, he'd have never spent months learning the Expecto Patronum spell with Remus and we'd both be dead right now. It goes to show, you never know."

"You wouldn't have been completely dead," corrected Luna. "They would have sucked out your souls and..."

"Okay," interrupted Hermione, "worse than dead, then." She nodded towards the suddenly pale Honey so that Luna would know to hold off on further comments.

"So who will be in on the group?" asked Harry. He was just about finished with supper and needed to wrap things up to make one of his increasingly rare limb replacement sessions with Poppy.

"I've been doing better, lately," replied Honey, knowing that she was the only uncertainty. "I think I'll be able to make a few trips this weekend, as long as they aren't difficult."

"They shouldn't be," replied Hermione. "We do plan to take the opportunity to do a bit of our Christmas shopping, in case you wanted to make a list." Honey nodded in reply.

"That reminds me," said Harry. "Remember the trading cards that we got a week or so ago? I noticed the other day that they're still pretty popular on the bulletin board. I was thinking of writing Honeydukes and seeing if they'd make up a hundred or so sets; with frogs, of course, and we could give them out as Christmas presents to the First and Second Years."

"First and Second Years my Aunt Fanny," blurted out Ron. "I want a set, as well." There were additional comments along those lines from Dean, Neville, Seamus and almost everyone else within earshot.

"Five hundred sets, then," said Hermione, making a note. "Better make it six. Bound to be a popular item."

"You'll take care of it, then?" asked Harry.

"Of course," replied Hermione, "but you do realize that this will mean signing six hundred cards, don't you?"

Harry had not considered this at all, of course, but acknowledged the extra work with a shrug. With no additional topics coming up, he rose and left to attend to his medical obligations.

* * *

December 10th, 1997

Around ten o'clock in the morning at the Peckham Library in central London

"I believe this is the book that you're looking for," said the heavyset woman who was currently acting as Jerry Knight's sherpa through the maze of shelves in the muggle library. She pulled down the leather-bound tome and set it on a nearby table. The name _The Silmarillion _was emblazoned across the cover.

"Thanks," said Jerry, pulling out a chair. "I shouldn't be more than an hour or so."

"That's not a problem," said the librarian. "If you should need it longer than you think, it's available for a two week checkout."

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Jerry. He watched as the muggle turned a corner and passed from his sight.

Opening the book, he made the common wizarding mistake of not turning immediately to the index when searching for specific information. Instead, he read the foreword, which, while not specifically having anything to do with his sought-after subject, did give him a bit of hope with the serendipitous discovery that this book dealt with what was said to be the _First Dark Lord. _Hoping that it would allow him to be useful to the current Dark Lord, he delved deep into its pages.

About forty-five minutes later; coincidentally in another library, several hundred miles away.

"Pardon me, Mistress," said Monty. He had materialized in front of Hermione, but about ten feet distant. This consideration prevented the usual shock associated with the sudden magical arrival of someone.

"Good morning, Monty," said Hermione, finishing her current sentence before setting down her book. "What can I do for you?"

"I have some information that might be of use," replied Monty. "Mr. Jerry Knight has just been detected in Muggle London."

"Hmm," mused Hermione, softly. "I wonder what he's doing there."

"It seemed odd to the house-elfs running the contraption, as well, Mistress," noted Monty. "If Mistress wishes, I could dispatch a pair of Free Elfs to determine his activity."

"Yes, please," replied Hermione. "Under invisibility cloaks, of course."

"Of course, Mistress," replied Monty. He then simply stood where he was. This would, of course, have thoroughly confused most of Hermione's associates; Harry leading the pack, but she merely waited, patiently.

After about forty seconds, Monty said, "Mr. Knight appears to be reading in some sort of a muggle library, Mistress. There doesn't seem to be any of his fellow Death Eaters in the vicinity, but Lumpy and Pinty are equipped with a map if you'd like a more informed assessment."

"Have them do that," ordered Hermione. "Where's Harry?"

"Mr. Potter is currently in your sitting room, Mistress," replied Monty. "He's chatting with his snake."

"He's talking with Reggie?" asked Hermione. "What about?"

"I wouldn't know, Mistress," replied Monty. "I only know of the conversation through a chance remark by Winky with _The Voice_. If you'd like, I could ask her for more details, although that might conflict with her requirements to keep her master's secrets."

"Hmm," mumbled Hermione for a moment before dismissing the idea. "No, that won't be necessary. I'll ask him about it, later. Just let me know when Lumpy and, ah..."

"Pinty, Mistress," reminded Monty.

"Yes," agreed Hermione, "Pinty. Let me know when they've finished their check for other Death Eaters."

"They've finished, Mistress," replied Monty, "at least on the current floor of the muggle library. There are no other marked Death Eaters nearby."

"Excellent," replied Hermione, putting a note in the book she had been reading. Stuffing it in her bag, she ordered, "Have Lumpy and Pinty remain there as my guards; just in case. Have another invisible elf take me to an isolated part of the library."

"At once, Mistress," replied Monty. He remained alert, but motionless for about ten seconds. With a sudden, but expected pop, Stomper arrived; an invisibility cloak draped over his arm.

"Good morning, Stomper," greeted Hermione. "Are you ready to go?"

"Whenever you is being ready, Mistress," replied Stomper. He handed the cloak to Hermione who draped it over the both of them. Reaching up, he then took hold of Hermione's left thumb. After she secured the grip, the pair of them popped off.

* * *

The ball-point pen scratched nearly silently over the surface of the spiral-bound notebook. Currently about half-way down the page, the nine salient points of interest concerning balrogs lent a sufficient amount of data that further study might no longer be necessary. Still, Jerry didn't wish to spend more time than required in the muggle world and that included unnecessary return trips. Finishing the current sentence, he continued his search through the book.

From two aisles over, and looking through a sparsely populated shelf, Hermione, visible again, yet still undetected, noted that Jerry was as aware as she that one of the tricks to being unnoticed in the muggle world was to use muggle tools; in this case a muggle pen and muggle notepad. Her estimation for his intelligence went up a click. She considered borrowing Stompers cloak, again, and just walking up to see what he was working on, but decided that engaging him in a conversation might yield better results. Besides, she would still be able to glance at both the book and notes, anyway.

"I'm going to go talk to him," she whispered to Stomper. "Keep an eye out for any of his friends."

"I is being watching, Mistress," replied Stomper, invisibly. Unknown to Hermione, every member of the Hogwarts Free Elves was _listening in_ on this encounter. With a word from Stomper, twenty elves would appear in less than two seconds.

Working her way around the shelves, partially for support, but mostly so that she'd be coming up behind Jerry, Hermione stepped up within a few feet and asked, "Are you finding everything you're looking for?" in a soft and nondescript voice.

Thinking it was the librarian checking in, Jerry turned his head to briefly acknowledge her thoughtfulness with a smile and replied, "I think so." He had only turned halfway back when he realized to whom he was speaking. Spinning his entire body around to face her, he sputtered out, "Hermione! What are..."

"Shh," shushed Hermione, looking around. "We're in a library." Indeed, the usual exaggerated quiet of the library had momentarily gone completely silent as people looked up at the disturbance. Hearing nothing further, everyone went back to their studies.

"What are you doing here?" asked Jerry, still quite surprised, but able to use a whisper.

Hermione stepped around Jerry and took the chair opposite him. "Funny you should ask," she replied. "That's pretty much the same question I had for you." She reached over to spin the open book around.

Jerry momentarily tried to stop her, but restrained himself. He hadn't had time to come up with a cover story, yet, but looking suspicious probably wouldn't be a clever part of one.

"_The Silmarillian?_" asked Hermione, actually perplexed. She used Jerry's continued silence to do a quick analysis. Coming up short, she said, "I'll have to admit, I don't have an ideas springing to mind on how this book will do either you or Voldemort any good." She made a mental note to herself to stop by her parent's house to pick up her copy. If Jerry was reading it, she had better do the same.

"It's not for Vol... er, I mean The Dark Lord," replied Jerry. "I was, ah, just checking something out."

"Really," acknowledged Hermione. "Like what?"

"I..." began Jerry, all too aware that he didn't have a clue on how to finish this sentence. "I was, ah, just trying to find out some information about... Julie's Christmas present." It was the first thing he could think of under pressure. For the past day or so, he had actually been knocking around a few ideas about what to get his new girlfriend, but trying to tie anything he had considered with anything in the book in front of him was not going to be easy.

Hermione looked at the book lying open in front of her. Since it was the deluxe edition, several detailed drawings were scattered about the pages. As the beings portrayed were all mythical, she couldn't see the point of a detailed analysis. Perhaps he was actually telling the truth about a Christmas present and Julie had expressed an interest in fantasy art.

Needing to further the conversation and taking a guess along those lines, she delivered Jerry from his dilemma. "Are you thinking of giving her some artwork?"

Jerry paused for just a moment before saying, "Yes. Ah, yes; that's exactly right."

Having known both Ron and Harry for years, Hermione could tell when someone was attempting to fabricate a story on the spot. Letting out some more rope, she asked, "So has she mentioned that she's a fan of Tolkien, specifically? Does she follow an artist that's featured in this book? Perhaps she's mentioned a favorite demon?" She then raised her hands palms up in a gesture to indicate he should pick something and go with it.

Jerry wasn't a researcher for Voldemort for nothing. He, like Hermione, had a fairly broad based background of information and a moderately quick mind. Coming up with a reasonable scenario, he said, "When I took her home after the dinner party, I noticed that she had a few imaginative prints and posters on her walls. I didn't recognize the specific creatures, or perhaps I didn't have the capacity to recognize them at the time." He paused, giving an impish grin and a quick pantomime of raising a wine glass to suggest why that might have been the case. "Anyway, I was hoping that I'd see something that might jog my memory."

_Not bad,_ thought Hermione. A believable premise, given the time of year. A fair chance that Julie might have some sort of artwork in her flat that could be construed as inspired by mythology. A reasonable scapegoat; namely the alcohol that had been consumed at dinner, if some things didn't turn out to be entirely accurate. Hermione considered that with a little expert tutoring from Harry and Ron, Jerry might become very good at this game. Deciding to change the subject, perhaps with a chance of re-engaging the true purpose of examining the book from a different direction, Hermione asked, "So how have things been going between you and Julie?"

"Fine," replied Jerry, "just fine." Feeling the need to back that up, he added, "We're going to meet for lunch, today, in fact."

"Really?" asked Hermione. "Taking her any place special?"

"A bit special, I suppose," replied Jerry, smiling. He felt that he had survived the discussion with his secrets more or less intact and only had to finish up with the closing chit chat. "We're meeting at the _Soggy Shoe_." He glanced at his watch, despite the fact that the clock located on the wall was just over Hermione's head. He still had plenty of time.

"Ooh," cooed Hermione, smiling herself. "That's a bit on the posh side, isn't it?"

"It is," agreed Jerry. "Then again, I intend to get her into a good mood before trying to convince her to go along with my plans for the weekend."

"Rushing things, aren't you?" asked Hermione, her eyebrow slipping under her bangs.

"What?" asked a momentarily confused Jerry. Catching on quickly, he replied, "They aren't _that_ sort of plans. Well, not entirely... Anyway, I'm still on the list as far as the PBA is concerned, so I have four tickets to the expo this weekend. I was hoping that Julie would agree to come along and we'd make a day of it."

"The PBA?" asked Hermione. Acronyms are usually field specific, but you have to know what field you're talking about before you can make a reasonable guess.

"The Professional Broom-maker's Association," said Jerry. "There's an expo showcasing next year's models at the Kraaken Center. All the manufacturers will be there." The anticipation in his voice was quite evident.

"Sounds exciting," lied Hermione. "I'll have to mention it to Harry and Ron."

"Oh, they won't be able to get in," replied Jerry. "It's an industry deal. Not open to the public."

"I thought you were planning on taking Julie," rebutted Hermione.

"As a guest," explained Jerry. "They give us extra tickets for wives and girlfriends."

"I see," said Hermione, trying to let it drop. She didn't want to give the impression of suggesting Jerry offer his extra tickets to Harry and her. Harry would have the time of his life, of course, but she... not so much.

Unfortunately, Jerry had orders which came to mind; chum up with Harry Potter. With the added realization that he might be able to put the whole day on his expense account, he asked, "Would you and Harry like to be my guests, as well?"

_Damn!_ thought Hermione. Aloud, she replied, "Oh, I wouldn't want to take advantage of you."

"It's no problem, really," countered Jerry. "I've got two extra tickets."

"Really," replied Hermione, "I'm sure that you and Julie would prefer to be alone. I wouldn't want to spoil your date."

"Nonsense," replied Jerry. "I'm sure we'd all have a wonderful time."

"Well, I'll mention it to Harry," said Hermione. Then, seeing a legitimate ejection button; for herself, at least, she added, "With only two tickets, though, it might work out better for you to invite Harry and Ron. They're both the broom fanatics, after all."

Jerry considered this. It was true Harry and Ron would offer the best company for this sort of an event, but that might cause a wrinkle on the romantic front. "That would make Julie the only girl. It wouldn't be much fun for her hanging around with three blokes. How about this. I'm pretty sure I can snag a couple more tickets. Some of my former workmates haven't had anyone to bring for years. Then all four of you could come." He smiled, encouragingly.

Hermione recognized that she really had no choice in the first place. She'd be making a report about this meeting and both Harry and Ron would never forgive her if she turned down their chance to get involved with some really in-depth discussions with a slew of experts about the latest broomstick technology. With a sigh, she said, "We'd love to."

* * *

Later that night, in a slightly nicer than usual bedroom in the Dark Lord's stronghold at Seaton Ross.

"I need a wheelbarrow," declared Julie Notzobad, stepping next to a table that had been discovered to be just the right height for some relief. Setting her mammoth belly on top, she caught her breath. "I don't know how much longer I can take this."

Kyle smiled. Stepping up behind her, he put his arms around both her and their child. "I can't wait, either," he said, softly, as he kissed the back of her neck.

"You just want to have some more room in bed," joked Julie, feeling better now that she had three extra legs assisting her with their little bundle of joy.

"There is that, as well," agreed Kyle. Releasing her, he said, "I wonder if she'll be a Christmas baby."

"I bloody well hope not," snapped Julie, sliding off the table and staggering over to a comfortable stuffed chair. "That's two weeks from now." She didn't want to wait two more hours, if the truth were known.

"Don't worry," replied Kyle. "Mrs. Hogan said that she'll be coming along any day." Mrs. Hogan, while not officially a midwife, had served in that capacity for the Death Eater wives for the past two years and was seldom proven wrong.

"I certainly hope so," said Julie. Changing the subject to an earlier one, she asked, hopefully, "Have you heard back from Snape?"

Kyle's shoulders slumped a bit as he answered, "Yes, I have. We have to move with the rest; at least one more time. He did say that we might not be moving after that for a week or so. With any luck, this will be the last time until after the baby comes."

"I hope so," muttered Julie.

"Oh, I do have some good news," added Kyle, perking up. "I've received permission to hire a muggle minicab to take us to the new place."

"That _is_ good news," agreed Julie. "Did you find out which it is?"

"Ninebanks," replied Kyle.

"Ninebanks?" asked Julie, bewildered. "But weren't we at Ninebanks just a couple of weeks ago?"

"That's exactly what I asked," said Kyle. "Snape must have been in a good mood because he actually explained that we weren't going to move in the same order all the time. It'd be too easy to figure out the sequence."

"That makes sense," noted Julie. "So what time do we leave?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," answered Kyle. "It's a couple of hours from here the muggle way, but..." There was no need to explain. The usual magical means of travel; floo, apparition or portkey, didn't feel so good when you were nine months pregnant. Anyone who suggested a broom took their life in their hands. It was one of the few times that almost any magical person understood that the muggle way was pretty much the only option.

Julie sighed. "Well," she said, "let's hope it _is_ the last time for awhile. Ninebanks is pretty in the winter. It'll be a wonderful place to have our first Christmas with our daughter."

"That it will," agreed Kyle. With a mutual anticipation of the coming of their first child, they proceeded to prepare for bed.

* * *

December 11th, 1997

Just after classes, in the sitting room of the Head Students Suite.

"It's just more logical," continued Hermione as she and Harry entered through the door from the Gryffindor common room. "The two of you can already talk to each other. If we do it my way, communications would be improved for everyone."

"We 're already able to chat," admitted Harry. "What we're discussing, though, is something quite beyond that." He set his book bag on the table and removed his Hogwarts robes.

"I agree," agreed Hermione. "I'm not saying it wouldn't be more in my favor than yours. It's just that I don't have your other options. It's this or nothing." She had placed her own bag on her desk and removed her bookcase while continuing the discussion.

"Why don't we bring Reggie in on this conversation?" asked Harry. "It will involve him as much as us, after all."

"Sounds fair," agreed Hermione. She started towards their sofa while calling out, "Reggie. Could you join us for a moment?"

Reggie, who had been stretched out comfortably directly in front of the hearth, woke up and hissed out, _"Wha... Did someone say something to me?"_

_"Hermione did,"_ replied Harry, also in Parseltongue. _"We'd like to talk to you about something, if you don't mind."_

_"Right-o," _replied Reggie, shaking the cobwebs from out of his head. He slithered over to the sofa and, deciding to use the person who had been designated as at fault for waking him, coiled around Hermione's leg for support on his way to the cushion left between her and her husband. Adjusting himself for comfort, he glanced between them and hissed, _"What's up?"_

_"Well," _replied Harry, who was the only one who could understand the snake,_ "it was brought up a few days ago that the problems that Hermione has been having in making Crookshanks her familiar probably stem from the relative intelligence of Crookshanks when compared to Hermione."_

_"In other words, the compost heap isn't smart enough," _replied Reggie._ "Maybe you should look into getting one of the descendants of Schrödinger's cat." _He hissed a short snake laugh.

"Who's cat?" asked Harry, this time in English.

"Who's cat?" repeated Hermione, but with a different meaning. "What are you two talking about?"

"I was explaining why Crookshanks wasn't working out for you," replied Harry. "Reggie just suggested we try to get one of the offspring of someone else's cat."

_"It was a joke," _hissed Reggie.

"Who's cat?" asked Hermione, once again changing the meaning of the exact same phrase.

_"He said it was a joke," _replied Harry, unfortunately in parseltongue.

"Now what are you saying?" demanded an exasperated Hermione.

"I said," repeated Harry, in English, "that he said it was a joke."

"Oh," said Hermione. Thinking for a second, she said, "He probably made some sort of a reference to Schrödinger's cat."

_"She's spooky," _replied Reggie, sliding a bit closer to Harry in mild bewilderment.

"True enough," muttered Harry towards Reggie.

"What's true enough?" asked Hermione. She was starting to get fed up with the pair of them.

"That we should get on with the discussion," improvised Harry. Turning more to Reggie, but actively trying to not slip into parseltongue, he said, "Hermione and I would both like to have you as our familiar. That means that you'd have a sort of a link, if you will, where you could communicate back and forth with one of us."

_"We can already talk," _replied Reggie.

_"I know," _agreed Harry. _"This would work even when we aren't near each other."_

_"You mean you'd always know what I was thinking,"_ asked Reggie, _"and I'd always know what you were thinking?"_

_"I'm not sure," _replied Harry. He looked to Hermione for an answer.

"What?" she asked.

"What do you think about Reggie's question?" asked Harry.

"I don't' speak parseltongue," replied Hermione.

"That might be a problem," affirmed Harry. "You might not be able to understand him."

_"She means," _added Reggie, _"that she didn't hear my question. You know, I'm not sure I'd like to agree to this with either of you. You and I can already talk back and forth and I suspect all I'd hear from Hermione would be mutterings about how bloody clueless her husband is."_

"I'm not bloody clueless," retorted Harry. He leaned back, insulted. Unfortunately, both Hermione and Reggie were giving him the same 'Riiiight' look.

"Anyway," said Hermione, "what does he think of the idea."

_"I'm sitting right here," _said Reggie.

"I'm sure she meant no insult," said Harry, consolingly.

"No, I didn't," added Hermione, abruptly. "Tell him I didn't."

_"There she goes again," _said Reggie, moving even closer to Harry.

"He can understand you, perfectly," explained Harry. "Just talk directly to him."

"Oh," replied Hermione, understanding the problem. Turning to Reggie, she said, "I'm so sorry, Reggie. It's a bit confusing, you see. I actually do know that you can understand English, but I still have to have Harry translate whatever you say, so I guess I unconsciously assumed that both sides of the conversation had to go through him."

_"Apology accepted," _replied Reggie. _"Now, I understand how having someone like me as a familiar would be quite beneficial to either of you. What I'd like to know is what's in it for me?"_

"For you?" asked Harry.

"What did he say?" asked Hermione.

"He wants to know what's in it for him," replied Harry.

Hermione was surprised at the question, but realized a moment or so later that it was a perfectly valid point. "Well," she replied, "I guess it would mean that we'd be able to chat without needing Harry as a go-between."

_"I've heard some of your conversations," _countered Reggie. _"A bit on the dry side, for the most part. Harry, on the other hand is usually good for a laugh or two."_

"He said," translated Harry, "that you're boring and I'm fascinating."

"I bet he didn't," retorted Hermione. "You're just using the fact that only you can understand him to strengthen your side."

"Well," replied Harry, pulling back a bit, "he might not have used those exact words, but the general idea is the same. He thinks it would be more fun to talk with me than you."

Hermione gave this some thought. "I'm afraid I'd have to agree with him on that. You both do seem to get along as mates. The thing is, having him as a familiar wouldn't really change your relationship much. You could still chat and have fun together. For me, having Reggie as a familiar would just be a great tactical advantage. It might be very import, someday, that we be able to communicate."

Harry and Reggie both sat silently, thinking. Finally, Reggie said, _"As much as it pains me to say it, she's right. You and I could still converse directly. Then again, we don't speak of it much, and I haven't exactly been helping out, but this war with Voldemort has impacted me quite a bit. Mad-eye was a good friend, and if having a link with Hermione means that I might be able to help participate more effectively, then I feel that I should do it."_

Harry sighed.

"What did he say?" asked Hermione.

"He said," said Harry, "that he agrees with you. I guess I have to agree, as well. Having all three of us able to communicate is a good idea. I'm just being selfish; wanting to keep things like they are with just the two of us."

"I understand," said Hermione. "He's been just _your _pet up until now and..."

_"Oh no you didn't!" _hissed Reggie, loudly. Dropping off the sofa, he slithered indignantly back over to the fireplace.

One hour, five heartfelt apologies, a promise to never use the "P" word again and a personally captured 'fat and juicy' field mouse later...

_'Testing, testing,' _thought Reggie. Hermione had just finished with the Familiarus spell and they were both eager to try it out.

_'I'm getting something,' _replied Hermione. _'It's a bit weak, though. Try again. Keep at it a bit longer, too.'_

_'Testing, testing,' _repeated Reggie. _'Earth to Mongol; come in Flash.'_

_'That's better,' _replied Hermione, grinning at his joke. _'I just have to restrict my natural inclinations toward a fully controlled mind. Are you receiving me okay?'_

_'Roger that,' _replied Reggie. _'You're coming in wall-to-wall. Need another ten-thirty-two?'_

_'I'm fine for now,' _replied Hermione. _'I think we have it. If you don't mind, though, I'd like to send a message or two your way later on. You should do the same so that we can make sure we can pick each other up when it isn't expected.'_

_'Copy that,' _responded Reggie. _'I'll be on the side if you need me, then.'_

_'Thanks,' _replied Hermione. In English, she then said "It's working," to Harry. "I think that Minerva was right and I just needed a smarter familiar."

"I guess that isn't surprising," commented Harry.

"No," replied Hermione, a bit absently as she thought of something. "You know," she said, "this frees up Crookshanks to be your familiar, if you'd like. He might not have worked out for me, but I'm sure that you wouldn't have any trouble at all."

"That's a possibility," he mused, aloud. "He doesn't exactly get around a lot, but..." He paused. Finally realizing exactly _why_ Crookshanks wouldn't have any trouble being his familiar, he exclaimed, "Hey!" as Hermione shuffled into their bedroom, chuckling all the way.

* * *

December 13th, 1997

Around six in the morning, in the dining hall at Ninebanks

Snape returned from his short mission; giving a bag of galleons to Knight for spending money. He wasn't particularly pleased at having to do so, but that wasn't one of the mission objectives; his being pleased, that is.

"There were slightly over two-hundred galleons in petty cash, My Lord," informed Snape as he joined his master in their customary nook. "That should be more than enough to cover the day's expenses." He waited a few seconds for a response before continuing with his breakfast. Noting that his plate had cooled a bit more than desired since he had been given his orders, he slipped his wand out of his sleeve and warmed everything up.

Lord Voldemort had been picking at his own breakfast all the while. It tasted very good, as usual, but he wasn't really paying attention to it. He had other thoughts on his mind and Snape's return prodded his next action.

"Come with me, Severus," commanded the Dark Lord as he rose.

Snape was somewhat in Voldemort's path, so he immediately rose; dropping his fork on top of his eggs in the process, and sidled into the aisle. His boss passed by him and headed towards his suite. Snape turned to follow, but chose to quickly reach back and grab his toast before catching up to the big guy.

Upon entering his rooms, Voldemort wasted no time. "Over the past two days," he explained, "I have given an important problem a great deal of thought, but as of now, I haven't come any closer to solving the riddle. That is why you are here. Sometimes it is useful to bounce some ideas back and forth. You are given permission to speak freely. Point out what I might have missed or even where you suspect I might have made an error."

'Wow,' thought Snape, 'he really is desperate.'

"Here is my summary," began the Dark Lord. "Knight, sitting in the middle of Muggle London, is not only detected, but confronted in under an hour. This follows on the heals of the discovery and capture of Parks during Knight's dinner with Scrimgeour and Potter. Neither men should have been casually spotted by chance. That was not the case, by the way, with Knight's original encounter at the Daily Prophet. There are basically two possibilities that could lead to these results; neither of which are particularly in my favor. Airins touched upon one the other day when he pointed out the possibility that one of my Death Eaters is aiding the boy." He grimaced at the thought, but almost immediately threw up his hands in frustration. "Unfortunately, if it is appropriate to use that word, Knight told no one of his destination, or even that he was leaving. He told me as much when reporting the encounter. I noted no deception in him."

Snape listened intently, but made no comments. His Master had mentioned two possibilities, after all.

"The second possibility," continued Voldemort, "and the most obvious, of course, is that Potter has a detector similar to the ones of my own design. I suspect this to be the case, although the complexity of the device runs counter to that thinking. The new Dark Mark was only established a few weeks ago and it should have taken months to break it, if at all, even with several Death Eaters for examples."

"True enough," agreed Snape. "I recall the difficulty of their making, even when all aspects of the designs were known. With the information at hand, though, it _must_ be that they are detecting the new Dark Mark, somehow." Snape continued thinking deeply.

"Without the exact detection tools," countered Voldemort, "it isn't discernable beyond a few feet."

Snape, hesitantly, despite his permission to speak his mind, asked, "Is it possible that Potter acquired one of ours?" He hoped that he hadn't crossed the line by giving Potter too much credit. He needn't have worried.

"I've check that out personally," replied Voldemort. "Shortly after the fiasco at the Pheather... whatever the name of that restaurant was. I suspected that possibility even then. All four are still in my possession and all four were made by myself. I left marks." By the changing tone of his voice, Snape sensed that his boss' frustration was giving way to bewilderment.

"Still," said Snape, "the most likely answer to the riddle is a detector; even if of their own making. This last episode all but proves it."

"Explain yourself," ordered Voldemort.

"Well," began Snape, carefully, "Knight was in the middle of nowhere, so to speak. Not only was he detected, but Potter's mudblood was the one to confront him. She is still very weak from her injuries, I hear. If she went alone, which I doubt, then it was not only known that Knight was there, but that no one else had accompanied him. They knew he was alone. A pair of cloaked guards would be all that was necessary."

"Yes," agreed Voldemort. "I agree." He resumed his pacing, sensing that they were getting somewhere. "I am encouraged, Snape," he said. "Although a spy can't yet be ruled out, it would seem less likely than the ability to locate my men. Neither situation is ideal, but a spy would be the worst case, by far. We'll let it go, for now. After Knight spends the day with Potter and his minions, there might be more pieces to put in the puzzle."

"Ah," said Snape. "So _that's_ why you're so willing to allow this outing."

"Indeed," replied Voldemort. "Potter might be powerful and his mudblood brilliant, but they are still young, and the young tend to talk too much."


End file.
